I was in the audience at writing panel at a convention. One lady mentioned a writing group she belonged to that was very exclusive and had a waiting list. A gentleman (brilliant, entertaining, energetic, articulate, in the process of becoming famous) mentioned that he was going to be teaching a one-day class on writing fantasy, in a few weeks. I had sold one book but it was a year or two before it was going to be published and I knew I still had a lot to learn, so considering the gentleman's qualifications and because it sounded like any class taught by him would be tremendously enjoyable, I wanted to attend. As soon as the panel announced they would take questions, my hand shot up, and when they acknowledged me I looked at the gentleman and said, "How can we find out more?" The lady somehow assumed I was speaking to her and said, "See me after the panel."
I was too polite to tell her I hadn't been talking to her, and I did want to get up there to the table and get information about the class. So first I went up and spoke with her (keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't get away). And that's how I ended up on the waiting list for a writer's group I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to join. (I did get a chance to talk to the gentleman, find out about his class, which I subsequently attended when the day arrived, and it was just as good as I thought it would be!)
But after I wandered off from the table, another lady came up to me, handed me her card, and said that she and her friends had a writing group that met one Wednesday a month, and would I be interested. She was very nice, we had a brief conversation, and I said that yes I was interested in her writing group.
So I started going to their meetings. They were all writers at the intermediate level: very knowledgable, very enthusiastic and dedicated, but none of them published yet. They were fun, the meetings were lively, and I found their critiques valuable.
After a few months, I received a call from the lady on the panel, saying that a couple of people in her group had moved away and I was at the top of the waiting list. Congratulations! Since her group was made up largely of professional writers I thought, well, I could belong to two writer's groups, and maybe see which one I liked best.
So I went to a meeting of her group. Obviously, since I had just joined, no one was critiquing anything of mine. But I was horrified by the way they were critiquing each other's stories. They were the kind of group that prided themselves on how they ripped into each other's work, tore it to shreds, and left the remains bleeding. They were sarcastic and outright insulting to each other. Tempers flared and at one point things became rather nasty. I sat there thinking, "Why am I here? I miss being with my friends." (This, by the way, was when I realized that the people in the other group were my friends.) I knew that group was not for me, no matter how many professionals were in it. It seemed to me that people were trying to score points and be clever, instead of constructive.
I knew myself well enough to know that in that kind of atmosphere I would soon become as snippy and sarcastic as they were. I knew I would be good at that, as clever and cutting as any of them, but that was not and is not the person I want to be. (Although sometimes she claws her way to the surface.) And would I learn anything of value at their meetings, and whatever I might get out of it, if I did get anything out of it, would it be worth feeling wound-up and angry afterwards? It seemed to me that newer writers, with less confidence in themselves and their writing, could be crushed to a fine powder by a group like that, and possibly give up writing altogether. But you know, after the dust settled, everyone seemed to get along just fine, and no hard feelings. They all seemed to enjoy -- or at least think it worthwhile -- drawing each other's blood, and being scratched to the bone themselves. Not for me. I decided they could elevate someone else from their waiting list.
I went back to the other writer's group, the one where the criticism was honest but constructive. I stayed with them for several years, learned a lot, made wonderful friends. The critiques were always balanced (besides telling someone what they were doing wrong, we made a point of telling them what they were doing right, so they could keep on doing it) and the members were supportive of each other's aspirations and efforts. I think that the hours I spent with them were some of the best times of my life.
The right group can be invaluable. The wrong group (for you) can be a disaster. Some groups, either because they are too soft or too vicious, might be a disaster for anyone.
i'll tweet it as a follow uo in a day or two. 
