Jonathan Evison knows what it’s like to fail. The Bainbridge Island novelist wrote seven unpublished books before his breakthrough at age 40. He literally buried three manuscripts in the ground. Now a New York Times bestselling author of ten novels, Evison brings his hard-won wisdom to BARN’s Handwork Week with a five-day intensive workshop: “The Thing Itself: The Story You Want to Tell.”
When asked to describe his work in BARN’s instructor questionnaire, Evison responded with tongue-in-cheek confidence: “I write great American novels.” His inspiration? “The work itself.”
These brief answers hint at the paradox of Jonathan Evison—a writer who combines working-class grit with literary ambition, self-deprecating humor with fierce dedication to craft.
“It doesn’t feel like work to me, because rather than draining my stores of energy, it begets more energy. The work makes me a more expansive person—a better husband, a better dad, a better friend.”
The Workshop: What to Expect
From April 27 to May 1, 2026, participants will meet mornings at BARN’s Writers’ Studio to explore what Evison calls the essential elements of storytelling. According to the workshop description, you’ll discuss “character, theme, and plot, with an eye toward harmonizing all three elements.” The focus will be on “rising stakes, rising action, reader expectation, reader engagement” and distilling that elusive “Thing Itself”—the story only you can tell.
Each participant will submit a seven-page excerpt from a novel-in-progress or memoir for group workshop throughout the week. Bring a computer or writing materials. The workshop runs 9 AM to noon daily, with afternoons free for BARN’s other Handwork Week activities.
Who Is Jonathan Evison?
Born in San Jose in 1968, Evison moved to Bainbridge Island at age eight after the death of his sister and the crumbling of his parents’ marriage. His third-grade teacher recognized something in the hyperactive, grieving boy. “My third-grade teacher, Mrs. Hanford, God love her, recognized that I liked to write, so she finally started sitting me in a corner and just letting me write,” Evison recalls. “She negated a huge distraction for the rest of the class, and she made a writer out of me.”
Before becoming a novelist, Evison was the teenage frontman of March of Crimes, a Seattle punk band that included future members of Soundgarden and Pearl Jam. That DIY punk ethos—do it yourself, no matter what—would carry him through two decades of rejection.
The Long Road to Publication
After high school, Evison worked every job imaginable: landscaper, bartender, telemarketer, caregiver, radio host. He wrote at 4 AM before work, sacrificing sleep for sentences. “Do you think I wanna be up at that hour? Hell no,” he told an interviewer. “It doesn’t feel like work to me, because rather than draining my stores of energy, it begets more energy. The work makes me a more expansive person—a better husband, a better dad, a better friend.”
Evison reportedly wrote six unpublished novels before his breakthrough, physically burying three of them and burning all his rejection letters. Yet he persisted. As he explains, he writes because he has “no other choice.”
“I’m not somebody who likes to write a draft, then write another draft and gut it. I like the thing to develop organically.
Breaking Through
All About Lulu finally broke the dam in 2008, when Evison was 40. The novel won the Washington State Book Award and launched a remarkable career. His third novel, The Revised Fundamentals of Caregiving, became a Netflix film. Lawn Boy (2018) sparked a national controversy when conservative groups tried banning it from school libraries.
His most recent novel, The Heart of Winter (2025), explores a 70-year marriage through alternating perspectives. Evison says the book was inspired by his mother’s cancer battle and his wish that she’d had a partner beside her: “I wanted to write my mom the love story she deserved”.
The Writing Philosophy
Evison’s approach to writing is organic and intuitive. “I don’t really move on quickly. I’m not somebody who likes to write a draft, then write another draft and gut it. I like the thing to develop organically,” he explains. “Every day when I reenter the narrative landscape, I see it anew, and I see it a little bit better”.
He embraces uncertainty as part of the creative process. Evison often quotes E.L. Doctorow: “Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way” (The Writer).
“I want to get lost in the novel, too,” he says. “The danger…it’s the danger that’s the heartbeat of the story. I gotta throw myself out there…and put myself in the most uncomfortable situations, the ones where my footing feels the least sound”.
Advice for Writers
Evison doesn’t sugarcoat the writing life. “It’s usually not fun. A lot of days it’s work and it’s hard. It’s emotionally draining”. But he’s equally clear about what matters.
“Self-doubt is the enemy,” he tells aspiring writers. “Now, self-hatred, self-loathing? These are good. These are your friends. It’s good to be hard on yourself. But self-doubt? It’s bad. Telling a story is like wielding a chainsaw. You need to be confident when you’re handling it”.
His core advice is simple: “Just do the work of writing. I know that’s a cliche, but that’s where the magic happens”.
Why This Workshop Matters
Evison brings something rare to the workshop table: the perspective of someone who failed repeatedly before succeeding. He understands being broke—”For generations the beleaguered Evison tribe had been all kinds of broke: hopelessly, urgently, even willfully”—and he understands the indignities of working-class life.
This isn’t a workshop led by someone who found easy success. It’s taught by a writer who earned every word through persistence, who knows that “reinvention” is both his central theme and his lived experience.
Registration Details
“The Thing Itself” runs April 27-May 1, 2026, 9 AM-noon daily at BARN’s Writers’ Studio. Cost: $605 for members, $670 for guests. The workshop is part of BARN’s Handwork Week, celebrating American craft alongside the national Handwork 2026 initiative.
For a writer who spent decades learning that the work itself is the only reliable companion, teaching others to find their own “Thing Itself” might be the ultimate act of generosity. After all, Evison knows what it’s like to write in isolation, to doubt, to fail. Now he’s offering what he wished he’d had: a guide who’s been there, who survived, and who still believes the work is worth it.
As he puts it: “Mostly, he lasted.” Sometimes, that’s where it all begins.
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