by Charlee Vale
In September of 2012 I turned in the first draft of the play that would become my master's thesis in to my advisor, and I also gave copies to my two thesis partners so that they could read and have an idea how my part of the project was coming along.
The first words out of my advisor's mouth in that meeting was forbidding my partners to say anything about the play to me. It didn't matter if they loved it, hated it, or had constructive criticism. Not one. Single. Word.
In retrospect, this is the best thing he ever could have done for me. When someone says something about your work—especially in it's infancy—it can creep inside you like a little time bomb, and you'll never feel the same.
Recently I wrote a post called 'More Than Words,' which discusses the innate power that words have. Along the same line, this is a little discussion of that same topic, but in regards to critique.
I wanted to write this post because recently I've noticed a trend on public critique websites which I frequent. That trend is people using cruelty in their critique. People being mean-spirited and rude and disguising it in 'I just want to help! An agent is going to do the same thing!'
Well, no. First of all, the odds of an agent being cruel of rude to you regarding your work is minimal. They want your work to be good. So why would they go out of their way to be mean about it, when the writing can be fixed with practice and experience? They won't. Agents are busy people, they have better things to do.
Secondly, Being rude to someone in a critique is not constructive. It is DEstructive. We writers are putting ourselves out there when we ask for critique. You're baring a little piece of your soul, and because of that cruel words have a tendency to cut us deeper than we'll let on.
Imagine you put your query up for critique, and the first feedback you get is: "I can't believe you started with this. That is SO cliche. I basically stopped reading here, and I bet an agent is going to do the same thing."* —I'm guessing that not only would you shut down from hearing good advice, but also not want to put up anything for critique ever again, and possibly want to stop writing.
Keeping with the example, if someone does start with a cliche, maybe try a different approach. "Hey, I've heard that agents get a lot of these openings. Is there maybe somewhere else you can start your story so you stand out more?" —A response like this not only preserves the writer's dignity, but allows them to approach the solution with an open mind because you're allowing them to come up with it.
I'm not saying that you should sugar coat things, or not tell people what they need to hear, but phrasing can make a world of difference, and could be the difference between a learning moment and a meltdown.
So critique on, and use the golden rule: Don't say anything to anyone you wouldn't want someone to say to you.
*Example Hypothetical
Charlee Vale is a Young Adult writer, agency intern, photographer, and tea lover living in New York City. You can also find her at her website, and on Twitter, and using the golden rule.
Showing posts with label critique. Show all posts
Showing posts with label critique. Show all posts
Monday, November 4, 2013
Friday, August 17, 2012
A Physical Experiment
by R.S. Mellette
Let's play a game. It should take about 10 minutes, and be fun for you and educational for us all. I'll explain why after the game.
Here are the rules:
1. Read the following few words of a work in progress.
"You're in a lot of trouble, young lady."
Adults say the stupidest things sometimes. Of course twelve-year-old Suzy Quinofski was in trouble. She was covered in dirt and dried tears. Her fingers were cracked and bloody from digging in the ground, and she was being questioned in a police interrogation room. The man informing her of the obvious was Detective Mark Danner.
"You don't know the half of it," she said to him. Actually, he didn't know a tenth of it. He didn't know a millionth of it.
"Then why don't you fill me in?"
"Because you couldn't comprehend it if I did."
"Suzy!" Janice Quinofski, a.k.a. Mom, used what Suzy called her "bad dog!" voice, reserved for those rare occasions when Suzy needed disciplining. Obviously, Mom wasn't accustomed to seeing her sweet, straight-A, multiple-scholarship-contender, daughter acting like a street kid. This was a whole new world for both of them.
"What, Mom? It's true." Then to Danner, "No offense. I don't think there's anyone on the planet who could understand it."
"It's not that complicated. I just want to know what happened to Billy Bobble."
"I told you. He disappeared."
"Disappeared to where?" asked Danner.
"If I knew that he wouldn't be 'disappeared,' would he?"
"There was an explosion," said Danner.
"No, there was an endoplasmic eruption of what we think might be Bose-Einstein condensate on an OTC scale."
"OTC?"
When Suzy didn't answer, Danner turned to her mother. "Off the chart."
"Out of all of that what you didn't get was OTC?" asked Suzy.
"Maybe I'm not as dumb as you think."
Suzy nodded her head toward the two-way mirror that filled a wall of the interrogation room. "Maybe you've had too many lawyers complain about abbreviations in your transcripts."
"Call it what you want," said Danner to Suzy ... "Something blew up and it took Billy with it."
"Maybe so," said Suzy, "but not in the way you think."
"How then?"
"If Billy exploded his guts would be all over the school yard. Did you find any bloody remains in Linda Lubinski's hair?"
"Suzy! Billy was your friend."
"Is my friend, Mom. Billy is my friend and I wish they would let me out of here so I could help get him back."
"How would you do that?" asked Danner.
She hung her head. "I don't know."
"Okay, good. That was honest. Keep it up and together we can find Billy." Suzy's silence passed as capitulation.
"Your friends have told us—"
"They aren't my friends."
Danner stopped to acknowledge what she said, then went on. "They told us you and Billy were working on some sort of elaborate magic trick."
"Not a trick. Actual magic."
"Hey, I need that honesty. You're smart enough to know there's no such thing as actual magic."
"Okay, if you want to get all Arthur C. Clarke on me; 'Technology advanced to the point of being indistinguishable from magic' - which for you would probably be a cell phone."
"Suzy!"
"That's all right, Ms. Quinofski. Suzy, you can be as surly and sarcastic as you like, so long as you tell me what happened. How did Billy disappear?"
"It's a long story."
"I get paid by the hour."
"You won't believe me."
"Try me."
"Okay." Suzy glared at him with as cold of a stare as she could muster and told the truth. "Billy Bobble has a magic wand."
###
Done? Good. Now:
2. In the comments section write a sentence or two describing what the characters in the excerpt look like WITHOUT GOING BACK TO RE-READ IT and WITHOUT READING ANYONE ELSE'S DESCRIPTION.
3. When you've done that, read the rest of this blog, then feel free to add another comment at the end and read the other descriptions.
You've had to go through this experiment because I am still bitter about something a high school teacher did to me grade-wise decades ago.
It was my senior year. English Composition. We were told to write a paper describing a person we knew. I'm sure our teacher – whose name escapes me – was just following along in the lesson plan. I don't think she'd been out of college a full year yet. We were supposed to learn about descriptive paragraphs, so the assignment was to describe a person.
I happened to have an afterschool job in an ice cream shop at the time, and a girl I worked with was extremely annoying, so I wrote about her. Thing is, I never wrote about what she looked like, only what she said. The story was nothing but dialogue.
My teacher gave me a B+. I think. I do remember she thought I'd be all excited about the plus. "It's really good," she told me, "but you didn't do the assignment. You didn't describe the character."
"Sure I did," I complained. "Tell me what she looks like."
I kid you not, a police sketch artist could have drawn a picture from her description, and you'd have sworn it was a photo of this girl. I nailed it. I put the image of the character in her mind.
No go. Still a C+. Or B+. Whatever it was, it wasn't an A.
Flash forward years later to someone giving me advice on screenwriting. "You don't want to paint too clear of a physical picture of the character because you don't know what star might read the script. If you say she looks like Pamela Anderson, and the script lands on Meryl Streep's desk, then you've screwed up."
But now I write novels as well as screenplays, and I like using actions and dialogue to make the reader think I've told them what the character looks like, when in fact, I've only given them clues and they've filled in the rest.
OR...
I'm fooling myself and what I think is style is simply laziness. Honestly, I don't know, which is why I created this experiment.
If you wrote a description in the comments – and I hope you have, because this post will be embarrassing without them – go back and re-read the excerpt to see if you can find where you got your ideas from. The writing is from my latest WIP, Billy Bobble Has A Magic Wand. I'm curious if the magic has worked.
R.S. Mellette is an experienced screenwriter, actor, director, and novelist. You can find him at the Dances With Films festival blog, and on Twitter, or read him in the Spring Fevers anthology.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Sifting Through Feedback
by Calista Taylor
Most writers receive feedback from several sources before declaring their manuscript done. Often, one will first have critique partners go through the chapters, meticulously commenting and line editing. Then once the manuscript is has seen several edits based on the information received from those critique partners, it will go to beta readers for yet more comments and final rounds of editing.
The question is, now that you have a mountain of feedback, what do you do with it? All feedback is invaluable, because you're receiving a "reader's" feedback. But does that mean you should make all the changes recommended?
I think, first and foremost, you need to remember that you know your story—and your writing style—best. If changing something doesn't ring true to you, then don't change it. This is a time when you should be listening to that little voice in your head.
Here are a couple of things I like to keep in mind and might help you sift through the feedback you receive, if it's ever been an issue.
The question is, now that you have a mountain of feedback, what do you do with it? All feedback is invaluable, because you're receiving a "reader's" feedback. But does that mean you should make all the changes recommended?
I think, first and foremost, you need to remember that you know your story—and your writing style—best. If changing something doesn't ring true to you, then don't change it. This is a time when you should be listening to that little voice in your head.
Here are a couple of things I like to keep in mind and might help you sift through the feedback you receive, if it's ever been an issue.
- If several critique partners/betas comment on the same thing, it's something to seriously consider—even if you do still feel it's true to your story. I know this contradicts what I said just moments earlier, but if a majority of your readers comment on an issue, then it may be to your advantage to tweak things so it's no longer an issue. Even better if you can resolve the issue and still stay true to your story and style.
- Take into consideration the genre your reviewer writes/reads. I often have critique partners/betas that read/write a different genre, because they'll see things differently and will pick up on issues that may have gotten glossed over otherwise. However, it seems like things that are perfectly acceptable for the genre I write, will come up as "issues" for those that don't normally read that genre. As a result, I do keep in mind what is or isn't acceptable for my genre when sifting through their comments.
- Often, you'll need to find the balance between a technically correct and proper way of writing and your writing style and voice. To me, voice is everything, so if I receive feedback that changes my writing style and voice, those comments are going to be given a lot of thought before any changes are made. The truth is, I'll likely ignore the comments that change my writing style and diminish the voice.
- Finally, remember that it will by your name on that manuscript, and any changes made should feel true to you.
Friday, September 23, 2011
I, Editor
by Robert K. Lewis
“In writing, you must kill all your darlings.”
As I finished up the latest draft of my current novel, I got to thinking about my editing process and how it’s changed and morphed over the years. I first have a confession to make: I’m fascinated by editing. Love it, really. There is this one moment that I’ll always remember as a writer. I was sitting at a table in Caffe Trieste in North Beach, pouring over a printed-out copy of my book, and as I worked, I suddenly realized that I’d turned a corner in my writing process because I now hated first drafts and had fallen in love with the editing of the draft. After all, first drafts are only there to be edited.
So, since it’s a topic near and dear to my heart, I thought I would talk about how I edit, and how I’ve heard other people do their editing.
The first time I go back to edit, I’m looking at the big picture (which is very Sol Stein, btw). What are the big changes that need to happen? Where does the story sag? Where is it strong? What plot choices work? Which do not? I will at this point make a cover sheet for each chapter, listing what characters appear, along with a brief overview of what’s going on. I then lay the ENTIRE book out on the floor of my office. Here’s what it looks like.
Yes. It’s a mess at this point, and it’s ALL on the table as far as I’m concerned. I’m married to NONE of it. I’ll rearrange chapters, take a part from one chapter and move it to where I think it would work better. I’ll toss entire chapters or storylines. By color-coding the characters (Hey, I’m a visual guy, what can I say?), I get a very good idea of when and where they pop up. This is the big work. The heavy lifting.
After I’ve done the next draft, I then add looking at the language and sentences into the mix. Here is where I will probably start at page one and work through to the end. I’m trying at this time to get a sense of the rhythm of the book. I’m still, at this point, staying loose and fluid with it all, ready to go back to the heavy lifting if necessary, or maybe follow up with a weak thread that needs reweaving, or even starting to look at word repetitions that piss me off, etc.
I may do a couple drafts this way, working from the beginning to the end, honing as I go. It’s laborious, yeah, but… this is the way I work. And really, since I love to write, it doesn’t feel nearly as laborious as it sounds. I love the journey, you know? Your mileage will vary, natch.
From here, I then become a miner of sorts, delving further and further down, really focusing in at the sentence level. Here I’m trying to make EVERY sentence sing. Seriously, if you think you can get away with a few bad ones, well… have you ever NOT noticed the turd in the swimming pool? Exactly. That’s how those sentences will stand out, trust me. Every.Sentence.MUST.Sing.
When am I done? Ah, well that’s the question that every writer asks, and none really know the answer to. Me? I just feel it, inside. I just know that it’s time for me to let the book go.
And so, here some tips that I’ve come across over the years that I want share with you. I’m sure that some of them, or maybe all of them, are known to you, but that’s okay. Maybe it’ll just reinforce your own way of doing things. I’d love to hear about how you do your editing!
1. Be flexible. When you’re just starting out at writing, you have a tendency to treat every word as sacred, every plot choice as carved in stone. This is natural. It takes some guts to admit that you were wrong. I have to tell you though, that in that first draft you just completed? It’s a 100% certainty you were wrong, probably in many, many places.
2. As I mentioned earlier, in the early stages, make a cover sheet for each chapter listing the characters and plot movement. Find a color-coding system that works for you. If it’s at all possible, lay the book out on the floor to get “the big picture”. Doing this helped me to see that one character in my latest had entirely dropped out of the book early in the second act, only to reappear late in the third. That led me to re-evaluate the need for that character, and also got me pondering other possibilities for that character.
3. Work from the macro, to the micro. This is Sol Stein’s advice, and it’s certainly good enough for me (see my rec of his book below). Be brave in the early stages. Toss what you love, fix what you hate.
4. When you’ve moved to the sentence level edits, read your book in reverse order, from the last page to the first. The problem with editing is that we KNOW the story, and get carried away with it. This leads to missing key issues and errors. However, reading it in reverse page order will help with fixing bad sentences and grammar. It takes the ego out of the equation.
5. I’ve also found that ping-ponging around the book from chapter to chapter (chapter 3, then go and do chapter 37, etc.) helps you stay out of the book and enables you to better see how a chapter is flowing, how it begins, how it ends, etc. Doing this led me to discover that most of my lead-off sentences were almost identical, and I always ended a chapter with a single line of dialog. This technique is just another way to keep you OUT of the story and focused on plot, characters, and sentences.
6. Finally, and I can’t stress this enough: read your story aloud to yourself. It all sounds great, in our head. This is natural, as these are OUR words. WE created them. However, when you read your book out loud, THEN you get the sentences that are laborious, the ones that will trip you up, cause you to go back and read them again. And hey, if they trip YOU up, and you created them? Then they’ll most definitely trip up someone who bought your book.
If you don’t listen to anything I’ve said here, please at least listen to #6. It’s really a great help. And it’s not like you have to be all Shakespeare and stuff, either. You can say it softly to yourself, at your desk. Sure, your spouse or partner or whatever might think you’re crazy, but you’re a writer, yeah? You’re already crazy!
To end, I want to give you a list of what I feel are some of the best books out there on editing your own work. This is not the end-all of lists, by no means. If you know of a book on editing that rocked your world, let us know in the comments!
Self Editing for Fiction Writers, by Renni Browne and Dave King This has to be at the top of the list. Simply put, the best one out there on the topic.
Line by Line: How to Edit Your Own Writing, by Claire Kehrwald Cook A much more academic feel than Browne and King’s book. This one is more like taking a class in editing your work, and that just ain’t a bad thing.
The Artful Edit, by Susan Bell Chock full of examples and strategic tips. Short, and too the point.
Stein On Writing, by Sol Stein I always find a way to recommend this book, whenever and wherever I can. It deals with the entire writing process, however part VI of this wonderful book deals with revision, and Stein gives you an awesome way to edit your novel, rather than just starting at page one every time you start a new draft. For myself, there’s a part of me that likes starting at page one sometimes, knowing there’s a lot of hard work ahead. But, I’m a masochist that way.
Heck, I’m a writer, right?
“In writing, you must kill all your darlings.”
As I finished up the latest draft of my current novel, I got to thinking about my editing process and how it’s changed and morphed over the years. I first have a confession to make: I’m fascinated by editing. Love it, really. There is this one moment that I’ll always remember as a writer. I was sitting at a table in Caffe Trieste in North Beach, pouring over a printed-out copy of my book, and as I worked, I suddenly realized that I’d turned a corner in my writing process because I now hated first drafts and had fallen in love with the editing of the draft. After all, first drafts are only there to be edited.
So, since it’s a topic near and dear to my heart, I thought I would talk about how I edit, and how I’ve heard other people do their editing.
The first time I go back to edit, I’m looking at the big picture (which is very Sol Stein, btw). What are the big changes that need to happen? Where does the story sag? Where is it strong? What plot choices work? Which do not? I will at this point make a cover sheet for each chapter, listing what characters appear, along with a brief overview of what’s going on. I then lay the ENTIRE book out on the floor of my office. Here’s what it looks like.
Yes. It’s a mess at this point, and it’s ALL on the table as far as I’m concerned. I’m married to NONE of it. I’ll rearrange chapters, take a part from one chapter and move it to where I think it would work better. I’ll toss entire chapters or storylines. By color-coding the characters (Hey, I’m a visual guy, what can I say?), I get a very good idea of when and where they pop up. This is the big work. The heavy lifting.
After I’ve done the next draft, I then add looking at the language and sentences into the mix. Here is where I will probably start at page one and work through to the end. I’m trying at this time to get a sense of the rhythm of the book. I’m still, at this point, staying loose and fluid with it all, ready to go back to the heavy lifting if necessary, or maybe follow up with a weak thread that needs reweaving, or even starting to look at word repetitions that piss me off, etc.
I may do a couple drafts this way, working from the beginning to the end, honing as I go. It’s laborious, yeah, but… this is the way I work. And really, since I love to write, it doesn’t feel nearly as laborious as it sounds. I love the journey, you know? Your mileage will vary, natch.
From here, I then become a miner of sorts, delving further and further down, really focusing in at the sentence level. Here I’m trying to make EVERY sentence sing. Seriously, if you think you can get away with a few bad ones, well… have you ever NOT noticed the turd in the swimming pool? Exactly. That’s how those sentences will stand out, trust me. Every.Sentence.MUST.Sing.
When am I done? Ah, well that’s the question that every writer asks, and none really know the answer to. Me? I just feel it, inside. I just know that it’s time for me to let the book go.
And so, here some tips that I’ve come across over the years that I want share with you. I’m sure that some of them, or maybe all of them, are known to you, but that’s okay. Maybe it’ll just reinforce your own way of doing things. I’d love to hear about how you do your editing!
1. Be flexible. When you’re just starting out at writing, you have a tendency to treat every word as sacred, every plot choice as carved in stone. This is natural. It takes some guts to admit that you were wrong. I have to tell you though, that in that first draft you just completed? It’s a 100% certainty you were wrong, probably in many, many places.
2. As I mentioned earlier, in the early stages, make a cover sheet for each chapter listing the characters and plot movement. Find a color-coding system that works for you. If it’s at all possible, lay the book out on the floor to get “the big picture”. Doing this helped me to see that one character in my latest had entirely dropped out of the book early in the second act, only to reappear late in the third. That led me to re-evaluate the need for that character, and also got me pondering other possibilities for that character.
3. Work from the macro, to the micro. This is Sol Stein’s advice, and it’s certainly good enough for me (see my rec of his book below). Be brave in the early stages. Toss what you love, fix what you hate.
4. When you’ve moved to the sentence level edits, read your book in reverse order, from the last page to the first. The problem with editing is that we KNOW the story, and get carried away with it. This leads to missing key issues and errors. However, reading it in reverse page order will help with fixing bad sentences and grammar. It takes the ego out of the equation.
5. I’ve also found that ping-ponging around the book from chapter to chapter (chapter 3, then go and do chapter 37, etc.) helps you stay out of the book and enables you to better see how a chapter is flowing, how it begins, how it ends, etc. Doing this led me to discover that most of my lead-off sentences were almost identical, and I always ended a chapter with a single line of dialog. This technique is just another way to keep you OUT of the story and focused on plot, characters, and sentences.
6. Finally, and I can’t stress this enough: read your story aloud to yourself. It all sounds great, in our head. This is natural, as these are OUR words. WE created them. However, when you read your book out loud, THEN you get the sentences that are laborious, the ones that will trip you up, cause you to go back and read them again. And hey, if they trip YOU up, and you created them? Then they’ll most definitely trip up someone who bought your book.
If you don’t listen to anything I’ve said here, please at least listen to #6. It’s really a great help. And it’s not like you have to be all Shakespeare and stuff, either. You can say it softly to yourself, at your desk. Sure, your spouse or partner or whatever might think you’re crazy, but you’re a writer, yeah? You’re already crazy!
To end, I want to give you a list of what I feel are some of the best books out there on editing your own work. This is not the end-all of lists, by no means. If you know of a book on editing that rocked your world, let us know in the comments!
Self Editing for Fiction Writers, by Renni Browne and Dave King This has to be at the top of the list. Simply put, the best one out there on the topic.
Line by Line: How to Edit Your Own Writing, by Claire Kehrwald Cook A much more academic feel than Browne and King’s book. This one is more like taking a class in editing your work, and that just ain’t a bad thing.
The Artful Edit, by Susan Bell Chock full of examples and strategic tips. Short, and too the point.
Stein On Writing, by Sol Stein I always find a way to recommend this book, whenever and wherever I can. It deals with the entire writing process, however part VI of this wonderful book deals with revision, and Stein gives you an awesome way to edit your novel, rather than just starting at page one every time you start a new draft. For myself, there’s a part of me that likes starting at page one sometimes, knowing there’s a lot of hard work ahead. But, I’m a masochist that way.
Heck, I’m a writer, right?
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
So, What Did You Think?
By Matt Sinclair
We writers can be a funny bunch. We all want an honest, no-holds-barred critique of our work. "Come on," we say, "I'm an adult. I can handle it." What is it about masochism that's so darned appealing?
But what about the manuscript that makes a reader want to say "This is the most God awful bit of tripe I've ever wasted my time reading! Kill it! Burn it! Do anything to destroy it and the synapses that fired these thoughts through your mind to begin with!"
I'm glad that I've never been on the receiving end of such a diatribe, and I don't know anyone who has been—or at least has admitted it. But we probably have all read works we thought were terrible—and we were right. It's also possible such pieces were written by people we know and respect.
The challenge is offering the asked-for "honest" criticism. Make no mistake, this is a delicate situation. I suspect the vast majority of FTWA readers understand that there's a difference between "honest" and "constructive" critisism, and just because a writer might make the wrong word choice in the type of criticism he asks for, we as early readers should err on the side of being constructive—even when it really is God awful tripe. It's fine to tell writers the writing misses the mark, but it's more helpful to show how far off the mark they are. Did it at least hit the target or did the dart get stuck in the wall a foot and a half away? Was the humor so sophomoric that you wouldn't share it with a high school junior? Show where, where, and where the story derailed.
Being an early reader for a writer is not for the faint of heart. As much fun as it might be to discover an unpolished jewel, it's quite possible what you hold in your hands is a clod of coprolite that needs to be in a pressure cooker for another millennium or so. Indeed, I'd argue it is more important today than it was even a year ago to quell an eager writer's willingness to share the work with everyone. The world of readers is at risk of terrible "books" in the guise of poorly-if-at-all-edited manuscripts with undeveloped characters and unexplored worlds, hackneyed themes, and language that would offend the ears of a Neanderthal. Make no mistake, the emergence of e-publishing is an important turning point in the careers of talented authors whose backlist was lost, forgotten, or unnoticed. But not all authors meet that "talented" level.
(Then again, American Idol reject William Hung released not one but three albums.)
Jokes and snarky remarks aside, being asked to read and critique a colleague's early version is truly an honor, and it's important to respect the person and the work. Writers who have not shared their work with others before are nervous and are looking not only for honesty but validation that their efforts have not been in vain. But if you accept the responsibility and find the work wanting, it is not only appropriate to say so, I'd argue it is imperative. How you do so, however, requires some tact.
So the basics: Is the manuscript riddled with spelling errors? Say so. If you find them pockmarking the manuscript for the first five pages, it's ok to put it aside and tell the person, "I'll read it after you've fixed the spelling mistakes. This isn't close to ready to being sent to an agent."
"Oh, but I'm a terrible speller," says the wannabe writer. That excuse is no more acceptable than a mechanic saying his hands sweat too much to use tools.
Is the grammatical structure more flimsy than a sand castle? Show your friend what needs to be done or where he can find out how to write properly. "But I thought that's what an editor is for," he says. This person has no idea what an editor does and is incapable of learning it yet. Perhaps he will in time. Be careful but firm. Some people will never get it. But these people typically are not readers much less writers.
What about those manuscripts that were readable but required you to sift through random point-of-view shifts and waffling tenses to find a story worth exploring? There's hope for this colleague. He might not be quite ready yet, but if he keeps putting the time in, he might get to the point where the work can be shared with an agent.
In the meantime, share what you know to help this friend understand that there are no guarantees in writing. Finishing a first draft does not mean you have a best-seller on your hands. Gaining representation does not mean your work will find a publisher, and being published does not equal fame much less fortune.
But developing a thick skin and open ears helps dedicated writers make a living doing what they love. If you ask me, that's what it's really all about.
We writers can be a funny bunch. We all want an honest, no-holds-barred critique of our work. "Come on," we say, "I'm an adult. I can handle it." What is it about masochism that's so darned appealing?
But what about the manuscript that makes a reader want to say "This is the most God awful bit of tripe I've ever wasted my time reading! Kill it! Burn it! Do anything to destroy it and the synapses that fired these thoughts through your mind to begin with!"
I'm glad that I've never been on the receiving end of such a diatribe, and I don't know anyone who has been—or at least has admitted it. But we probably have all read works we thought were terrible—and we were right. It's also possible such pieces were written by people we know and respect.
The challenge is offering the asked-for "honest" criticism. Make no mistake, this is a delicate situation. I suspect the vast majority of FTWA readers understand that there's a difference between "honest" and "constructive" critisism, and just because a writer might make the wrong word choice in the type of criticism he asks for, we as early readers should err on the side of being constructive—even when it really is God awful tripe. It's fine to tell writers the writing misses the mark, but it's more helpful to show how far off the mark they are. Did it at least hit the target or did the dart get stuck in the wall a foot and a half away? Was the humor so sophomoric that you wouldn't share it with a high school junior? Show where, where, and where the story derailed.
Being an early reader for a writer is not for the faint of heart. As much fun as it might be to discover an unpolished jewel, it's quite possible what you hold in your hands is a clod of coprolite that needs to be in a pressure cooker for another millennium or so. Indeed, I'd argue it is more important today than it was even a year ago to quell an eager writer's willingness to share the work with everyone. The world of readers is at risk of terrible "books" in the guise of poorly-if-at-all-edited manuscripts with undeveloped characters and unexplored worlds, hackneyed themes, and language that would offend the ears of a Neanderthal. Make no mistake, the emergence of e-publishing is an important turning point in the careers of talented authors whose backlist was lost, forgotten, or unnoticed. But not all authors meet that "talented" level.
(Then again, American Idol reject William Hung released not one but three albums.)
Jokes and snarky remarks aside, being asked to read and critique a colleague's early version is truly an honor, and it's important to respect the person and the work. Writers who have not shared their work with others before are nervous and are looking not only for honesty but validation that their efforts have not been in vain. But if you accept the responsibility and find the work wanting, it is not only appropriate to say so, I'd argue it is imperative. How you do so, however, requires some tact.
So the basics: Is the manuscript riddled with spelling errors? Say so. If you find them pockmarking the manuscript for the first five pages, it's ok to put it aside and tell the person, "I'll read it after you've fixed the spelling mistakes. This isn't close to ready to being sent to an agent."
"Oh, but I'm a terrible speller," says the wannabe writer. That excuse is no more acceptable than a mechanic saying his hands sweat too much to use tools.
Is the grammatical structure more flimsy than a sand castle? Show your friend what needs to be done or where he can find out how to write properly. "But I thought that's what an editor is for," he says. This person has no idea what an editor does and is incapable of learning it yet. Perhaps he will in time. Be careful but firm. Some people will never get it. But these people typically are not readers much less writers.
What about those manuscripts that were readable but required you to sift through random point-of-view shifts and waffling tenses to find a story worth exploring? There's hope for this colleague. He might not be quite ready yet, but if he keeps putting the time in, he might get to the point where the work can be shared with an agent.
In the meantime, share what you know to help this friend understand that there are no guarantees in writing. Finishing a first draft does not mean you have a best-seller on your hands. Gaining representation does not mean your work will find a publisher, and being published does not equal fame much less fortune.
But developing a thick skin and open ears helps dedicated writers make a living doing what they love. If you ask me, that's what it's really all about.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Tough Love and Tough Skin
by R.C. Lewis
Receiving criticism—if it's not in the first paragraph of a writer's job description, it should be. Handling it with professionalism and grace is a must-have skill.
Cat Woods recently discussed the basics of critique partners/groups and several real-life examples of changes made due to critter input. Some feedback resonates right away. (Yes, why didn't I think of that myself?) Some leaves you on the fence. (It could work, but the way I have it might be better, or maybe Door #3 ...) And some is immediately dismissed. (I write for teens and about teens, so while it might be grammatically correct, I'm not using "whom" in that dialogue.)
Those are the rational, I'm-the-writer-so-I-make-decisions-for-my-story reactions.
What about the emotional reactions? How do we react to "mean" critiques and reviews?
I'm not referring to an out-and-out bashing that says you have no business writing and calls into question the quality of your parentage. I'm not talking about reviews that turn out to be written by the guy/gal who stalked you in eighth grade and didn't take it well when you had to shoot him/her down. In fact, the feedback I'm talking about usually isn't "mean" at all.
It's honest. When in a pre-published critique situation, the critiquer usually intends to help. They tell you what works and what doesn't—for them. In a post-published review situation, they're doing what they're supposed to do—give their opinion of the book.
That doesn't mean it won't hurt, although some will deliver their criticism with more "cushioning" than others.
Should we hope for the "extra cushy" kind? Personally, I don't think so. Too much padding, and I might not realize how potentially serious an issue is. Tact is certainly appreciated, but not sugar-coating, at least for me.
Either way, still hurts.
So how do we handle it? Here's some un-cushioned advice, which I direct to myself as well: Suck it up.
When I'm working with my long-term critique partners, we know we're in each others' corner, so we can be blunt with both "Love it!" and "For the love of Neal Shusterman, R.C., what's with the eyebrow-raising?" Dialogue about feedback is useful, because it can help clarify both the writer's intention and the reader's perception.
In other situations, though, particularly if you're feeling hurt or have an urge to get defensive, here's my recommended response, in its entirety:
Thank you for taking the time. You've given me a lot to think about.
If you've already been published and it's a matter of negative reviews, I'll say it again: Suck it up. Moreover, ignore it. Don't respond. Stop looking at your Amazon or Goodreads page(s) if necessary.
And if you don't know why I recommend that so strongly, perhaps you missed the episode earlier this year involving the author of a book about a Mediterranean mariner.
How do you keep your ego in check when receiving criticism? What influence does the writer's possible reaction have when you offer feedback?
Receiving criticism—if it's not in the first paragraph of a writer's job description, it should be. Handling it with professionalism and grace is a must-have skill.
Cat Woods recently discussed the basics of critique partners/groups and several real-life examples of changes made due to critter input. Some feedback resonates right away. (Yes, why didn't I think of that myself?) Some leaves you on the fence. (It could work, but the way I have it might be better, or maybe Door #3 ...) And some is immediately dismissed. (I write for teens and about teens, so while it might be grammatically correct, I'm not using "whom" in that dialogue.)
Those are the rational, I'm-the-writer-so-I-make-decisions-for-my-story reactions.
What about the emotional reactions? How do we react to "mean" critiques and reviews?
I'm not referring to an out-and-out bashing that says you have no business writing and calls into question the quality of your parentage. I'm not talking about reviews that turn out to be written by the guy/gal who stalked you in eighth grade and didn't take it well when you had to shoot him/her down. In fact, the feedback I'm talking about usually isn't "mean" at all.
It's honest. When in a pre-published critique situation, the critiquer usually intends to help. They tell you what works and what doesn't—for them. In a post-published review situation, they're doing what they're supposed to do—give their opinion of the book.
That doesn't mean it won't hurt, although some will deliver their criticism with more "cushioning" than others.
Should we hope for the "extra cushy" kind? Personally, I don't think so. Too much padding, and I might not realize how potentially serious an issue is. Tact is certainly appreciated, but not sugar-coating, at least for me.
Either way, still hurts.
So how do we handle it? Here's some un-cushioned advice, which I direct to myself as well: Suck it up.
When I'm working with my long-term critique partners, we know we're in each others' corner, so we can be blunt with both "Love it!" and "For the love of Neal Shusterman, R.C., what's with the eyebrow-raising?" Dialogue about feedback is useful, because it can help clarify both the writer's intention and the reader's perception.
In other situations, though, particularly if you're feeling hurt or have an urge to get defensive, here's my recommended response, in its entirety:
Thank you for taking the time. You've given me a lot to think about.
If you've already been published and it's a matter of negative reviews, I'll say it again: Suck it up. Moreover, ignore it. Don't respond. Stop looking at your Amazon or Goodreads page(s) if necessary.
And if you don't know why I recommend that so strongly, perhaps you missed the episode earlier this year involving the author of a book about a Mediterranean mariner.
How do you keep your ego in check when receiving criticism? What influence does the writer's possible reaction have when you offer feedback?
Friday, June 3, 2011
Critique Clinic
by Cat Woods
I won't lie to you, sometimes getting feedback from critique partners can stink worse than a riled-up midget skunk. Sometimes it makes us want to fling ourselves to the ground and pummel our fists onto the floor.
Is all feedback good feedback? No...and yes.
No, not all commentary on a piece will resonate with the writer, and not all feedback works with the writing style or the story. However, every single snippet of feedback can, and should, allow writers to see their work from a fresh perspective. Because not every reader will get the same message from our words, we need to pull on our big-girl panties and learn how to gracefully accept and use critique and commentary.
Please enjoy the snippets from seasoned writers and learn how feedback shaped their writing.
DETAILS, DETAILS, DETAILS: A crucial scene in an agented writer's manuscript didn't ring true to a crit partner who works in the juvenile court system. Having his young MC detained overnight in a jail cell would never happen in real life based on the story events. And yet it was imperative that she would be locked up and supervised to make her escape appear magical. Our diligent writer had to tweak the scene to make it believable for all the hoodlums who would know the system and call him out as a liar.
AUDIENCE FEEDBACK: One writer--finishing up her soon-to-be published book—needed group discussion questions. She found a beta reader who is active in the kind of book clubs where she envisions her book being read. This helped her weed out redundant questions, as well as those that typically shut down a book club discussion.
Successful juvenile lit author, Donna Jo Napoli, once stated at an SCBWI conference that she "bribes" kids with a box of chocolate to read her WIPs. They are allowed—nay, encouraged—to quit reading whenever they feel like it. Her only caveat is that they must tell her exactly where they stopped reading. Not why, but where. In this way, she can pinpoint where her writing fails to engage her audience.
CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT: An agented writer told how she used a sounding board of fellow scribes to help her brainstorm motives for her MC. The complaint by critters had been a lack of overall character oomph. The only thing that kept an otherwise delightful MC going was...well, hmmmm...so, the writer talked through her problem and hit upon a motive that resonated within the heart and soul of her MC—an unrealized pregnancy. No longer does she pine for love, but she has a reason to move forward. Her broken heart forced her to make choices she never would have made otherwise. All of which drastically changed the way readers perceived her MC.
UPPING THE ANTE: One MG writer told how crit group commentary changed the payment of the vet bill in his story from Dad's checkbook to the contents of the MC's piggy bank. By creating a scenario where the MC had to gamble with her pennies instead of her dad's paycheck, she felt the pinch. All of a sudden, she had a decision to make and a stake in the outcome. This gave readers something real to connect with—ah, yes, we've all had to weigh our spending habits carefully—and something to root for where the MC was concerned.
SEQUENCING: Have you ever tried to figure out which came first, the chicken or the egg? A chapter book writer described her timeline faux pas. A mad mama who assaulted a grumpy king for calling her family a demeaning name. Yet the king didn't actually shout his expletive until after his toes had been smacked. "Hmmm," said Writer's Agent, "how does this work again?" And so, the scene was rewritten to create a believable timeline.
BOOKSHELF BLUNDER: An amazingly gifted storyteller once tried to sell her crit group a false bill of goods. Within the first few paragraphs it became apparent the manuscript was not a middle grade novel, but rather begged to reside on the shelves in the adult section of the book store. Listen up if more than one reader hints that a manuscript is something "other." Weigh a critter's words carefully, and be prepared to take your writing in an unexpected direction.
MISSED OPPORTUNITIES: Winter-worn tar roads aren't the only things that need filling. Sometimes our manuscripts have more plot holes and missed opportunities than we dream possible. A journalist/aspiring novelist described how his crit group almost unanimously cried out for a key character to have an affair. All the signs were present from the first chapter and yet he was the only one who didn't see the growing attraction and potential hook-up. Whether the affair actually happens or not remains to be seen, but the writer is now aware of the vibes these characters were sending out and has consciously incorporated these feelings into the plot.
There is nothing wrong with honest feedback. It's how we handle the information that counts. Click here to see the actual evolution of a critiqued passage—pre and post feedback. To get a better understanding of how feedback affects writers and what to do with those feelings, stick around for RC's words of wisdom on wearing those big-girl panties (slated for Monday).
What feedback have you received that drastically changed a portion of your manuscript? How has feedback from crit partners helped your writing? How do you know what to accept and what to reject in terms of crit commentary?
And to answer Wednesday's question: will a crit partner lay down his/her life for you? Darn right. When things kick into high gear and agent requests roll in or edits are due to publishers, it’s important to have at least one critter who will literally set aside their real life to read an entire novel on a moment’s notice. Deadlines can be tight in this business and writers need to count on their buddies.
I won't lie to you, sometimes getting feedback from critique partners can stink worse than a riled-up midget skunk. Sometimes it makes us want to fling ourselves to the ground and pummel our fists onto the floor.
Is all feedback good feedback? No...and yes.
No, not all commentary on a piece will resonate with the writer, and not all feedback works with the writing style or the story. However, every single snippet of feedback can, and should, allow writers to see their work from a fresh perspective. Because not every reader will get the same message from our words, we need to pull on our big-girl panties and learn how to gracefully accept and use critique and commentary.
Please enjoy the snippets from seasoned writers and learn how feedback shaped their writing.
DETAILS, DETAILS, DETAILS: A crucial scene in an agented writer's manuscript didn't ring true to a crit partner who works in the juvenile court system. Having his young MC detained overnight in a jail cell would never happen in real life based on the story events. And yet it was imperative that she would be locked up and supervised to make her escape appear magical. Our diligent writer had to tweak the scene to make it believable for all the hoodlums who would know the system and call him out as a liar.
AUDIENCE FEEDBACK: One writer--finishing up her soon-to-be published book—needed group discussion questions. She found a beta reader who is active in the kind of book clubs where she envisions her book being read. This helped her weed out redundant questions, as well as those that typically shut down a book club discussion.
Successful juvenile lit author, Donna Jo Napoli, once stated at an SCBWI conference that she "bribes" kids with a box of chocolate to read her WIPs. They are allowed—nay, encouraged—to quit reading whenever they feel like it. Her only caveat is that they must tell her exactly where they stopped reading. Not why, but where. In this way, she can pinpoint where her writing fails to engage her audience.
CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT: An agented writer told how she used a sounding board of fellow scribes to help her brainstorm motives for her MC. The complaint by critters had been a lack of overall character oomph. The only thing that kept an otherwise delightful MC going was...well, hmmmm...so, the writer talked through her problem and hit upon a motive that resonated within the heart and soul of her MC—an unrealized pregnancy. No longer does she pine for love, but she has a reason to move forward. Her broken heart forced her to make choices she never would have made otherwise. All of which drastically changed the way readers perceived her MC.
UPPING THE ANTE: One MG writer told how crit group commentary changed the payment of the vet bill in his story from Dad's checkbook to the contents of the MC's piggy bank. By creating a scenario where the MC had to gamble with her pennies instead of her dad's paycheck, she felt the pinch. All of a sudden, she had a decision to make and a stake in the outcome. This gave readers something real to connect with—ah, yes, we've all had to weigh our spending habits carefully—and something to root for where the MC was concerned.
SEQUENCING: Have you ever tried to figure out which came first, the chicken or the egg? A chapter book writer described her timeline faux pas. A mad mama who assaulted a grumpy king for calling her family a demeaning name. Yet the king didn't actually shout his expletive until after his toes had been smacked. "Hmmm," said Writer's Agent, "how does this work again?" And so, the scene was rewritten to create a believable timeline.
BOOKSHELF BLUNDER: An amazingly gifted storyteller once tried to sell her crit group a false bill of goods. Within the first few paragraphs it became apparent the manuscript was not a middle grade novel, but rather begged to reside on the shelves in the adult section of the book store. Listen up if more than one reader hints that a manuscript is something "other." Weigh a critter's words carefully, and be prepared to take your writing in an unexpected direction.
MISSED OPPORTUNITIES: Winter-worn tar roads aren't the only things that need filling. Sometimes our manuscripts have more plot holes and missed opportunities than we dream possible. A journalist/aspiring novelist described how his crit group almost unanimously cried out for a key character to have an affair. All the signs were present from the first chapter and yet he was the only one who didn't see the growing attraction and potential hook-up. Whether the affair actually happens or not remains to be seen, but the writer is now aware of the vibes these characters were sending out and has consciously incorporated these feelings into the plot.
There is nothing wrong with honest feedback. It's how we handle the information that counts. Click here to see the actual evolution of a critiqued passage—pre and post feedback. To get a better understanding of how feedback affects writers and what to do with those feelings, stick around for RC's words of wisdom on wearing those big-girl panties (slated for Monday).
What feedback have you received that drastically changed a portion of your manuscript? How has feedback from crit partners helped your writing? How do you know what to accept and what to reject in terms of crit commentary?
And to answer Wednesday's question: will a crit partner lay down his/her life for you? Darn right. When things kick into high gear and agent requests roll in or edits are due to publishers, it’s important to have at least one critter who will literally set aside their real life to read an entire novel on a moment’s notice. Deadlines can be tight in this business and writers need to count on their buddies.
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