Being Honest Sucks

by Mindy McGinnis

Here's the thing about honesty—it makes you take a good hard look at things you'd rather not think about.

I recently started keeping track of my calorie intake, thanks to the smartphone and a handy-dandy app that makes it easy for me. Easy in the sense that it's easy to use, and incredibly difficult in that it tells me exactly what I'm putting in my body. I figured out that I can eat whatever I want ... if I stop eating around 11:00 AM and stick it out 'til the next day.

Which isn't happening.

So, I've been forced to acknowledge that craving processed sugars is not a natural instinct and as a result I've lost six pounds. I run on the treadmill three to four times a week, but that wasn't having much effect until I started being ever-so-slightly more careful about what I was eating.

But I still have those days. Days when co-workers bring in boxes of doughnuts in the morning, days when my mom has just made chocolate chip cookies, days when it's been a long damn week and I just want that apple turnover to wash down the roast beef sandwich.

And you know what? I can lie all I want. Nobody makes me be honest with the calorie counter. Nobody insists that I can't pad my numbers when I input the speed I was going on the treadmill. I'm the only person keeping myself honest, so when I went a full 1,000 calories over my daily limit on Easter Sunday, I punched those numbers in. 

Because I did it, and I needed to own that.

The same is true about writing. Nobody is making you do a second-pass edit, or a third. Or hell, even a fourth and fifth. Nobody forces you to slice through the dialogue tags and learn how to properly us a semi-colon. You are your own boss when it comes to writing and you have to be honest with yourself or you will never, ever improve as a writer. Looking at your first draft and claiming it's a work of art is the same thing as eating a whole pumpkin pie and telling the app that you had one slice.

You're only hurting yourself. So take that hard look and slice the fat off that ms.

Mindy McGinnis is a school librarian and author whose debut Not a Drop to Drink is coming Fall 2013 from Katherine Tegen Books. She also wields a mean editing hatchet. When she's not avoiding writing her own bio, you can find her at her blog and on Twitter.

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.

• 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.

 How do you deal with the feedback you receive?

Letting Go to Help Our Book-Babies Grow

by Sophie Perinot

Our books are our babies. They’ve kept us up nights, and acted badly in front of company (like those agents we queried too early), but we love them to death and we are very, very possessive of them. And, like most parents, we have high hopes for them. We dream that someday they will leave our laptop, pass through the wheels of publishing, and grace a shelf (wooden, virtual or both) somewhere.

Sometimes the “possessive” author part of us and the part that wants what’s best for our books are in direct conflict. What do I mean? Have you heard of the “helicopter parent?” I would argue the “helicopter author” also exists—she’s in all of us (guys, you can read “he’s” if it makes you feel better) and if we don’t keep her under control our book will suffer.

Repeat after me—“I am a wordsmith, I write, I write really well. But it takes a lot more than writing to make a book a success—it takes a village (it’s okay, you can steal that phrase from Hillary Clinton, everyone else has). Once I have a publisher I will let the professionals who work there do their jobs.”

That’s precisely what I told myself when I signed the contract for my debut novel (The Sister Queens). Despite being type-A, I was going to make a conscious effort not to micromanage every step on the publication trail, and not to freak out when I discovered that I didn’t have the political capital to do so anyway. So far, I am pretty proud of myself, and I am going to share the secrets to my tongue-biting success.

1) I keep my eye on the BIG picture—book sales. I want to sell books. My publisher wants to sell books. We both want to sell books to people who are not ME (and not my friends and family for that matter). So what I like—in terms of a cover, or a title or blog-ad copy, etc.—runs a distant second to what a majority of book-buying, cash-carrying potential readers will like.

And the truth is, I am not in a position to predict what will catch the eye of the average book buyer. I am not trained to do that (nor have I conducted studies or otherwise made it my business to keep my fingers on the pulse of such things). Which leads to my next point.

2) I remind myself as often as necessary, that years of experience and professional training DO count for something. Publishing is a competitive industry. The folks my publisher hired didn’t just walk off the street and say “this looks better than working at McDonalds.” They are professionals. The marketing and art department folks are trained to know what gets a book picked up off a “new releases” table. They have been designing covers and brainstorming titles for years. With this in mind, I decided, even as I was offering my own cover ideas (as my editor asked me to) I would stop well short of trying to “direct the brush” of the cover artists, and I would accept that they might know best.

Similarly, my editor has been polishing manuscripts since well before I thought of writing them. So, when I received editorial suggestions from my editor, instead of growling “my baby is perfect as I wrote it,” I consciously adopted a listening frame of mind, and seriously considered every suggestion. My editor gave me the gift of “outside eyes” and not just any old eyes, veteran eyes.

Was ceding some control over a novel I’ve lived with and loved easy—not all the time. Did I take every suggestion my editor made—no (ultimately it’s my name on the cover). But neither did I assume I knew best (or if I did assume that for some, giddy, amount of time—I made sure not to email my editor until the feeling passed).

Bottom line: I wanted a deal with a major publisher precisely so that I could tap into the resources and experience of “the best.” Disregarding the type of accumulated expertise a publisher has to offer is just stupid and stubborn. It is like going to the hospital and insisting on doing your own appendectomy.

My novel has now moved on to the production department. Just recently I saw sample pages. Am I happy with the results of my “campaign of collaboration?” Yes. My novel is still my baby, but she has my editor’s eyes. She looks spiffy in the cover designer’s custom creation. She’s all grown up and ready to hit the shelves in March 2012. In case your wondering, I’ll be the woman in Barnes & Noble snapping pictures of her on display like she’s a kindergartner getting on the school bus for the first time. “Say Cheese.”

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?

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.