Everyone’s a Critic, but Few People Make Good Critique Partners

by Sophie Perinot

You can’t pick your relatives but you CAN pick your critique partners.  And a wise choice will make you a better writer.

The tools in each writer’s kit vary—sometimes wildly (if you don’t believe me, put a pantster and a plotter in the same room).  But whether you write long hand or go straight to your keyboard, whether you do a quick-and-dirty first draft or agonize over every word, there is one tool essential to turning out a novel worth reading and that’s a good critique partner.

Given that critique partners are so essential to authorial success, it is perhaps not surprising that newbie writers snap up the first living breathing body available to them.  That is a mistake, a big mistake.

The selection of a critique partner should NOT be driven by desperation or sheer gratitude.  I mean imagine if people got married that way—if they were just glad to be asked by someone, anyone?  Shudder.  Yet I've seen people acquire critique partners in that manner, and then try to “make it work” when a divorce would be a mercy.

So how do you interview someone for what is basically an unpaid and sometimes thankless job without seeming rude? And how do you and make a reasoned selection?

Let’s start with the most basic qualification: the person under consideration needs to be a writer.  Save your grandma/best friend for the role of beta reader.  Yes, I am sure she reads hundreds of books a year and will offer an honest, unvarnished opinion of your wip (actually I am not sure, but that’s beside the point).  BUT she is not a writer.  Would you hire the bag-boy at your grocery store for legal advice?  When it comes to critiquing your writing you want someone who can write and write well, which leads me to point two . . .

When you meet a fellow writer (at a conference, in a virtual community, through a “critique partner’s wanted” posting) and you start thinking “maybe this one is the one,” be smart—start by offering help before requesting it.  Offer to critique something for the candidate: his first three chapters, her query letter.  Get a sense of whether he/she is not just a writer but a GOOD writer.  Personally, I looked for critique partners who write better than I do.  No matter how nice your critique-partner prospect is, if you don’t respect their work you need to finish critiquing the portion of manuscript you've been given, smile nicely, say how much you've enjoyed it and then walk away.

Assuming your possible partner survives this first hurdle, you will want to refrain from doing a little victory dance until you find out if this person—let’s call him tall-dark-and-talented—can edit.  Or more specifically, can edit in a way that is useful to you in shaping your manuscript.  A surprisingly large number of awesome writers cannot critique the work of others.  Why?  Three problems are common:

• Some people are just too nice.  They might be willing to circle a comma fault, but they aren't willing to go much further.  They desperately want to tell you your book is great (primarily because they desperately want someone to tell them their book is great).  This is useless to you.  If you want to hear your book is great you can go back to grandma.  I am willing to concede for a moment that your first draft IS great, but you want to make it better, right?  That’s why you are seeking a critique partner. So you need someone who is willing to say the tough stuff: your protagonist lacks dimension, your back-story isn't working, the manuscript could start two chapters later without losing anything.  In other words, someone who can see big-picture developmental issues, not just catch misspellings.

• Some writers can only see your work through the lens of their own style.  I call these the “my way or the highway” crew. Such a partner is more than willing to mark-up your manuscript, and every edit they suggest will make your writing more like theirs.  But you don’t want to be them, you want to be a better authentic YOU.  A good critique partner gets your style and holds you to it.  They will identify an awkward sentence without rewriting it in their signature style.  So when you get your first chapter back from tall-dark-and make sure his comments are not just an attempt to turn you into his clone.

• Sometimes there is a basic incompatibility of vision.  This is the would-be-partner whose comments just don’t resonate.  Every partner, even the best, is going to make suggestions that have you thinking “huh?”  These are changes you will ultimately leave on the table—after all it is your book and you can be selective.  But if a majority of tall-dark-and’s comments simply don’t add up for you, than however many his other attractive features, there is no chemistry and he is not your match.

When you find someone who can both write and edit you celebrate!  And you also commit.  I mean if you like it then you better put a ring on it—metaphorically. Be ready to become your new critique partner’s ally, giving your time (sacrificing the occasional a weekend when she has a deadline) and best efforts to review her work.  Like most things in life, you will get out of the critiquing relationship what you put into it.  It is not a coincidence that so many critique partners climb the ladder of writing success together.  They are boosting each other up the whole way.

Sophie P’s has two critique partners of her very own--one of whom has played that role for eight years (yes, the woman is a saint).  Sophie's next novel, Médicis Daughter--set at the intrigue-riven, 16^th century French Valois court--will be out in December of 2015.  But you can ABSOLUTELY pre-order it now.  To find out about Sophie's previous literary endeavors, visit her website, or her FB page.  You can also  follow her on Twitter as @Lit_gal 

Don't Blow Your Voice

by Cat Woods

 

This winter is flat ugly. Despite the snow and cold and stormy weather, the wind has destroyed all that might otherwise be beautiful. Instead of pristine white ditches filled with glittering blankets of snow, the roadside drifts are black with topsoil. The very winds that create our decreased visibility and late school starts continually blow the fields bare, depositing the rich, fertile soil in heaps of muddy slush on the side of the road.

 

Sadly, I've seen this very thing happen in writing.

 

Critique, commentary and even our own Internal Editors can send the winds blowing and our words scattering across the page. Sometimes, those winds take our voices with it like so much topsoil only to deposit them in the metaphorical ditch. The result can be downright ugly.

 

It's easy to take in feedback and try to implement every comment, every question and every concern from any number of people. When this happens, we can blow any voice our writing had.

 

So, how do we keep from doing this?

 

1. Read with an open mind. Simply hearing feedback doesn't obligate you to do anything but consider what was said. Note where you feel the most offended, defensive or uncomfortable. Likely, those are the comments that need the most attention. Often simple comments can take us on different tangents we never dreamed possible, but only if we are willing to hear the idea in the first place.
2. Give yourself time to process any feedback--even your own. Set your writing aside and let life happen. Think about what was said and how you feel about it. Viewing our manuscripts from different perspectives--whether we use the suggestions or not--only strengthens our knowledge and execution of our writing. This is a more deliberate process than the sheer creativity that initially drives our writing. And when we give it time, we're reacting with a cool head which can help us make stronger editing choices.
3. Never, ever try to make everyone happy. Not all feedback is equal or applicable. Writing is not a one-size-fits all endeavor. What works for most stories may not work for yours, so don't feel compelled to conform for conformity's sake. Rather, conform because it is the best thing for this particular story. You are the head chef in the kitchen full of cooks. You ultimately decide which ingredients go into your masterpiece.
4. Make changes based on the big picture comments and concerns and leave the nit picking for a copy edit. In other words, digest the feedback in terms of ideas, not concrete sentences. By only focusing on the details, we can lose the opportunity to really pack a punch. If your Crit Partner says, "I think a bar is an inappropriate place for you MG novel setting," don't simple replace the word "bar" with "baseball field" and call it good. Chances are your entire manuscript is riddled with mature references and ideas that will need to be considered. It's never as easy as find and replace when it comes to editing for content, but when we try, our writing becomes a hodgepodge and we can really blow our voices.

 

Once upon a time, I wrote a novel. I listened to every wind, every gust and every breeze. I killed my voice. This novel sits like a muddy lump in the back of my mind, waiting for the spring thaw when it can melt away, leaving behind the fertile top soil of my manuscript, so my voice can bloom once again.

What tips do you have for not blowing  your voice during the editing process? How do you infuse voice back into a flat story?

Curious minds want to know!

 

Cat Woods is currently editing a middle grade anthology on bullying where she is the wind of critique. She's been thrilled to note that the authors haven't let her comments blow their voices. Her words can be found scattered across the web, most often drifting together in places like her blog and on twitter: @catewoods.

Editors Are Exactly Like Parents, Not Besties

by Cat Woods

Give me an E! Give me a D! Give me an I-T-O-R!

What's that spell?

Help. Yeah, that's right. Help of the most amazing kind.

Last week, Matt Sinclair talked about the partnership between writers and editors. He stated that solid communication was the key to a successful project. As a writer who has recently worked with several editors on three shorts stories and one novel, I'll expound on this idea from the writer's perspective.

Here's the deal about editors: a good editor who shares your vision for a piece can strengthen your story in ways you never dreamed possible. As long as we understand that editors are not our friends.

Rather, editors are exactly like parents.

And just like parents, editors have a job to do. Namely, help us grow up and make something of ourselves. They cannot achieve this by sitting around youtube every night, eating pizza, painting toenails and gossiping about who wore what that day at school. Instead, they provide a set of rules to guide us toward our literary success. They are task masters, not besties.

Editors (like parents):

• Withhold dessert until we've eaten all our veggies. It's all about a healthy balance. Do we use all five senses? Do we have too many or too few characters? Is the front end of our story too action-packed with the back end fizzling out? A best friend would likely sneak us a cookie when our parents weren't looking instead of making us suffer through canned asparagus.
• Make us brush our teeth and shower. Editors force us to be presentable. Do people actually like our characters? Is the MC the strongest person in our novels, or does the fun-loving side-kick garner far more sympathy? Does our MC whine? Is he brute? Are they sensitive and strong and flawed and fun? In short, are they likable enough to carry reader interest through an entire story? Besties don't pay our dental bills. And as long as we don't stink too badly, they'll let us hang.
• Demand that we speak respectfully. Oh yes, because even in writing, our dialogue can be off-putting. Editors will provide an unbiased reaction to our character interactions and demand that we don't abuse the power of language. They'll make sure that what our characters say is believable and pertinent. They'll also help us pinpoint where we might get a bit preachy. This is not something a bestie would do. As you probably remember, best friends can smack talk nearly as well as we can. 
• Dictate that we clean our rooms. Editors will point out our piles of dirty laundry in the middle of the floor and will scavenge for those stray legos under the bed. They want our manuscripts clean and devoid of garbage that detracts from the writing itself: anything from typos to grammar to content and beyond. Not so, the besties. Because they like you and want you to like them, they may be more prone to shoving a toy behind the dresser than making us pick up every last marble off the floor.

"But what about my betas and critique partners?" you may be asking. "They are not parents, nor are they besties. Aren't they as good as editors?"

And that, my friends, is the question I pose to you.

Can beta readers provide the same quality of feedback that professional editors can? Is there a beta-reading threshold that can take a piece "only so far"? If you're a published--or soon to be published--author who has worked with both critique partners and professional editors, can you speak to us on the difference between the two?

Curious minds want to know.

Cat Woods has been editing her heart out this past year. Her short story, Annabelle, was published in SPRING FEVERS in February. Little League, another short, is due out on October 29th in the upcoming anthology THE FALL. When she's not editing, Cat parents her four kids (in the non-friend kind of way) and blogs at Words from the Woods.

Genre Bending

by Mindy McGinnis

There are certain questions that make writers of all stripes both frustrated and frightened at the same time. What is it about your book that's so special? What distinguishes you from the rest of the crowd, either in the slush pile or on the store bookshelf? Is the market for your WIP over?

To my mind all of these questions are related, and boil down to the same word—genre. More specifically—your genre and how you've taken a small corner of it to claim as your own.

I recently had three separate but related online interactions that spawned this post. I'll tackle them each one at a time and draw them back together for the firework-inducing full-circle conclusion. Or at least a steepled-fingers-move from my reader and a thoughtful monosyllabic grunt.

Interaction #1—A Goodreads reviewer commented that Not a Drop to Drink sounds more like a post-apocalyptic Western than a dystopian, which is both astute of her and also very gratifying to me, as that's how I felt about it from the beginning.

Interaction #2—One of my Saturday Slash participants (a query critique on my personal blog, Writer, Writer, Pants on Fire) asked if they should change the genre for their query project from "dystopian" to "post-apocalyptic," as they were afraid that dystopian was "over." My response was that I didn't think it made a difference. Agents and readers know that the terms can (for the most part) be swapped for each other fairly easily. To my thinking it's no more different than calling chick-lit "women's literature." I told the Slash participant to go whichever way they liked, but it didn't matter. A rose by another name, and all that.

Interaction #3—Instead of re-hashing it I'm posting a screen-cap below of a Twitter exchange between myself, my fellow Friday the Thirteeners member Elsie Chapman, my critique partner R.C. Lewis and her fellow Hyperion author Tess Sharpe.

Tess's reaction to the simple re-phrasing of my genre spoke volumes to me. Even though she already felt like DRINK had a new angle for the dystopian genre, the idea of it being more akin to a neo-western than its dystopian brothers and sisters were the equivalent of "magic words" to her.

And this reaction had me re-thinking my answer to the Saturday Slash participant.

She's not the first person to mention to me they think the dystopian ship has quite sailed, left the harbor, and perhaps already sunk. And if this is the case I'm going to cry a lot when next fall comes around, and that would be a very bad thing. I am not fond of crying.

So what if I do start referring to DRINK as a neo-western? Will that appeal to more people? Will it lift the ever-present curse of it's-been-done?

Quite a few people in my Book Pregnant group of debut authors write what's referred to as Women's Literature. And they write it well. If their mss were marketed as Chick-Lit would they have died in their agent's inbox?

And what if my Slash volunteer chose the phrase "post-apocalyptic" to describe her ms instead of "dystopian?" Would the D-word close doors whereas "post-apoc" might leave room for a foot in the door?

I don't have the best answer to these questions, and I'm willing to bet that the answer changes depending on who you ask.

So what's your opinion?

Mindy McGinnis is a YA author and librarian. Her debut neo-western, NOT A DROP TO DRINK, will be available from Katherine Tegen / Harper Collins in Fall 2013. She blogs at Writer, Writer Pants on Fire and contributes to the group blogs Book Pregnant, Friday the Thirteeners and The Lucky 13s. You can also find her on Twitter & Facebook.

Good Thing I Have A Keeper

by Mindy McGinnis

As evidenced on RC's blog, I made a trip to New Mexico this past week to talk to the students at the New Mexico School for the Deaf about reading and writing. The kids were amazing, the campus was beautiful, and I enjoyed Albuquerque.

But I'm not here to talk about that.

Instead, I want to tell you how absolutely awesome it was to meet my crit partner. You might expect me to talk about how relieved we both were to find out that we get along as well in person as we do online (and we did), or how cool it was to be able to pitch the infant WIP aloud and get instant feedback (it was), but I'm not going to. The topic here is how critical RC was to my survival for the past five days.

RC picked me up from the airport upon my arrival (helpful), let me crash on her couch (thank God), and took me through the world of the deaf much like Virgil to my Dante... with the exception that the school didn't resemble hell in any way and it was actually much hotter upon my return to Ohio than it was in New Mexico.

The real adventure for me kicked in on Sunday morning when RC took me to the airport, and my flight out was horribly undeserving of being called a "flight" as it never went into the air. Plenty of others did and I watched them take wing from my precarious stand-by status for a solid 8 hours, at the end of which I texted RC and said, "So, it looks like I need your couch again tonight. And also a ride back to your place. And also can you wake up at 4 AM tomorrow and take me to the airport again?"

To which she emphatically said, "Whatever you need."

I was keeping my nervous mother (who refuses to acknowledge the fact that I'm 33 and fully capable) apprised of the situation. When I told her RC was accommodating me in all capacities she said, "You've gotta be thankful for a friend like that!"

And I am. But I was thankful for RC long before she became a cog in my survival wheel.

As a crit partner, RC hits that fine line of praise and criticism that is crucial to a healthy writing partnership. She tells me when I've done well, but she also calls me out on my shit, including my not so wonderful grasp of the purpose of semicolons. Feedback from RC gets a lot of weight in my book. Any and all of my rewrites based upon her suggestions and tempered with my authorial standpoint have met with praise from my beta readers, and my agent as well. So remember readers, treasure your crit partners that treat you well, and cultivate those relationships.

You never know when you may need a ride to the airport.

Or someone to pack your lunch for you.

Mindy McGinnis is a school librarian and author whose debut Not a Drop to Drink is coming Fall 2013 from Katherine Tegen Books. She's also an aficionado of root beer and really excellent hamburgers. When she's not stuck in airports, you can find her at her blog and on Twitter.

(Un)Healthy Writing 3: Codependency

by Cat Woods

My Dear Daughter + teen drama = great blog fodder.

For the past week, we've been discussing addiction and the difference between healthy behaviors and those not so great for long term success.

DD's newest question, "Can a person be addicted to her boyfriend?" got me thinking and asking a few questions of my own.

Can a writer be addicted to other writers? The psychology-lover in me says no. Humans cannot be addicted to other humans. We can, however, be co-dependent on them.

Co-dependency develops when two individuals form such a strong relationship they forego other healthy alternatives. They feed off each other's fears and insecurities, and often engage in self-destructive behaviors rather than risk severing ties with their significant others (i.e., the only people in the universe who totally understand them).

Teens are notorious for engaging in these all-inclusive relationships.

So are writers.

While some relationships are healthy, others can be devastating. Consider your circle of writing friends. It is very likely that a few individuals lead the way in both expertise and experience. They often become role models or mentors to other members. It is just as likely that your writing group has a handful of known Vivian Venters. These lively individuals rant about the injustices of the publishing business and lend an ear when you need to do the same. And just for filler, every good writing community has a newbie or two waiting in the wings.

At any given point, writers need every kind of writing relationship mentioned above. We need to be led and we need to lead. We also need to rant and rejoice—for ourselves and for others. These key personalities make for a healthy balance.

But what happens when a writer gets sucked down the rabbit hole into a co-dependent relationship with another writer? In short, forward progress will cease.

More importantly, what does a co-dependent relationship look like?

You may be co-dependent on your writing partner if:

1. You seek out certain individuals in private to complain about the injustice of the business—because your comments to other writers often go unanswered.
   
2. You find yourself spending more time complaining than writing.
   
3. Your partner complains more often than he writes.
   
4. You have been through a half-dozen writing partners and find that all of them are too mean/judgmental/stupid to care about your work. They just don't "get" you.
   
5. You seek out critique partners who lavish praise onto your writing, finding a mere typo here and there for you to fix.
   
6. You happily point out typos in your Writing Partner's work, but shy away from telling her you don't understand what you just read.
   
7. Your writing fears are vast and varied and you're sure you will never get published. Ever. Why don't you just quit now and stick to scrubbing toilets? When you state this to your WP, she tells you how stupid agents and editors are and offers no substantial plan to help you succeed.
   
8. When your WP complains of the exact same thing, you know in your heart your WP is right—his writing sucks—but you're afraid to tell him because he's your friend. He listens to you. He knows how mean agents and editors are. He gets that the stars are aligned against you. He is the only one in your corner who truly understands.
   
9. You haven't written anything substantial since you've found your writing "soul-mate", and may even have lost your desire to write.
   
10. You no longer want to get published because you believe in your work, rather, your desire to publish is motivated by the need to prove the agents and editors wrong. Double points if your critique partner encourages this logic.
    
11. Your relationship makes you feel isolated on one hand and cozy and safe on the other.
    

I know the above list sounds a bit cheeky, but I mean it in the most sincere way. Writing is a tough business. Few of us know exactly what the journey will entail before we decide to become writers. We can easily become disenchanted and blame our sour feelings on agents, editors and their constant rejections.

If this is how you feel, even slightly, please carefully consider your writing relationships. Are they healthy? Do you get positive reinforcement along with a dose of reality from them? Do you give the same in return?

How do you maintain healthy writing relationships? How do you deal with unhealthy ones?

Curious minds want to know.

When she's not separating dust bunnies from plot bunnies, Cat Woods can be found coaching speechies, raising children, mediating custody cases or blogging at Words From the Woods.

P.S. If you'd like more (Un)Healthy Writing tips, you can nab posts 1 and 2 on my blog.

Trust Your Betas, They Are Wise

by Mindy McGinnis

So I've got a monster under my bed. I shared a little bit about this monster on my personal blog, but today I want to extrapolate on the situation. The monster in question is a trunked ms. It's like an ex-boyfriend that you know has serious issues, but he's got a great voice so you keep taking his calls.



My goal last week was to give that monster ex-boyfriend an attitude adjustment, make him see his wrongdoings and wrangle him into good shape. In other words, he graduated from under the bed to in the bed. But don't misinterpret that last bit; it's where I do my writing.

This particular ms was suffering from some tense issues. Every now and then my 1st POV narrator wanted to slip into present tense while speaking about the past. I call it The Wonder Years Syndrome. In my head, it worked. But every one of my betas was like, "Dude, you've got a tense issue here." And I was like, "No, it's The Wonder Years Syndrome."

Yet that never seemed to be a sufficient explanation.

So I walked away from Monster Ex-Boyfriend and treated myself to a successful new relationship. But those bad apples are irresistible, and I ended up digging him out and applying that stern talking-to. And you know what? My friends were right. There is something not quite right about him, but I was too close to the situation to see it. I wanted to Wonder-Years-Syndrome explain away his issues, but after some time away they were glaring.

But I love the underdog. When I go to the pound I overlook the lost purebreds and take home a three-legged dog with asthma and leprosy. I applied a liberal dose of self-editing, and the ex is currently in the hands of a particularly ruthless beta, who will definitely let me know if there are any lingering problems.

And maybe this time, I'll listen.

This Writer Is Thankful—And Not Just for Her Book Contract Either

by Sophie Perinot

As Thanksgiving approaches (yeah, it’s the day after tomorrow so if you don’t have a turkey yet you’d better get moving) I’ve been spending a little time pondering what I am grateful for when I wear my writer’s hat.

Some things are pretty obvious. Like my book deal. This time last year I didn’t have my deal, and it represents the realization of a huge dream and a bit of validation (take that all you casual, social acquaintances who smirked when I said I was writing a novel and thought I was just some eccentric nut job) so when my family gives thanks around a table groaning with goodies I will be thankful for my deal. But I am also thankful for a number of things that might surprise you and that, I hope, will help you to view events along your personal writing road with new (slightly more grateful) eyes.

I am thankful that my first novel didn’t sell. Honestly, I am. Mind you I thought it was “shelf-worthy” and so did my agent, and when we had our last “near miss” with an editor I felt like the bottom fell out of my world. But, funny thing, I realize now that while it might make a brilliant “later work” it would have be a very challenging debut to market. Being a debut novelist is über-challenging these days. The number of books coming into the market each year is staggering. The retail outlets for those books are contracting. The time each book spends in stores seems to be getting shorter and shorter. In addition, authors are expected to do a great deal of self-promotion and marketing—something that demands a different skill set than writing a good book, a skill set an author may or may not have. Bad sales figures on a first novel can make it an only novel. So, if you are going to throw the newbie-novelist dice you want those dice loaded in your favor. That means you want your first book to be not just the BEST thing you written but also the MOST marketable. The novel I’ve got scheduled to come out in March is more marketable than my first MS was. I can see that now. I guess publishers just saw that before I did.

I am thankful for every person who said, “This isn’t working,” whether about an idea, a character, a sentence, a paragraph, or a chapter in any of my manuscripts. I am thankful for the critique partners who held my feet to the fire and said, “Really? Come on you can do better than that.” I am even grateful for the time my own mother told me that one of my projects just wasn’t that great. It is A LOT easier for beta readers to pat you on the back and croon “good job.” Really critiquing a manuscript (or a query letter) takes time and energy. It also takes guts. So tough, honest, critique partners and editors who send highly detailed editorial letters are high on my list of things I am thankful for and they should be on yours too (maybe you have a slice of homemade pumpkin pie you’d like to share with them this week?).

I am thankful that I have an agent who has strong opinions about which project I should write next. Lots of writers seem to chafe at the idea that once they are represented their agents might want to “vote” on which projects they pursue or even (*gasp*) veto some of those projects. Why? If you are writing just to pursue your creative passion then by all means write that book about a man who falls in love with his goldfish only to eat it in a fit of pique, told in the first person from the POV of the goldfish. But if you want writing to be your career (hopefully a money making career) then shouldn’t you want your market-savvy, experienced agent to guide you (e.g. “you know books with fish protagonists that run 200k are not particularly marketable”)? I had a project planned (research in the can, all ready to write) before starting the manuscript that became The Sister Queens. I shared that idea with my agent and he, politely, pointed out that it was incredibly and relentlessly depressing—quite possibly too depressing to be marketable. Believe it or not, I hadn’t noticed this (my dear husband had, but I, or so he now claims, completely ignored him when he made the point). Of course a writer’s vote counts too and sometimes we have to go with our gut, but if I am going to put months of my life into writing a new book I’d rather have a candid assessment from my agent up front as to whether or not he thinks he will be able to sell it.

I am thankful for the few (see next paragraph for a discussion of the majority) established authors I’ve met who were unkind, and the few fellow writers I’ve met who, imo, were incredibly unprofessional. Watching writers behave badly is a valuable cautionary tale. For example listening to certain writers scream (or tweet) “buy my book, buy my book, buy my book” has shown me how ineffective and irritating that behavior is (and as writers we know that SHOW is always better than TELL). Writers who were snippy, catty, or hyper-competitive illustrated just how ugly that behavior is, and reminded me that being nice to others doesn’t take any longer than being unpleasant.

Perhaps most of all I am thankful for the dozens and dozens of fellow writers who have overwhelmed me with support, generous advice and random acts of kindness. These are the folks who’ve realized that a rising tide of high-quality reading materials—and, correspondingly, of avid readers—lifts all authorial boats. The people I complained about in the last paragraph will be forgotten tomorrow. But I will always remember the folks at AgentQuery Connect who held my hand and covered my back during the query and submission processes; the established historical fiction authors who sat down with me at writing conferences and corresponded with me on-line offering useful tips on everything from participating in the cover process to marketing and planning for the next book; and the advanced readers who have taken the time to endorse my novel, to put it on their “to review” list, or simply to tell me they enjoyed it.

As you walk the “writers’ path” this November what are you most thankful for? Did any of the things you are now grateful for look like bumps in the road when you saw them first?

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.

Critique Group Case Study: The Critecta

by Mindy McGinnis

Finding the special someone(s) who can complete your writing life is a lot like finding the special someone in your love life—damn hard. Where can you find these excellent people? How do you know when it's a good fit? What should you look for in a critique buddy? And what do you have to offer?

Our little trio met when we serendipitously crossed paths over at AgentQuery Connect, and we quickly discovered that ours was the kind of chemical balance you only find in a room full of professionals wearing white coats. We may all three end up in a room very much like that one day, but that's besides the point. Together, we're going to triple-team the concept of our Critecta—you can see RC's post here, and Caroline's here.

Caroline (Skyval to AQ'ers), Rachel (RC Lewis), and myself form what I like to call our Critecta—a trifecta of critique partners. What makes them the perfect fit for me is that we all write YA but within different genres, which is an important element. We write from where our strengths are, and we also tend to read within our own genres. So when we look at each other's work, we are offering a reader's viewpoint from someone who wouldn't necessarily pick up our book at a bookstore—tough crowd. If we can win each other over, we know we've done something right.

Caroline writes contemporary YA, everything from romance that makes even caustic old me feel a flutter in my tin can of a heart, to gritty issues affecting the real lives of teens today. When I get a crit from Caroline I know that she'll call me out on the relationship aspects—"I need more between these two characters to buy this interaction," or, "Hmm... this dialogue isn't quite conveying what you want here, I don't think." On the flip side, when she LOL's or says, "YES! I knew she liked him!" I know that what I put on the page is conveying what was in my head.

Rachel writes SF, which might seem close to my own area (UrbFan & Dystopian) but to the true genre nerd, it's not. RC's work is more science driven and other-worldly than my own, which means she's an excellent hand at world-building. If I can sell a setting to RC, then I know it's spot on. If she's not feeling it, chances are no one else would either. She's also my DAMMIT MINDY WHEN WILL YOU LEARN TO PROPERLY USE "IT'S AND ITS?" person. Yes, for some reason, I need one of those.

And what do I bring to them? A hatchet, mostly. Yes, the BBC Dialogue Hatchet of Death (it gets renamed periodically) shears down their work with a vengeance. Cutting is one of my talents, and I apply liberally, to myself as well as my partners. I also make sure to let my Critecta—and anyone else I read for—know what's working, what they're doing right, and anything that's clever or amusing. Making someone laugh is the hardest thing to do, I believe, so when someone manages it, I always let them know.

But by far the most important aspect of our relationship, and the one that makes us such good partners, is our honesty. A good critique buddy will tell you when you're rocking, but more importantly tell you when you are not. A compliment circle will gain you nothing but an ego and a manuscript rife with problems. Good crit partners have strengths that balance out your weaknesses, and the ability to point to them without undermining your confidence.

We're no longer limited by geography, and while some people do prefer a "physical" critique group to meet with, there are wonderful online resources where you can perhaps cross paths with that perfect partner. AgentQuery Connect offers a friendly, open forum where you can talk out your fears, discuss the market, and get query reviews. QueryTracker is a free service you can use to track your query rates, and read other users' comments regarding agent response time. Ladies Who Critique is a new service that operates much like Match.com, but for women looking for women who read their stuff. And as always, industry and book blogs are great grounds for meeting like-minded individuals.

Do have your own Critecta? (Or duo, or quartet, or whatever...) How did you find them? What’s your process, and why does it work for you?

Crit Partner 411

by Cat Woods

When writers talk betas and critters, they don’t mean fish and insects—though sometimes it feels as if critiquers just blow bubbles up our kiesters or try to get under our skin like a bad case of scabies.

So why bother? Because all writing needs a fresh set of eyes at various stages for various reasons. Which leads me to my point—betas are great, critters are fabu, but a complete team can make the difference between helping and hindering our writing efforts.

So what makes a good Crit Team? That, my fellow scribes, depends on you. A good Crit Team will motivate, support, lay down their lives for you and (gently) slap you in the face with a good dose of reality. Essentially, they are puzzle pieces who fill in the blank spots of our abilities.

How to Assemble a Crit Team:

DEFINE YOUR WEAKNESSES. Can’t spell to save your life? Got flat characters? Does your writing have more plot holes than a Minnesota tar road after the spring thaw? Description, grammar, dialogue, consistency? Name your downfall(s) and determine your biggest needs in terms of writing feedback.

CAST YOUR NET. Writers' conferences give individuals the opportunity to meet and assess critters face to face. Conferences off limits? Join an established and respected group in your genre (SCBWI, RWA, HNS) and get to know other members who share similar interests. This can be done on or offline. Hop on over to your library and see who else has inquired about a writing group. Newspaper ads can also work, as well as contacting your local arts council. You might be surprised what a little sleuthing can reveal.

Writers in your area fewer than June bugs in January? Join writing communities on the web. AgentQuery Connect is my go to, although I’ve heard that finding like-minded writers on blogs, twitter and facebook is effective as well.

INTERVIEW POTENTIALS. Make darn sure you know who you buddy-up with and what they have to offer. Not every aspiring writer—and potential crit buddy—makes a good critiquer. Some can’t keep to a deadline. Some want more than they plan to give. Some spell hangberger worser than you do. Others may impose their writing styles onto your work and get grumpy when you don’t follow their advice. Still more will let their green-eyed monster out of the box when red-lining your pages. And let’s not forget the back-patter who has more kind—and useless—words than your great grandma or the genre-challenged who just can’t understand why your chapter book MC doesn’t silently murder the bully in the middle of the night.

Other Tidbits You Might Want to Consider

Be up front about your needs and expectations. Discuss how things will work regarding swaps and what you’re looking for from each team member. Give your team a trial run. After the first swap, do you feel compatible? Like you gained anything useful? Like you had anything useful to give in return? If not, this is the perfect time to gracefully walk away and reel in another critter.

You get what you give. Be the kind of writing partner you expect from other Crit Team members. Do not over-extend yourself or partner with other members who have poor no-saying skills. If you want a heart-felt critique, give one first.

Be flexible. Understand that sometimes you may need to find a fill-in for certain projects or aspects of a project. If your Crit Team members do not have a crucial skill you need at a given time, don’t be afraid to reassess your needs and cast your net until you find someone who can.

Will a Critter really lay down their life for you? Tune in on Friday, June 3 to find out. Also, learn why you need a pair of big-girl panties before engaging in a critique swap and experience hands on what you can do with the feedback you receive. Even if it stinks worse than an unclean fish tank and makes you itch more than a head lice infestation.

How do you find crit partners? How do you assess whether you and your writing partners are compatible and the feedback effective? How, when and where do you swap? Spill the beans on what makes your crit team tick, or ask those niggling questions on the logistics.

We’ll all learn together.

To learn how to conduct yourself as part of a team, join Joyce Alton at Yesternight’s Voyage.

Need to gracefully break up with your crit partner? Nab some sample starters at Words from the Woods.