Posted in Big Sur Children's Writing Workshop, Critique Groups, Storystorm, Uncategorized

Writing without a Critique Group: Looking Back

When I published The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide in 2010, I wrote a lot about the process of finding a critique group and a little bit about waiting until you found the right one.

Maybe I should have written more about the waiting.

For various reasons, I was recently without my own critique group for a couple of years. One of those reasons was that I was making the shift to writing picture books, and I was looking for a group focused on that–one that had serious professional goals about finding an agent and getting their books published. One that was committed to digging deep into each other’s work and then digging even deeper into revising our own. I was lucky enough to find that this year, and I can’t even begin to describe how my work has grown in the past six months.

I wrote a book about critique groups–I know the power they have to help you transform your writing. And yet, somewhere between writing that book and starting to look for a new group, I apparently forgot it. I didn’t stop writing, and I didn’t stop revising. I worked closely with a freelance editor who had previously worked in children’s book publishing. I received wonderful comments and suggestions from her, and my stories got better. I got serious about reading picture books–frequently browsing through the new sections at bookstores and making regular stops at the library to pick up a pile. I did Tara Lazar’s Storystorm (and will do it again this coming January).  And it all helped.

Then last year, I went to the Big Sur Children’s Writing Workshop and sat in critique sessions with two groups of picture book writers. And I got a gut-slam reminder of what I had been missing. There is nothing like hearing five other writers read something you’ve written, tell you what they like, and then–of course–tell you what they don’t like (yet). Nothing like scribbling furiously into your notebook and their critiques turn into conversation–a back and forth brainstorming about each other’s suggestions for improving your story. Realizing that you’ve been hiding from some big truths about your manuscripts, facing those truths, and having immediate flashes of ideas for revision.

Nothing.

When I got back from the workshop, I started revising, but I also got serious about looking for a new group. It wasn’t easy. Okay, it was hard. It meant putting myself out there again–physically and emotionally. It meant facing rejection, and it meant restarting my search. Where I had felt cozy and comfortable in my revision space before, now I felt lonely. I had re-woken up to knowing that the revising I was doing on my own wasn’t going to be good enough, and I had to push myself away from the feeling that I was wasting my time to even try. And I had really big goals/high standards for critique partners; while that was right and important for me, it didn’t make it any easier to find a group I wanted to join.

As I said, I was lucky that I found a group. I also, though, worked at it. And kept working at it. And, I think, if I had a key to the Tardis, I’d probably go back to writing the critique group book and talk a little more about that. About the time it may take you to find a group, about the awkwardness and fear you’re going to experience, about how you have to juggle the search with continuing to write. And, most important: that once you find the right group–you won’t have a single regret about taking on those challenges.

Posted in Critique Groups, Guest Blogger

Guest Post (and Giveaway): Lani Longshore of Tri-Valley CWC

When I spoke at the Tri-Valley chapter of the California Writer’s Club, I heard about this great base critique group the club had, one that helped the club’s writers get started with critiquing, and then went even further–to help them form their own, smaller break-out groups. I loved this idea then, and I still do. So when Lani Longshore offered to guest-post about the club and her history with its critique groups, I jumped at the idea.

Read Lani’s bio and post below, and don’t forget to enter a comment. I’m doing another giveaway with this post: one commenter will win a copy of The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide. I’ll draw a name sometime late Sunday and will post the winner on Monday, April 23rd. If your log-in doesn’t link to an email, make sure to leave that email in the comment, so I can find you!

Here’s Lani!

Lani Longshore is a charter member of the California Writers Club Tri-Valley Branch. She and her friend Ann Anastasio created a new literary genre – quilting science fiction – with their novella Death By Chenille (available on Smashwords.com). As well as writing the sequel (When Chenille is Not Enough), she teaches quilting and makes art quilts. Her weekly blog follows her adventures in the sewing room.

The Tri-Valley Writers’ Way to Critique

I am pathetic without a deadline. Writing may be in my blood, but the stories collect like plaque on the arteries unless I have a date circled on the calendar. Years ago I joined a writing circle – a critique group by any other name – but it disbanded when two of the women got full-time jobs and one went back to school.

Eventually, I joined the California Writers Club Tri-Valley Branch. One of the first things the Tri-Valley Branch did was start a critique group. Hector Timourian volunteered to run it. He arranged for us to meet monthly at a Barnes and Noble. The group started with five regulars and a few drop-ins.

Then the group grew. In one year, membership went from five to fifteen. It was becoming unwieldy to discuss so many pages on one night. We posted our work ahead of time, so that the entire meeting could be devoted to commentary rather than reading, but there were still too many people in the group.

As sad as it was to split, we decided that was the only solution. This turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to critiquing at our branch. The first group to spin off was comprised of those of us working on novels.

I joined that first novel group.  We made very few changes to the system that had worked so well in the original group for the first few months. We already had a strong working relationship, so we felt confident we could adapt to changing circumstances. This is exactly what happened, and after two years we are still a productive, committed group.

The original critique group has also adapted. A year after the first spin-off, another novel group was established. The branch recognized the value of training new members to be good critiquers. Now anyone interested in joining a critique group starts with Hector’s. New groups spin off from it when they are ready. Members learn how to give constructive, useful comments under the guidance of experienced critiquers. More important, they learn to accept constructive, useful comments to become better writers.

Posted in Critique Groups, Critiquing

Guest Post: Annette Dashofy on her Online Critique Group

It’s that time again: time for the monthly guest-post on critiquing. Remember, leave a comment on this post, and I’ll enter you to win a copy of my book, The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide.  I met Annette Dashofy when I went to Pittsburgh for the Pennwriters Conference (one of the best conferences I’ve ever been to, btw). We’d talked back and forth on Twitter before, and meeting her in person confirmed everything I thought about her from our online conversations–she’s sharp, funny, and a great person to be around.

Annette Dashofy is secretary of the Mary Roberts Rinehart (Pittsburgh) Chapter of Sisters in Crime and vice president of Pennwriters. She’s a regular contributor to Pennsylvania Magazine. Her short fiction includes “A Murder Runs Through It” from Fish Tales: The Guppy Anthology (2011) and “A Signature in Blood,” a 2007 Derringer Award nominee. She is currently working with an agent on revisions to her mystery novel set in the world of Thoroughbred racing. She blogs at Writing, Etc.  and Working Stiffs. To learn more, check out her website .

And here’s Annette’s excellent post.

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Over the years, I’ve belonged to a number of critique groups, both face-to-face and online. Becky has asked me to share a bit of my experience with my online group.

I started out as just another member. When the owner put out a call for assistance, I became one of three moderators. Now the three of us have taken over as owners. We divide the tasks. I’m known as The Cleaning Lady.

Our group is genre-specific. We’re crime-fiction writers, although we span a wide range from historical to traditional to thriller to paranormal. And anything in between. We keep a maximum of 20 members, and participation is required. Each member must critique three submissions and post one chapter each month. If you want to run more than one chapter a month through the group, you must critique three for each one.

I’d love to say the system runs flawlessly, but I’d be lying. It’s my job to track everyone’s submissions and critiques. If a member stops participating, it’s up to me to nudge them. If they continue to drop the ball, I drop them.

Sometimes I hate my job.

But with only 20 members, we need to keep everyone honest. Besides, I’m not the wicked witch (although I’m sure there’s at least one member who might disagree—you know who you are!). If life has simply gotten in the way, I’m happy to put a member “on hold” for a month or two, reserving their space until they can get back to writing.

There are good and bad points to a critique group of this size. With twenty members, not everyone is going to be on the same level skill-wise, whether you’re talking about writing skill or critiquing skill. We have published authors. We have rank beginners. Not all the stories are to everyone’s tastes, either. But the good part is that members do tend to gravitate toward those they can best work with. No one has to read all the submissions (although there are those over-achievers who try—you know who YOU are, too!) We tend to have “clusters” of members who critique each other’s work.

Each member gets at least three critiques on each of their chapters. Often they’ll get more. So while they may not find one person’s comments particularly helpful, another critique might really ring true to them. Even the very unskilled, beginning critiquer can offer some insight from a reader’s point of view.

Regardless of how helpful a particular critique might be, I think it’s of the utmost importance to be gracious in receiving it. You may disagree with the feedback, but that person took the time to read your stuff and offer suggestions on how they think you might make it stronger. You can take it or leave it, but it’s nice to offer a genuine thank you to the critiquer. After all, that person spent time on your story. Time they could have spent working on their own.

I’ve been a member of other online critique groups as well. Most weren’t as structured as this one. But those didn’t seem as productive either. Having the obligation to post and critique each month keeps our members plodding (and plotting) ahead. I’ve run three and a half manuscripts through this group and my writing has benefited greatly from the feedback I’ve received.

Posted in Critique Groups

Monday Musing: What IS the Magic of a Critique Group

I’m sure I’ve talked about this before, but my mind is pretty much swimming in critique group stuff these days, as I get ready to head out to Pittsburgh to talk about it all at the Pennwriters conference this week. I’ll be talking about how to grow a strong group,  how to develop a truly helpful critique, and how to revise from critique feedback (without losing your mind!). What keeps coming to the surface, though, as I get the talks ready, is–once again–how important I think critique groups are.

Obviously. 🙂

I find myself, over and over, using the word “magic.” The magic of a critique group. That phrase keeps popping up in my workshops, out of my mouth, onto the keyboard.

So today, I thought I’d do a quick post on what I think that magic actually consists of:

The magic of a critique group is:

  • The comfort and trust that lets you be motivated to write more, simply because there are people at the other end waiting to read that more. This is, obviously, the flip side of being in a not-so-good group, where you’re actually hesitant or worried about sending those pages out. Build that trust–you’ll never regret it.
  • The joy of surrounding yourself (in-person or online) with people who get this writing thing, who–like you–live with and for words as many hours of the day that they can.
  • The spark of an idea as it jumps from one brain to another, as it literally bounces around the critique table, gathering momentum and depth and absolute right-itude, until it lands in the writer’s lap as a gift, all wrapped up in shiny paper and bright, curly ribbon.
  • The delight of reading the work of someone you care about and being completely wowed at their talent–that line that makes you laugh out loud, that character that pulls you into story, that scene that has you holding your breath. getting to be part of these authors’ writing world.
  • The explanations and examples, from several angles, that your critique partners give you about a problem in your manuscript. The feedback that lets you, at revision time, erase the worried frown on your face, snap your fingers, say, “Yes!” and start writing the new words. The better, stronger words.
  • The education you get in the writing craft, not just from what you  hear about your own writing, but from what you tell the other writers in your group about their projects. Every time you push yourself to dig deep into someone else’s book, every time you resist the impulse to not address a problem, every time you get your explanation as absolutely clear as possible, you’re learning. How easy is it for us, in our own books, to skate over the stuff that isn’t good enough–out of fear that we don’t know how to fix it. When we commit to a critique group, we commit to not skating over anybody else’s writing–and as we work to help them, we teach ourselves. Oh, yeah.

Those are just a few of the things that I’ve been thinking about and sort of re-realizing all over again this last week. What about you? What’s the magic of your group? What’s the magic you hope to find in a group some day?

Posted in Critique Groups, Critiquing

Friday Five: Goals for your Critique Group…as a Group

I talk a lot about figuring out your personal critiquing goals. If you’re just starting out on your hunt for the right group, I recommend spending a little time thinking about who you are, what kind of a writer you are, and what you want a group to do for you. If you’re in a group that isn’t working quite as well as you want it to, the same kind of self-assessment can help you pinpoint what you’d like to change.

BUT…once you’re in a group, it isn’t all about you. It’s often about how that group works, as a unit. How everybody helps everybody else and, because of that, how strong the group gets.

So…for today’s Friday Five, here a few of the benefits and strengths of a good group.

1. Increased productivity. Groups are the best motivator I know for getting everybody writing and revising.

2. Brainstorming. Yes, you can share ideas back & forth with one other person, but there is a magic that happens when several people are tossing ideas back and forth, and that magic is exponential, not incremental.

3. Commitment. If one or two of you show up at every critique session, that’s okay. But unless everybody puts the group at the same level on their priority list, the group is not going to have the same power. Knowing that everybody thinks this critiquing thing is as important as you do–that’s the foundation for a strong core.

4. Education. The more you critique, the more you learn about the writing craft. The longer you critique with a solid group, the more that group becomes a repository of knowledge and skill. That every single members shares in.

5. Confidence. Yes, we all have to grow our own writing, we all have to push our own limits & find our own path. And, when you first start out with a critique group, the critique process can definitely burst a few of your bubbles. In the long run, though, knowing that you have a group you trust lets you take risks, cross lines, and know they will give you an honest reality check on everything you write. I truly believe my critique partners help me to go further and to find out–always a delight–that I CAN make something work. A strong group is a great help to the backbone, to our sense of ourselves as making progress and getting better.

Posted in Critique Groups, Critiquing

Friday Five Critiquing: Ways to Deliver the “Bad” News

We’ve all been there. We’ve read a submission from a critique partner, and we’ve got a lot to say. A lot that isn’t maybe so great and that is not, we’re pretty sure, going to make the writer feel good. Maybe it’s a new member of the group, and you don’t know how they’ll take the feedback. Or maybe it’s a revision from someone you’ve critiqued with for a while, a revision they’re really excited about, and you think it’s just not that exciting. Yet. You’re looking at the manuscript and you’re looking at your notes, and you’re feeling just that little bit sick to the stomach about writing it up and delivering it to the author.

What do you do?

1. Don’t back off. I really believe that, if you avoid telling a critique partner what isn’t working in their manuscript, you’re doing them a disservice. Even if it’s one they might, at some level, thank you for. Implicit in the agreement to critique together is, I think, a request that we do our best, that we catch problems and let each other know about them. At the far end of the spectrum, if you hide your thoughts, you are setting your critique partner to find out about this when it’s too late–when the comments are coming from an agent, editor, or reader of their self-published book.

2. With number 1 said, this doesn’t mean there aren’t ways to gentle/cushion the news. Of course, you’re going to start and end your critique with something positive, but you can do more. First, try to get your mind out of that bad-news mindset. Remember, you’re trying to protect the writer from that perhaps unnecessary rejection down the line. You are giving them a chance to revise and make this book better. You are helping them to identify weaknesses in their writing, weaknesses they can–with learning & practice–get rid of. Yes, most of these methods are, in a way, mind-games we play with ourselves to justify what we’re going to say, but…and here’s the thing: If you can get yourself into that game, then your more positive feeling is going to make its way into your critique and weave hope into the feedback. If you’re a parent, you do this all the time. You see your kid stepping up to something they may or may not be ready for, and you worry. If you let that worry show, your kid gets it. They see your doubt and your stress, and it infects them. If, on the other hand, you’re skilled at tucking that worry away and you open yourself up to the idea that your kid may have found something right and good for them, they’re going to sense that–your belief and faith in their possibilities. Ditto for your critique partner.

3. Don’t worry about covering every problem in your feedback. If it overwhelms you, think about what it’s going to do to the writer. A critique group is about revision, about–I believe–as many revisions as needed. It’s only Super Writer who can make every change a manuscript needs in one draft. Pick two to four things–big things–that you think the writer needs to tackle, elements of the story they should figure out before moving on to the smaller pieces. Is their hero being active enough? Are they using dialogue as effectively as they could? Are they starting the story at the right spot?  Talk about these problems as clearly and helpfully as you can–explain, give examples in the text, make suggestions for figuring out improvements. Let the rest wait.

4. Remember you’re not alone. (Unless you’re just working with one critique partner, and–honestly–this is one of the strong arguments for actually being in a group.) Odds are, you’re not the only person finding big problems in the submission. Your other critique partners may find, or focus on (see #3) different weaknesses than you do, but it’s highly unlikely that you’re going to walk into the next meeting with your not-so-happy-dance comments while everybody else is  popping champagne corks and handing the writer lists of agents to query.

5. Lastly, and this is a biggie, do not carry the responsibility for this manuscript around on your shoulders. It’s too heavy a weight, and–honestly–it’s not yours to bear. Yes, you care about how the writer feels. Yes, you know you’re going to say some things that will be hard for the writer to hear, that may even hurt them. Yes, that’s hard. BUT…it’s their story. It’s their writing path. It’s part of their journey to learn to face the reality of their projects, their skills–to face that and to recommit to making it all better. As long as you have done your best to be kind and respectful (which includes digging deep and sharing what you unearth), as long as you have thought about the way you are phrasing your critique, you have done your part. At some point, you have to let the writer do theirs.

Hugs and chocolate can also be provided.  🙂

Posted in Critique Groups, Critiquing

The Possibilities of Critiquing

When I talk about the basics of developing a critique, I recommend that–in their critique feedback–readers offer writers an explanation, an example, and a suggestion. An explanation of what’s not working, an example (or two) of that not-working element from the manuscript, and a suggestion for what the author might do differently.

Here’s what a suggestion is not. It’s not an instruction. Not a command. Not a directive set in stone.

Here’s what a suggestion is. It’s a possibility.

I use a lot of possibility-speak when I critique. I might say something like, “What if George misses the shot at the tee and has to take a second swing. That might make the events of the scene seem less easy, less convenient.” Or I might write, “Could the eagle have a broken wing? Be one-legged? Then Mary has to figure out what to do with this wild animal, and she’s immediately got a big problem.”

Much of the time, my ideas come from the story I’m reading—something the writer has seeded themselves, either without realizing it or without having (yet) developed it strongly enough. Sometimes, I think of ideas the writer hasn’t played with, at least not in the text I’m reading. Either way, I think possibilities are an important part of a critique.

Here’s why:

  • Sometimes, a possibility hits the nail on the head. The writer hears your idea, snaps their fingers, gives you a huge hug, and runs home to weave the new thread into their story. Everybody’s happy.
  • Sometimes, a possibility gets close. It’s not quite right, doesn’t mesh with the writer’s own strong view of the character or the scene, but it opens up a door to a new direction, one they hadn’t realized was there. With a little time, a little more thinking, they will figure out the change that works for them.
  • Sometimes, a possibility is pretty off-target. The suggestion you make doesn’t fit at all, from the writer’s point of view; they see no way to work it into their story. BUT…what it might do is clarify the explanation you already gave them, make sense of why the examples you pointed to aren’t working. Just like a picture sometimes is worth a thousand words (just not one I’ve drawn), an example can be the piece of the critique that the writer gets.

Sometimes, a possibility does none of these. And sometimes, yes, there is a writer in a group who completely ignores, forever, every possibility offered by their critique partners. Overall, though, I think it’s worth it to make the attempt, to offer those suggestions as they come to you. You can’t always track a revision change directly back to a specific comment, and–if you hold back–you’re missing the chance to see that magic happen. You’re missing the chance to watch the sharing of a critique group transform a story.

Posted in Critique Groups, Friday Five

Friday Five: Flexible Critique Groups

True story: I’m in a yoga class years ago. I’m trying the poses, feeling the stretch, even though–at no point when they’re supposed to–do my fingers get anywhere near the floor; at many points when I’m supposed to be standing with balance, I’m tipping over & bumping into the wall. There is a woman a few mats away from me who can, pretty much without trying, touch her nose to her knees and twist so that–I swear–she’s all the way around facing the mirror at the front of the room again. Most of the rest of us are fighting back jealous; a few perhaps even plotting revenge.

The teacher gets the sense of what’s going on. And she takes time to explain that, even though we think this woman has it easy, in reality it’s harder for her to learn the poses, because–basically–her body flops over so loosely that she has to work harder to actually be in the pose, hold the pose, etc. And then the teacher–who I really do love–says, “On the other hand, Becky has an easier time/better chance of getting the stretch that the pose should give you.” Or something to that effect. I know my name was said, I know everybody turned to check me out, I know the teacher meant well, and I know that it all added up to the fact that I was the least flexible person in the class.

Well, you know, that wasn’t exactly news. 🙂

Not me.

Of course, there are also some people whom, if you asked, would theorize that I’m not always the most emotionally flexible person either. And I’m okay with that, too.

But…TRANSITION: I believe that being flexible in your critique group is a must. The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide is full of tips for building a group, for holding meetings, for developing critiques, but the thing is–the bottom line is that we need to run a critique group in a way that works for us. We need to run a critique group in a way that helps us put more writing on the page, helps us support each other with strong, deep feedback and as-needed hugs. We need to run a critique group so that every member wants to be there, wants to submit, and feels like–yes–they can revise this mess they’re making.

So, after that very long wind-up, here are five ways you can keep your group flexible.

1. Be flexible about reading submissions of varying length–from a two-page scene to a full manuscript. And if you’re the author with the full manuscript, be flexible about how fast you expect your critique partners to read that big pile!

2. Be flexible about who gets to submit. I know there are groups that assign specific dates to specific group members. If you miss your window, because you didn’t have a chapter ready, you have to wait till your next turn. If you have chapters ready for three meetings in a row, you might not be allowed to submit for all those meetings, because it’s not your time slot. I really believe that when a writer in our group is being productive, we should support them by basically standing with our arms open ready to catch all the pages they can throw at us. Yes, of course, if it’s more than people can really read–if members’ critiquing time starts cutting too much into their writing time, there might need to be a “discussion” about maximum pages, but I’d rather see the auto-pilot response be “Yes, sure,” instead of “No way.”

3. On the flip side of that coin, be flexible about the times when a group member isn’t submitting. I know writers who need to write a first draft without being critiqued, because feedback at that stage can just open the door to their nasty inner editor and, basically, stall out their writing. Sometimes, life just rears its ugly head and gets in the way of a writer’s progress. That’s not a happy time, but it’s also not a time when a critique group should make things harder for that writer. They’re still coming to the meetings; they’re still critiquing other people’s work; they’re still a big part of the group. Support everybody’s different processes.

4. Be flexible about when you critique. I’m a big advocate of submitting pages for critique before a meeting (for in-person groups), rather than reading and critiquing at the meeting. I actually think it’s a very important part of having time to really read deeply & think about a manuscript, to develop a strong, helpful set of feedback. BUT…if the members of your critique group really don’t have time to set up this kind of schedule, to take those extra hours out of the week, do not let this stop you from setting up your group or from going on with one you’re already in. Do your best to spend that concentrated time at the meeting reading carefully and thoughtfully and share your feedback clearly. Sometimes we can’t manage the ideal, so we manage the next best…as well as we can.

5. Be flexible about life’s changes. When I started with my first group, I wasn’t married & I wasn’t even thinking about motherhood. While I was in the group, all that changed. Those first months of mommyhood were not easy ones for me, and my group made it that much easier by totally supporting me in bringing my son with me to the group for a few sessions, until I worked out a babysitting situation I was happy with. It meant so much to me that I didn’t have to step out of the group or miss those sessions that were one of the huge highlights of my month. I talk a lot about commitment to your critique group, but membership is not a black-and-white, ground-in-stone rulebook. If your group members are worth critiquing with, they’re worth accommodating when that new baby comes, when a job schedule changes, when an elderly parent needs attention and assistance.

Yes, there good ways to run a critique group, and there are not-so-good ways. To grow a group that you trust, that makes you feel safe and motivated, that helps you move forward with your writing, we need to be flexible about those various ways.

It’s an important thing, and it’s one that gets results. Results that are more than worth any aches & pains that the extra stretching brings you.

Posted in Critique Groups, Thankful Thursday

Thankful Thursday: When to Say “Thanks” to a Critique Partner

It’s a good time to thank your critique partner when:

  • They point out that your first chapter would be a lot more interesting if you started…there (usually a LOT further in).
  • They show you the place they lost track of which character is saying what.
  • They tell you that they laughed out loud three times when they read your scene. Especially if you actually wanted those moments to be funny.
  • They offer to do a final read-through of the whole manuscript (not the first time) when you are ready to query agents. And they promise to mark only things that make them want to scream, “You can’t send it out with THIS!!!!”
  • They circle the six times you wrote “She looked at…” on the same page.
  • They put a smiley face in the margin of your manuscript.
  • They help you brainstorm a plot problem.
  • They celebrate with you–at the end of your first draft, at the end of each revision, when you send your first query letter, when you get a request for more. And so on. You get the point. Lots of celebrations.
  • They make a throw-away suggestion that sets fire to an entirely new, perfect path for your story.
  • They say, “Of course, send four chapters instead of two.”
  • They tell you, gently, that a character is still….a…little…boring. And then they pat your hand and remind you that you can fix this problem.

Okay, I’ve got a bit of a hidden message here, although probably not too hidden. Yes, these are things you want to thank your critique partners for. They’re also things, of course, that you want them to be able to thank you for! Everybody in a critique group wears both hats–critiquer and writer. And, in a strong group, my list barely touches the surface of things to be thankful for.

So, for today–Terri, Beth, Cyndy, and Jana–Thank you!

Posted in Critique Groups

Guest Post: Constance Lombardo on Growing a Critique Group Over Time

I hear a lot about groups that didn’t make it–where meetings trickled away, or people weren’t submitting, or the group was just the wrong fit for too many members. That’s why, when Constance Lombardo sent me this guest post about her group that DID make it–with all the ups and downs and persistence it took to get there, I was thrilled. Read on to see the work that Constance and her critique partners put into keeping this group alive and, ultimately, a strong, supportive place.

THE SECRET GARDENERS

Four years ago, I moved to Asheville, joined SCBWI and decided to form a critique group. I found another writer/illustrator with the same goal. We scheduled and advertised our first meeting. Asheville is full of artists and writers, so I shouldn’t have been surprised by the amount of people who showed up– ten, I think. A mix of picture book to YA writers and illustrators. Wow, I thought, this is going to be easy!

We worked out some logistics: we’d meet twice a month at our favorite local bookstore, Malaprops, we’d read our work and offer feedback at meetings, leaving the first 20 minutes for chatting (hopefully on book-related subjects!) And we would use the ‘sandwich’ rule – a positive statement about the writing first, then discuss what might need work, close with another positive statement.

Four years later, the last survivor from that first group to our current configuration is me.

People moved away. One of us had twins. Someone else had surgery. Others decided they didn’t have time for the group. Change is part of life, right?

Over the years, we’ve had people show up once, after being told that a commitment was required to share work for feedback, and then never return. (We now have a rule that you must attend at least one meeting before you can share.)

We’ve had people show up only when they wanted to share their own work. (New rule: you must attend at least one of our twice a month meetings regularly to remain in the group.)

We had one woman who left the group, saying we were all mean. (More conversation on keeping things positive.)

We’ve had some intense chatters. (I’ve been guilty of this at times. Reminders about staying on-topic.)

And we’ve had some serious personality clashes. New York personalities (myself and others) vs. Southern personalities. We’re still working on that one.

What have we done best over the years?

About a year ago, when our group hit nine committed writers and illustrators who attend and share regularly, we decided to close the group. Most of us are SCBWI members and it’s a requirement for any new members, when we do have an opening. We wrote down a list of Intentions and Rules, including some previously mentioned. We now post our work (especially longer YA or MG chapters) the week before we meet.

We’ve had local authors (Allan Wolf, Alan Gratz) and a local illustrator (Laura Bryant) speak to us about their journeys. A local editor (Joy Neaves) also spoke to our group. We’ve learned a lot from these meetings.

And we picked a name. That was interesting. As we threw out ideas, I realized that I am attached to my concept of the group and that some of the names were just not acceptable to me. (New rule: any major change had to be ok’d by all members.) We made a list of potential names:

  • Monkeys with Typewriters
  • Make Way for Madeline
  • Wonderlanders
  • The Inksters
  • The Secret Gardeners

We all voted and happily agreed. We are now The Secret Gardeners.

An illustrator from our group (Holly McGee) was pulled from the slush pile to illustrate her first picture book from Kane/Miller, Hush Little Beachcomber by Dianne Moritz. (Hooray!) Author/illustrator Kit Grady has a new book out, A Necklace for Jiggsy (Hooray!) Megan Shepherd’s articles have been in Faces, Calliope and Appleseeds magazines (You go, girl!) And we recently had another published author join us, Karen Miller (Monsters and Water Beasts: Creatures of Fact or Fiction?)

And the rest of us have made great strides in our writing and/or illustrating. We are:

We’ve been published in our Carolinas chapter newsletter, The Pen & Palette, and in the SCBWI Bulletin, cheering each other on all the way. We celebrate each other through our successes and commiserate over our (numerous!) rejection letters. We share knowledge (agent lists) and ask questions (how to write an effective query?) We attend conferences together and hang out in the hotel bar talking late into the night.

We’ve come to know each other, our work, our writing/illustrating styles, our strengths and weaknesses, and our dreams. We’ve come to appreciate each other, to understand what we’re each trying to accomplish, to be encouraging, and to offer the kind of feedback that makes us all work harder to deliver our best.

And we have fun! We went to see Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix. And we’re planning to see HP and the Deathly Hallows together. This year, one of our scheduled meetings fell on my birthday, so I requested that we meet at The Chocolate Lounge (which is as wonderful as it sounds!) We ate chocolate, drank dessert wine, and talked about books. Then I knew, this isn’t just a great critique group, these are my friends.