Posted in Uncategorized

Critique Comments: Remembering to Give them Time

Yes, I’ve written about receiving a critique. I’ve spoken to groups about receiving a critique. I’ve received critiques. Time and time again. You’d think I would remember, right up at the front of my writing and revising brain, the most important parts of the process.

Oh, if only I were that good.

Here’s the rule: Don’t always assume your initial reaction to a critique comment is going to be your final reaction. Or even just your second and third. So, so often, feedback from one of your critique partners makes you shake your head vehemently (to yourself, of course!) and scream a silent, internal, “No!” They suggest a character or plot change, a major shift in voice, and all you can think is how wrong they are. How absolutely crazy wrong.

Um…

Don’t lock the door on that belief. Don’t drop it into a pile of wet concrete and let everything harden around it. Because, odds are, you’re going to get to a point in revision where you want to take it out again and look at it. Closely.

It happened to me (again!) last week. I’d had a critique session on a new picture book, and one of my wonderful critique partner had talked about getting the action to more fully and accurately bring out the theme of the story. Now, it’s just possible that, in all our years of critiquing together, I may actually have never mentioned my aversion to the word theme. Yes, I know it’s important. Yes, I know stories have them. Yes, I know it’s something I should be at least understanding about my writing, even as I carefully work not to hit the reader over the head with whatever it might be for any particular book.

That doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Anyway, so of course, unbeknownst to my critique partner, my hackles were up at the first sound of the word. Which may have had something to do with my initial (internal!) reaction to her description of what the theme was in the picture book.

Critique Partner: So the theme is …..

Becky: The theme is SO NOT….!!!!

Hopefully, I kept my face blank and/or semi-smiling so she didn’t get the full blast of that response.

Anyway, you can see where this story is going. I sat down over the weekend and did my usual first step of revision: reread the critique comments. When I got to this critique partner’s notes about the theme, I was still shaking my head, but it was a milder shaking–with a bit of an amused and tolerant smile as accompaniment. Hey! You’re going to have these feelings. You’re going to turn into an intolerant, conceited, patronizing jerk when you get feedback, and it’s okay…as long as you do it in private! It’s a defense mechanism, we all have them, and they need to be let out occasionally–off-leash–or they get really cranky.

So I put the comment aside, and I started thinking through the other problems I knew were there, as well as the other more head-nod-provoking suggestions from this critique partner and the others. And pretty soon, I was doing what all good critiquers get their pet authors to do: asking myself questions about the story. Questions like: How can my little hero direct more of the action? Why does that secondary character react differently to him than everyone else does? What is that other guy’s problem, and what is he afraid of?

And pretty soon, despite (or probably because of) that one comment about theme, my brain circled back to it–this story’s theme. With a slightly different take at first, but one that, ultimately and totally connected up with the original definition from my crit partner.

What did I do?

  1. I sighed.
  2. I thunked my head a few times on my desk.
  3. I posted a paean of gratitude (AKA a buried apology) to my critique partner on Facebook.
  4. I took more notes about the new (and better) revision path.

The moral, once again, is sometimes your gut reaction is not the best one to follow for your writing. Yes, trust yourself. Yes, value your own experience with and understanding of your story. But listen to the people who have come from outside your story to read it and help you with it. Whether it’s the newness of an idea, the shock to the system of a direction so totally different from where we thought we were going, or even just an irrational fight-or-flight response to something we’re not sure we can handle…there are lots of reasons we react negatively to critique feedback.

And, believe me, there are lots of reasons to take a second look.

Posted in Critiquing

Working with an Editor: Thoughts from the Other Side

With those changes that come along in life, I’m doing less editing these days and more writing. This week, especially, I was sending out samples for a possible freelance gig, doing revisions on the NF kids’ book, and submitting the draft of a grant application for review.

Which meant that this week was about me receiving a lot of feedback.

Only, outside of the critique-group environment, that “feedback” is actually called something more like “make-these-changes-now-please” notes. The please is because I work with nice people!

There are different types of review comments, most of which you’re probably familiar with. Some of the ones I’ve been seeing are:

  • Do we need this comma? (Yes, I tend to be comma-happy!)
  • This seems awkward. (Okay, I was writing fast!)
  • Can you give me some more information about this? (Sure, let me just put on my research hat.)
  • How about re-wording it like this? (Depending on my mood and the suggestion, this either prompts an “Oh, hey, yeah, that is better!” or a “WTH? Who said you could edit me?” The latter one usually means I need to have some coffee and then take a second look. At which point, I typically end up at least alittle closer to the first response. Or I find a compromise. And then apply the Executive-Decision power of the writer and make a change I can live with.)

Honestly, and happily, this week was also filled with many “nice jobs” and “thank yous.” And doing revision work is such a different mind-set from getting those original words on the page; it feels good to clean things up and get projects finished or at least moved on to the next stage.

But there’s a difference between reviewers for whom, essentially, you work and those critiquers with whom you are working. With employers, you get a little less choice on how to handle the comments. (Sometimes, a lot less choice.) With critiquers, you have the freedom to say, “Well, no, I don’t think so.” In practice, when you’re the author and you’re sifting through the feedback, you can say that as often as you like. Yep. You have the final power.

Of course…the critiquers are your audience. They’re your first readers (and sometimes second, third, fourth…). Which brings us back to that old question, who are you writing for? Yourself? Or the people you want to fall in love with your book. Both, obviously.

But sometimes maybe it’s a good idea to put on the employee hat, just to push yourself a little harder. You can remind yourself that, yes, there are people who can (and should) “edit” your work, who should at least give you their honest, intelligent ideas about how to make it better. And there are plenty of times when you should listen, when it’s important to take yourself off that author pedestal and listen to the readers.

Even if it takes that extra cup of coffee.