Have you ever finished a project—like
painting a room—and been so full of pride with what you accomplished that you
showed it off? Then, after you say "What do you think?" the person tells
you all the mistakes? The line along the ceiling is crooked; you didn't scrape
the paint off the window; you should have done another coat there because the
former color bleeds through. There went your pride in your work. Like a balloon
losing air, your pride (and confidence) went pfft. Well, you did ask what they
thought.
The same thing happens when you
ask someone to critique your writing or you submit your work in a contest. Now, I'm
not talking a first draft. It's the best work you've done. And the critiquer
(or judge) tells you all your mistakes. Well, you asked.
After nearly twenty years of
writing and being critiqued, it's never easy. Last week, I got a double whammy.
First, my in-person critiquer told me the first chapter of my new work-in-progress
is crap. To be honest, she put it more politely. She told me what she always
says—cut all this (highlighted), too much backstory or too much explaining. Then,
my on-line critiquer told me to ramp up the emotion in my YA novel. Ramp it up?
I thought it was. Oh, and, cut this (highlighted) too much explaining. Gee, ya
think I have a problem being too wordy? The upshot is by the end of the week I
felt a little bruised and battered. No, make that a lot bruised and battered.
Was I being too sensitive? Probably. More like my ego was stomped on. By friends,
no less. And my confidence went south.
Now, I know better. Theoretically, I know they want me to succeed. Experienced writers repeatedly
tell newbies (I've done it myself) if you want to be published develop a thick
skin. If you can't take well-meaning criticism from a friend (critiquer) who
has your best interests at heart, who wants your story to be better, how are you going to take editorial comments or reviews? Still, it hurts. When told my
work needs more work, I get all defensive and start explaining why those parts
are necessary. At least, that's what I did at the in-person critique. When the
online critique came two days later, I didn't answer right away. I took the time
to think about what she wrote before thanking her and saying I would work on it.
Of course, the last was what I should have done in person, too.
When I was a member of a writing
chapter in Chicago, they held critique night once a month. One of the rules for
the critiquee was to listen, take notes, and not talk unless asked a question.
Good rule. Don't talk. Listen. The people who took time to read the work and
offer advice did so to help make the writing better, stronger. So, it is with
each critique. Usually. There are a couple of caveats to be aware of. If you
really feel a person is being critical just to be mean, ignore them and drop
them as a critique partner. It's worth bearing in mind that everyone writes
their stories differently. You have to be true to your voice. Sometimes a
critiquer wants your story to sound the way s/he would write it. You have to
sort out all the comments and decide what works and what doesn't. The same holds
true for comments from judges in writing contests. Take what works.
While the above sounds like advice
to anyone who lets another read their WIP, writing this post has also been a reminder
to me. Listen, take notes, and keep my mouth shut. Next
time, I promise. Now that several days have passed, I'll get back to those WIPs
and see what happens when I delete the unnecessary parts (or cut and save for
later in the story) and ramp up the emotions of the teens in the YA. I'll see
if the stories read better. In the end, though, I have to keep another caveat
in mind. It is my story.
