It hasn’t happened to me yet, but I know that I’ll get ragged on for telling people the truth, as I see it. Writers are sensitive beings. I say some pretty harsh things. Like that you’ve got to write a million bad words before you can start writing seriously. Or that getting published is easy, if you’re good. Some of these things are not fun or easy to hear. I’m sorry for that, but I’m not sorry I say them. Why? Because they’re true.
Writing is a difficult, solitary, extremely personal thing. People spend years of their lives pouring their souls and creativity into a project. I’m acutely aware of that fact every time I sit down to read slush. Not only am I rejecting a particular manuscript, I could be rejecting years of a person’s life. It’s a tremendous responsibility and an amazing act of trust. I don’t take it lightly, even if I do make jokes about bad queries or the slush sometimes to keep things lively on the blog. Many of my friends are writers. I make a living by working with writers. I write myself. I have the highest respect and reverence for both writer and the written word. And that’s exactly why I dish out the truth, even if it sometimes sounds harsh or callous.
The biggest thing that stands between a writer and their own success is their ego. So many critique groups flourish on the idea of positive reinforcement. Unpublished writers sit around complimenting each other for hours and tiptoe around the problems. Everyone feels good but nobody learns, nobody grows, nobody goes through that horrible revision that makes them want to eat a gallon of ice cream every five minutes. And nobody gets published.
It’s very difficult to divorce yourself from your writing, since writing is so deeply personal. However, writing is personal, yes, but the business of publishing isn’t. Divorcing the two in your mind is the only way to grow and learn anything. Feel free to have that “I’m a genius and nobody else understands me!” moment. But don’t get stuck there. The fact of the matter is, there are many aspiring writers out there who are constantly honing their craft. Don’t get behind just because you’re afraid of a little criticism. (Don’t follow all criticism and change everything about your work for other people, of course, but that’s for another post…)
Here are the facts, as I see them: Not everyone who wants to will get published. A lot of people’s writing is mediocre and will most likely stay that way because nobody has ever told them it’s mediocre. Some critique groups are more harmful than helpful because everyone is afraid to actually, you know, critique. Not every book deserves to be published… in fact, many writers practice with two, three, five, ten manuscripts before they ever start to see a positive response from agents or editors.
It’s tough going. Really tough. It’s in your best interest to develop a thick skin, learn how to take criticism and rejection, separate yourself from what you’ve put on a page, learn everything you can about the industry, get realistic, and keep writing every day. The one-in-a-million publication stories are the ones you hear because they’re glamorous. Most people get published through the tears, snot, spilled coffee, midnight breakdowns and rare moments of joy that comprise a long time spent chasing a dream. It’s not terribly sexy, nor is it quick. But that’s how people make it and that’s the truth.
You come to this blog to learn things from the perspective of someone who sees thousands of queries, reads thousands of manuscripts and meets thousands of writers. Unlike well-meaning critique partners or clueless friends, it’s not in my best interest to sugarcoat. But I will tell you that books sell every day and that dreams do come true. When they do, though, it’s no accident or luck on the part of the writer, agent or editor, it’s hard work and determination and the hard-earned reward at the end of a long road. Unless you’re Stephenie Meyer, as this funny op-ed from agent Stephen Barbara recently pointed out. But that origin story is taken, so it’s time to find your own.
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Tags: Despair
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THANK YOU!!!
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Thanks so much for the advice! In your opinion, why do you think Stephenie Meyer had such a big break, especially since it seems she had no clue the steps to get published and her initial manuscript would make most agents send her a rejection letter as soon as they can. What about Meyer made her break out and sell out even the most incredible authors on the market?
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Those Meyer-esque success stories annoy me, not so much because I expect that to be my experience, but because non-writer friends and acquaintances do.
Every week I am asked if my book is going to be published yet. They want to know if it will be a movie. The book I finished two months ago.
I also think writers need to stop circulating the “Some Huge Writer was reject 6 thousand times before becoming a trazillionaire” because while a successful writer will undoubtedly experienced plenty of rejection, lots of rejection is not a sign that you are destined to be famous.
Mainly, people need to recirculate what their college comp teachers told them (if they had good ones): “writing is rewriting…and rewriting and rewriting.”
Anyway, so says this college comp teacher.
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Personally, I always wonder how anyone ever expects to get any better when they are so hurt by constructive criticism, not only in writing, but in all aspects of life.
When I send off my chapters one by one to my family and writing partner, if they DON’T have anything bad to say, I worry. I beg them. ‘Please! Tell my something bad! Tell me to change something!” When they don’t, I worry that they are not being honest, and then what’s the point of the critique at all? I know I’m not that perfect.
I thank-you for telling the honest truth, regardless if it falls on the deaf ears of most writers. There will always be at least one person who is willing to let it marinate and use that advice to improve their work, and then it’s worth it’s weight in gold. -
Thick skin is a MUST!
Boy, I learned that the first crit group I ever joined. . . Gotta be able to take some honest feedback for sure. Otherwise, you’ll never grow as a writer.Great post!
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Stephen’s op-ed piece was great. My crit groups favor the ‘tough love’ approach which works really well for me. I believe in direct, honest feedback and want the same from others — it’s the only way your book will get better. Family members serve the role of telling you how great your novel is — the job of the crit group is to push you to in directions you’ve never gone before. Happy Friday!
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This is one of the reasons I like an online forum such as this. I find that people are much more forthcoming with good, honest, constructive criticism than when I share writing with family and friends. Anonymity helps!
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Katie — She isn’t an amazing AUTHOR, I’d say. She just had an idea that was fraught with tension… tension that she could keep going for thousands and thousands of pages. Even if you don’t like the writing or the characters, you can’t possibly deny that every page has awkwardness, tension, on it, that keeps a reader reading to find out what happens next. It’s a Romeo and Juliet retelling that hit the market just as people were getting into paranormal. Her house, Little, Brown, is also very good at marketing. Things coming together on this scale is rare, though.
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Love the unromantic reality of writing and publishing. Too often, people assume that completing a book is enough and instant fame follows. The Average Joe (including many aspiring writers) has no clue what it takes to make it from idea to book shelf.
I would love a brutal critique…it’s on next year’s Christmas list.
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A thick skin is certainly a must, still hard to grow one for anyone in the arts. No matter how many years in the business, published or not, one rejection can knock a bit of the wind out of you and allow in glimmers of self doubt. True, it’s never as devistating after a few books but it always will sting a little.
The real trick is to grow a thick skin that can still be penitrated by constructive critic and to be able to tell the difference. Funny how some of the most untalented have the most confidence and the thickest of skins (I’ve been watching too much American Idol perhaps) -
I’m married to a technical editor who takes the words of engineers and scientists and makes them easy for normal people to read and understand. He calls it “non-technical editing”. For many years he was my only spell check and grammar check. He pulls no punches when he corrects my writing errors. The skin I developed rivals a rhinoceros’ hide. He does not understand the unique content of writing for children but agrees that the ‘write/right stuff’ doesn’t change much. Now I find it slightly suspicious and patronizing if I don’t get some kind of criticism. Nobody’s perfect. My editor husband’s mantra is “everyone needs an editor, even the editor”. I’m glad he doesn’t edit my texts/email/comments etc. BTW twitter drives him nuts.
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I am in the midst of a brutal critique right now, if you want to call it that. I prefer to think of it as valuable input that can make my story better. Truth be told, even the best input may not be right for you or your story. It’s important to maintain your own voice but as far as improving craft, I have found the critiques that take my writing to task to be more valuable than a pat on the back.
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Well said. I received a critique from someone yesterday that broke my heart. The essential bits meant that the manuscript needed a complete overhaul. She liked my *writing* but my story had major issues. The reason it broke my heart? Not because she said it, but because I looked at the MS and realized she was right. And the worst part about it was that because I didn’t see those issues before (and it had been through several critiques), I’ve already queried a lot of agents about it. So it kills me that I may have cut off my own foot in a rush to get the story out there.
On a high note, the same person had read part of an earlier draft about eight months ago and commented on how far I’d come in that time.
So the good made it easier to take the bad.
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I think you’re right. Crit groups are tricky beasts. They can help you or hurt you. A LOT.
I thank my lucky stars for DFW Writers’ workshop. We have lots of published and agented writers as mentors and the group is pretty harsh. Like…melt your face off harsh. They soooo will tell you if your POV/one dimensional characters/drivelly premise/Tom Swift dialogue/repulsive voice stinks like two month old cabbage.
And their criticism makes a lot of our members better writers.
More than once, my mentor has said there are two kinds of people who fail to take critique wisely: People who listen to nothing and people who listen to everything.
If someone offers a crit. Listen. Really mull it over and take good advice to where ever you can find it.
If an agent gives me advice, you better believe I’ll experiment with changes.
Thanks, Mary!
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Mary, you couldn’t be harsh if you tried! You’re just honest, and in the nicest possible way. And without honesty, how would a writer ever know s/he still had work to do? I love my critique group because they’re honest but polite about it. They’ll tell me something isn’t working but they won’t make me feel like I’m a hopeless case by doing so!
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Thanks for posting this, Mary and the link to Stephen Barbara’s piece.
The story I heard about La Meyer was that the editor that received the MS hated fantasy and never read it. They only read this one because of the agent it came from and were blown away. My source reckoned that had they been an avid fantasy reader they would have spotted all the bits that are so reminiscent of other books and rejected it, as not very original.
There’s probably a moral there but I’ve struggled to work it out ever since I heard the story!
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This pairs nicely (for me) with Alex Bracken’s post yesterday about trends (http://www.alexandrabracken.com/?p=282) — because she began by admitting that she almost didn’t write it for fear that it would discourage some aspiring writers. Thing is, if we can’t write through our fears (that it might not be good enough, that it might not be well-received, that our passion for writing about fairies is badly timed, that we should have been plumbers) then we’re not going to get a whole lot of writing done. Ever.
I wish my critique group were meaner. Not like — your momma wears open-toed combat boots to Poughkeepsie — mean, but rather fiercely honest. Honesty is scary (both to hand out and to receive) but it’s the only way to learn.
And maybe it’s not just about getting better as writers, but about learning how to be braver. Our critique groups could be little training grounds for how to work past and through our fears. *Ah grasshopper! Now, at last, do you see the power of the critique!*
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I think part of the reason that critique can be so hard to take is that most of the time, you know it’s true. We, as writers, should know our weaknesses. I usually suspect which parts of a story aren’t going as well as I’d hoped. Sometimes, my critique group disagrees and I know it was just me. Most of the time, they say “yeah, that’s not working.” And that means, back to the drawing board. Ugh. Criticism that comes out of left field is usually much more tolerable (“I don’t like your character’s name.”) because it’s irrelevant or so clearly based on personal opinion.
Great post, Mary. Thanks for the reality check on success and the mythical stories that writers all poison each other with. Stephenie Meyer is the exception that proves the rule.
- Liz
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I would love to get an unvarnished critique of my work. I’ve had to do a lot of challenging things since becoming a writer. Accepting critisism is just one of them.
It’s too bad people think that being a writer is a good “get rich quick scheme”. I don’t think most people say, “I’m 5′ 250lb and can’t walk without tripping, so I think I’ll become the next Kobe Bryant. But everyone things they can write a best seller.
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Your words are honest and writers need to hear that. The ones who want to grow and move forward anyway. Yes, it’s also true we writers are sensitive beings. We must keep that edge, which makes for splendid writing, all while taking in enough criticism and rejection to sink a cruise ship. Those that can withstand it, grow and never give up. Those who can’t, abandon ship.
To stay on board takes great persistence, a willingness to listen and take what we can use, but most of all an unyielding passion for the written word.
I recently attended a Writer’s Conference in Hawaii and the first ten pages of my manuscript were examined honestly. It was tough to hear I hadn’t captured what I thought I had. I cried. In front of the class. I hadn’t expected to do that. So, I’m human. I’d been working on that second novel for three years, but knew something was missing and also believed my instructor would get to the bottom of it.
She did.
And I’m forever grateful for what she taught me. Had I arrived there with the notion nothing but pretties regarding my work would be offered, I’d of left with nothing but my ego in tact. No salable story. As it was, she helped me find the true voices of the tale. I reworked those pages, am now rewriting, and feel extremely proud of the discovery. The conference was the best money and time I’ve ever spent.
Ego’s get in the way every time. We have to set them aside to mine the good stuff.
I appreciate your honesty in this post, Mary!
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I have to great wholeheartedly. At one of the first writing conferences I attended, a news reporter sat in to do a story on the conference workshop. He later told us how surprised he was by the brutal critiques that were given.
I know from my experience, that it’s when I get the hardest critiques, my work comes out shining brighter. Locally, we’ve started doing writer’s retreats twice a year for a whole novel. I have to admit that after a three hour discussion of my novel, part of me wanted to break into tears while the other part wanted to kick my story into shape. I also find that the stories I love the most, I tend to critique the hardest because I want to see it succeed.
There are even some published books where I wish the writer has spent more time to make their story stronger — because I love what they have so far, but it really had so much more potential. Has anyone else ever felt that way?
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Sometimes it isn’t easy to give a critique that will be helpful when you are dealing with younger writers, particularly when their attitude is that of, ‘when I finish something it is ready to go … no changes are necessary.’ Recently I was introduced (through an online chat) to an 18 year old son of a friend. My friend asked me if I would talk to her son, knowing that I am a writer, and was hoping that I might be able to give him some pointers. Well, over the holidays she sent me the first chapter of what I can only guess is supposed to be a novel – perhaps a novella – and I began to read … at least, I tried to read. What should have only taken perhaps ten minutes at the most to read seemed to take forever (a true test of the theory of relativity) as virtually every sentence in the piece had … issues (I’m trying to be kind).
Rather than writing a message right away I had to wait several days before addressing what I had encountered, and in the end my ultimate recommendation was for her son to gain a fundamental understanding of English grammar, an understanding of the simplest things in writing such as the presentation of dialogue in which each speaker requires the beginning of a new paragraph rather than a cascade of opening and closing quotation marks that made it virtually impossible to keep track of who was saying what at any given time.
One of the things that I wrote to her son was that it is very important for writers to be able to be dispassionate about their creations, particularly when it comes time to examine the work from a critical perspective. There are things that have to be done in order to perfect (as much as this is possible) a work, but none of this is possible if the writer retains their passionate connection to their work, holding the created thing as something akin to a child which must be protected at all costs. If we truly love our works we must allow them to be – when needed – ravaged, to be ripped apart and put back together in a better form. If the work has the potential for being ‘great’ (given the present state of publications, ‘good’ or even ‘average’ is more than likely enough of a standard, but I’m picky), they will be able to stand up to this severe criticism.
One technique that I practice – and recommend to everyone who will listen – is for all writers to read their work out loud before submitting it to someone else to read. When we hear our work (now, think about this for a moment – don’t just read the text out loud to get through the task – read it out loud and LISTEN to the text, listen to the rhythm of the words, listen to the syntax, the choice of words, whether the sentences make sense when ending and beginning … does that sentence really have to begin with ‘but’ or ‘and’ … really, no sentence NEEDS to begin with ‘but’ or ‘and’ … that is laziness and the sign of a writer that just doesn’t care enough to think about an alternative) we react to things differently than when we read them; we catch things that escaped our eyes alone, when we pay close enough attention to what we are hearing.
This works, of course, only when we take the time to do it diligently enough for it to make a difference; scanning the text as it comes out of the printer, just before you stuff it into an envelope, is not enough of an investment of time to count as having examined the text in a critical manner. I can’t count the number of times that I missed a stupid mistake on a paper I was submitting when I was in college or university that could have been corrected had I only taken the time to re-read my paper out loud. Trust me; I learned how well this technique works from years of experience.
In many ways it is a form of editing that has served me equally as a composer as well as a writer, but that’s another story for another time.
Wie viel ist Aufzuleiden!
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Stephanie Meyer proves that dumb luck still exists. (I feel I should stop now because I’m very anti-twilight and occasionally rant about it).
Sometimes I wonder what Twilight could have been if the thought & effort had been put into it. Or maybe it wouldn’t have been at all.
I’m not thick skinned enough. I need to work on that.
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Mary, you tell it like it is. Sometimes writers need to hear that their story sucks. One can give negative comments in a kind way, but it still stings. It’s better than having a pile of form rejection letters and no clue why no one wants your stinky story.
When I started out I submitted some stuff that wasn’t fit for the bottom of a bird cage. It would have been nice if someone had told me so. (Not like that, of course!) I participated in a critique group in which three of us were quick to point out what wasn’t working (and what was). The others were just as happy to sit around, pat each other on the back and say great job. While it’s good for the ego it is totally useless when it comes to improving as a writer.
I may be the only (English speaking) children’s book writer in all of Costa Rica. The children in my area don’t have books in their homes or read for fun. My husband didn’t even understand the concept of a library. That is why I am so thankful for SCBWI’s critique blog and the valuable feedback I get by posting and critiquing the work of others. It’s not easy to be told what your doing wrong but it’s important.
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Thanks for this post. It’s sometimes easy to forget that most of the time it’s not glamorous and that there is a long learning process. Thanks for the reminder.
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This post definitely has the realistic viewpoint of publishing today. It’s a long hard road.
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A million bad words? No problem. It’s the honest critique that I’m lacking. The worst thing you can hear from someone is how wonderful your book is and nothing contrary or constructive. It’s similar to business. How do you know if the coffee’s bad unless someone says something? Sometimes we’re blind to our own deficiencies. Well, I’m not, but I hear other people are . . .
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I’m on queried book numero 4 I’ve gotten positive feedback on each from agents, but most of the time it’s rejection. I’ve done a million bad words (probably even 10,000 hours of practice). The thick-skin to rejection’s the easy part. It’s knowing whether I’m across (or going to cross) that mediocre hump that creates a significant portion of the misery.
And, yeah, SM’s success is a nice little dagger thrust to the flank every time I hear/think about it.
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Thank you for writing that books sell everyday and dreams do come true. It’s a joy to read something positive about this industry.
I’ve finished book number 5 (I’m completely past the Stephenie Meyer stage – what a story!) and am a full-time nonfiction writer of about 400 articles so I must be close to that million word mark. It’s time to break through.
Does your skin ever get thick? I’ve learned to not read the changes that an editor’s made in what I write so maybe not.
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“Most people get published through the tears, snot, spilled coffee, midnight breakdowns and rare moments of joy that comprise a long time spent chasing a dream.”
I love that line. In an odd sort of way, it makes me feel hopeful.
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Thermocline,
LOL It’s like saying if you walk through broken glass barefoot you’ll eventually get there.
Mean while a bunch of us have glass shards in our feet and are asking, “It’s it very far now?” And Mary says, “Yes it is!” (Envision Papa Smurf.)Sorry know I’m warped, but I’m one of those gluttons for punishment who is still limping along.
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An honest, insightful but hopeful post, Mary. Keep them coming!
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Thanks, Mary, for telling the truth in love once again.
I learn more from every shovel to the head I get from one of my critque partners than I do from a dozen compliments. Does it hurt to hear “wow, that stank?” Heck, yeah. But, I feel if you take the craft seriously enough (and most of us do), the hard work will pay off. Then we get to do the victory jig in the living room!
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Good advice and thanks for the encouragement. I’m new to your site and am exploring and enjoying it.
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Great advice. And I loved the article about Stephenie Meyer. It reminded me of the American Idol season when Simon predicted rather early on that Carrie Underwood would win, stating that she had the “It Factor.” I think every industry has those “Mona Lisa” people where no one can quite define their tricks or secrets of success. But that isn’t to say that people without the “It Factor” can’t be great, or that you should even worry about how other people achieved their success. As you said, no one is going to get it the same way.
I’m a believer of the Malcolm Gladwell 10,000 hour theory. Unfortunately not many people are patient enough to stick with that exercise and wait for the greatness to emerge before pursuing publishing. If you wrote for two hours every single day it would still take you nearly fourteen years to reach that 10,000 hour status. I’m not sure even I’m that patient, and who can actually calculate their writing time?
We live in the age of “I want what I want when I want it.” Thus, the slush pile looms, the rejections flow.
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I always appreciate your honesty, Mary. It’s the main reason that this is my favourite agency blog and I look forward to more brutal honesty in the future.
I feel a degree of sympathy for those people stuck getting false critiques. Sure it’s hard to hear that there are problems with your story, but at the end of the day if you don’t know where your problems are then you can’t fix them.
With each ms I edit to completion, I hope that this might be the one that gets me published, but if it’s not I’d still like it to be something I’m proud of.Thanks again.
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Trackback from uberVU - social comments on January 22, 2010 at 1:32 pm
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“There is not a truth existing which I fear or would wish unknown to the whole world.” Thomas Jefferson.
I adore your tell-it-how-it-is manner. Though I don’t think it’s ever harsh or unwarranted. It’s the main reason I ignore my family to visit your blog instead. (Ha, ha!)
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Through the snot. LOL. I don’t think I’ve had the chance to write through my snot yet, but the image made me laugh. I certainly have had the chance to write through the tears and sweat and laughter, though.
I loved your comments on critique groups and growing that thick skin. It wasn’t until my third critique group that i found a group of writers willing to lay it all out with each other. Our one aspiration in being together was to be published. To this end, all comments were fair. The first time I had someone say to me, “This isn’t near your best. It looks like you didn’t try on this one. Try again.” I was a little taken aback, but I also listened. The first drafts have been easy. It’s those third and fourth and fifth and on where I really, actually write to my best.
The payoff in all this – that critique group wrote its own poetry anthology due out soon from a major publisher. Sweeet!
Thanks for your thoughts on this and your continued encouragement of the craft.
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I’ve been working on my current MS a long (long, long) time. I learned to write with it, and everything I learned came through honest critique. For me, so much of writing is just staying on the dance floor. It’s finding folks who will give you clear feedback and then incorporating that feedback again and again and again. (Thanks, Slushbusters!)
Whenever I get discouraged with the process of critique and rewriting, I think of something I read about Harrison Ford. He’d been in Hollywood a while without much happening, and realized that the folks who made it were the ones who just didn’t give up. Success was about perseverance, not innate star power.
Here’s to sticking with it!
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Well said, Mary, but of course, should we expect any less? Sarah, yes to the P word. Perseverance. And the other P word, Patience. And then the other one, Practice. It takes all three combined to get anywhere in this industry, add to that being open when you’re getting critiqued and not closed off with a “my writing is just fine, thankyouverymuch” attitude. It surprises me, really how many writers that are out there with this mind set. How can anyone ever expect to master their art if they never accept the fact they aren’t perfect to begin with? Blows my mind.
Thanks again! See you in April.
PS: Jmartinlibrary was astute in her summary of our workshop, DFWWW. There hasn’t been a day I haven’t come out of the room learning something about my writing, realizing something that may need to change, or you know, having my ego dropped a peg or two (which is a good thing at times!)
Write on.
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I’m learning to grow armadillo skin. I know I need to listen to advice to improve my writing, but I can’t let it get to my heart.
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What a great post and so true. I can’t imagine not listening to critique partners/groups. My favorite crits are the really rough ones. It’s always tough to hear/read, but better from critique partners than to query something that isn’t polished.
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I read somewhere once that pursuing the dream of getting published is like crushing on that super cute guy in math class who doesn’t even know you exist. One day, you hear that your nerdiest, geekiest classmate (the one that you never gave a second thought to before in your life) is now his girlfriend, and they’re madly in love.
The instant reaction would be FML, right? Years ago, when that was me, (okay, the girl in question was in no way the nerdiest and geekiest, but still) I spent years moping and wondering what on earth was wrong with me. Years later, when I first started querying my (totallyamazingandsuperawesome manuscript), and the form rejections came in, I found myself in the exact same dark pits of self pity…
And then I read the analogy above. Until this day, I don’t know WHERE I read it from, but it is pretty exact. The lesson learned? Someone else’s path to success will not be the same as yours. The best things in life don’t come in the form of instant gratification. Most of all, sometimes, the long and arduous process of making yourself (or in the writerly case, your manuscript) stronger and better after failure is the most gratifying process of all. At end of the day, you’ll find the love of your life/ a manuscript that you’ll personally love, and even if it doesn’t get published… you’ll be proud to read it again thirty years down the track. And, of course, friends in your crit-partners.
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Yeah, writing is tough. Getting published is tougher. But anything worth doing usually is.
I don’t understand people who don’t want to improve – and critique groups that are more like love fests flabbergast me. Frankly, if all your groupies ever give you is positive feedback, they’re probably not very good writers themselves. EVERY manuscript needs work. Even the ones that (eventually) get published.
P.S. I like how your blog gives me this nice little geometric design every time I comment. Makes me feel so…welcomed:)
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I was a closet writer of short stories and poems for probably a decade before abandoning it to make time for career building and the clinical writing necessary in my profession. It has only been in the last year that I have returned to writing daily for “fun” again, making 2-3 hours of time for myself daily, early in the morning before my family rises. This time I made an agreement with myself that if I was going to committ to this, I needed to actually let people read it.
I finished the first of my early drafts of a novel manuscript in about four months and honored my own directive by finding a critique group to review my work and give suggestions. I was SHOCKED. It was like pulling teeth to get them to say anything negative. Being an avid reader and the most outspoken member of my bookclub several years running, I expected people to approach my novel in a similar way. Heck, I was giving them permission! How hard could it be? Only the high school English teacher friend really gave me as much negative as positive and his comments have been the most valued by far! Can you, Mary, or anyone with some experience with critique groups, answer this: What are realistic expectations in regard to a critique group? Unfortunately for me, people seem to really resonante with my plot and the “page turner” pace, sitting down and reading it in one sitting. Why do I say unfortunately? As one reader put it, “Even though it is slow to get started, I loved the rest so much, I’d hate to see you change it. That was part of my experience of the book and I loved the book, so don’t change it okay?” Huge compliment, but “I’d hate to see you change anything” isn’t going to help me create a stronger start to my book! Is it realistic to expect any critique group to give me the nitty gritty, down and dirty, or do most people eventually have to suck up the cost and get professional editing help?
P.S. Loved your post Peter!
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Mary, I’ll take honesty over lies any day at any time. Keep these great articles coming. I am hooked and will come back daily for more.
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Pingback from Critique like you mean it « Day By Day Writer on January 22, 2010 at 7:53 pm
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Great post, Mary. Thanks. I linked to it on my blog. It’s something every writer should know.
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Client Books: Picture Books
PELLY AND MR. HARRISON VISIT THE MOON by Lindsay Ward (March 2011, Kane/Miller)
BUGLETTE, THE MESSY SLEEPER by Bethanie Murguia (May 2011, Tricycle Press)
WHEN BLUE MET EGG by Lindsay Ward (February 2012, Dial/Penguin)
ZOE GETS READY by Bethanie Murguia (May 2012, Arthur A. Levine Books/Scholastic)
Client Books: Young Adult
WILDEFIRE by Karsten Knight (July 26, 2011, Simon & Schuster)
MERCY LILY by Lisa Albert (Fall, 2011, Flux)
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