The Writing Critique: Sign Up and Show Up and Stick Around

“This is your writing. It’s important. I’m not advocating shoving yourself into the middle of someone else’s discussion or waving a red flag in the bathroom line, but put yourself out there.” ~ Becky Levine, in The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide.

One Sunday afternoon, it took all I had to get out of my house and into the car. It would be my first time, walking into a circle of strangers, sharing a short story that I had worked on for too long, putting my work and myself out there. Giddy and nervous, I worried I might talk too much or not at all. I wondered if I would leave elated or deflated. I was tempted to rest the fate of my whole writing career (what little there was of it at the time) on this two-hour experience, sitting in the basement of a mall at table with other writers. Luckily, the words of Becky Levine pressed on my conscious.

This is your writing. It’s important.

At some point in every Writer’s life, we enter into the critique zone. It’s inevitable and necessary, because, while most writing happens in isolation, our stories rarely succeed without others. So, we sign up and show up. And, some of us fret every time we traverse the stairs and walk into the room. 

Critiques aren’t easy. Never mind the vulnerability factor, when our work goes under the eyes of our peers. Critiques take skill, in giving them as much as in receiving them. A couple of books I’ve read have helped me survive moments with my writing groups in one way or another: Toxic Feedback: Helping Writers Survive and Thrive by Joni B. Cole and The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide by Becky Levine. Both authors make clear that how we give feedback is as important as how we receive it, because we learn from each side of the experience.

In the writing group in which I participate right now, critiques happen on the spot. The author reads his or her story, and we listen, write our thoughts down in the moment, share our comments right away. I much more prefer to read a story, let it digest, and then give my feedback a day or two later. The challenge for me then is, while I know when a passage or a character bumps me, I don’t always know why. Not immediately. Enter Becky Levine again, this time with her excellent article in the February issue of Writer’s Digest: “Critique Your Way to Better Writing.” Becky’s insights in this article on giving and receiving feedback hit home for me again..

“…[T]hink about the elements that make up our projects…such as character, explanatory narrative, scenes, dialogue, description and voice. Pretty much every weakness in a manuscript is a weakness in one of the big elements….”

I might not be able to pin-point exactly what throws me off during a writer’s reading of one story at a single critique session, but I can go home and think on it, even after I’ve submitted my comments. Then, in subsequent weeks, I will be more prepared to offer valuable feedback.

“Home in on the story element that’s creating the problem. Then…analyze what is and isn’t working. The more you critique, the easier answering these questions will become – and the more those answers will reveal themselves in your own work.”

That happens to me all the time. The more specific I am with my feedback, in things as simple as dialogue tags or as complex as creating more tension (or stretching out that tension) in a scene, the more I return to my own work and see areas that need the same kind of attention.

Writer’s reciprocity in its most genuine form. We learn from each other.

If you’re new to a writing group, stick around. If you haven’t joined a group, find one (even a soiree of writing friends will do). Pick up a copy of Joni B. Cole’s book on Toxic Feedback and one of Becky Levine’s Survival Guide. Better yet, pop over to Becky Levine’s webpage. She’s soliciting guest bloggers to post on their writing critique experiences, and she’s offering up copies of her book in return. Even if you don’t have an essay to submit, you can still enter to win a copy of her book by leaving a comment on these guest posts.

Want to read more on critique groups? Here are some other blog posts to check out:

“Getting the Most from a Critique” Lisa Hall-Wilson (on Girls with Pens) talks about the tone of a group, setting goals, and strengths and weaknesses.

“How Writing Groups Can Work for You” Susan Bearman (on Write It Sideways) highlights two important points: make a commitment to show up consistently and don’t minimize how much you can learn from hearing the work of writers outside your preferred genre.

How about you? What’s the greatest lesson you’ve learned by sitting around a table with other writers? Or, do you have a favorite book on surviving critiques?

“…[W]riting is a solitary effort, but it doesn’t have to be a lonely one — and
that is the real gift of feedback” ~ Joni B. Cole

 

A Chiropractor’s Dream

When someone throws out a writing prompt challenge, I generally accept.

Back in January, Susan Bearman kicked off her Annual Writing Contest on her blog, Two Kinds of People (2KoP). Susan is the master at writing about “the folly of arbitrary divisions,” as she says (case in point: this post on Fan vs. Fanatic). And, she makes it look easy. Her open prompt, “[p]ick your own favorite Two Kinds of People topic and write about it,” gave anyone interested all sorts of flexbility. But, what I learned in trying to tackle this prompt was that, well, Susan is a master.

My submission didn’t win – congrats to Deborah Carroll who did (you can read her essay here) – but it was a fun exercise. So, I’ll share: my two kinds of people.

*****

The Chiropractor’s Dream

A guy named Tim Ferriss wrote a blog post a while back describing how he can travel carrying 10 pounds or less. “The name of the game…,” he says, “is being ‘fashionably light.’” I’ve never been called “fashionable,” and, in my mind, “fashionably light” doesn’t even compute. Mr. Ferriss’ post on traveling contrasts with my own practices and solidifies my belief that people on the move fall into two separate camps: those who pack light and those who pack.

I don’t travel light — not on vacation, not when I go to work, not when I return home from the supermarket. I’ve never been a Den mother for any Boy Scout (the closest I’ve come to any Scout is paying seven dollars for two boxes of Thin Mints), but I pledge the Boy Scouts motto just the same – Be prepared – and therein lies my problem. I’m notorious for filling every pocket of a purse and occupying every inch of dead space in a bag. And, while I’m fully prepared for any and all emergencies on a given day, my inability to pack “fashionably light” sometimes leaves me looking and feeling like Igor in “Young Frankenstein” – humped over and eyes bulging.

I could blame my proclivity to over pack on being a mother. My kids are young, so I offer plenty of good reasons why I carry extra notebooks and pens, snacks, bottles of water, and one (or two) bags of tissue. But, “the kid excuse” does little to explain why my bag for work weighs almost as much as my four year old daughter. No, my days as a pack horse began long before I became a mother.

I was nine years old when I received my first invitation to a tea party. My best friend from down the block asked me over for the afternoon and suggested I bring a few of my stuffed animal friends. Like many kids, I possessed a whole slew of stuffed companions, all of them important. With a tender heart and a lot of patience, my mother helped me load each bear, bunny, and doll into several paper sacks (they wouldn’t fit into just one), and she asked if I was sure my friend meant for me to bring so many.

“Oh yes!” I said, emphatic, the word “few” being a relative term in my world even then.

We filled the back seat of her 1979 red and white Mercury with my bags of friends, and she drove from our house at the top of the hill to my friend’s house at the bottom. For all I know, she put the car in neutral and coasted down the hill, we lived that close. Then, she gave up five more minutes of her time to help me unload.

When I read a post like the one Tim Ferriss wrote, I dream of being a minimalist, of standing upright while I walk to work, of gliding through an airport with, say, a free hand to wave at a passerby. I stare longingly at small travel bags in stores like REI, and I run my hand across the face of a cute little clutch at the mall. And sometimes, like last week, I succumb to the dream. I buy a new bag with the sole purpose of downsizing, of lightening my load and correcting my posture.

But, my motto always gets the best of me.

Downsizing is a temporary fix.
Leather stretches.
And, that new bag I’m carrying is getting fatter by the day.

*****

What about you? Don’t be fooled into thinking this is just a woman thing. Remember George Costanza and his wallet?….

* The above photo comes from www.moviemarket.com. Search under “Marty Feldman.”

[tweetmeme]