The Art and Heart of Critiquing

Critiquing can be a touchy thing. Rejection letters, no matter how thoughtful, are always rejections. And critiques, no matter how delicate, often involve little stabs at the heart--over and over again.

Our last meeting sparked a flurry of emails about our responsibilities to our fellow Slushies and whether or not there are things we should not comment on, like the publishability of our work, which in turn sparked debate over what we’re all in the group for anyway. All in all, good conversation.

Here are excerpts from my emails. Hopefully other Slushies will share their thoughts as well.

I think that we are all in this group for a variety of reasons, some of them overlapping and some not. At different stages each of us may be really on a roll, working on a big project we intend for publication, or in between projects, or in a slump, or targeting specific skills to work on, or simply playing with words.

As far as I'm concerned all of those reasons and more are perfectly valid, and we should support each other in what we're trying to do. However, it may not always be clear what each of us is coming for, so the more specific we can be about the questions we ask our fellow Slushies, the better our feedback will be.

The way I grow most as a writer is through all those comments that make my heart sink when I first hear them, the ones that I want to sweep under the rug and dismiss because obviously my genius has been tragically misunderstood. But if I sit with them for a while and wait for the heart-sinking to stop and take a good honest look, that's when the real growth happens. That's when I'm a real writer. That's when I decide the truth for my story and me. Often as not, I do end up dismissing comments, but only after a good honest look at them.

I may regret saying this sometime down the line, but I'm going to say it anyway. If a Slushie were to say to me that she thinks I could be writing something better than this, or that I should put my energies into something else, or that I should take my writing in such-and-such direction....well, though I might whimper a little inside, I would welcome that feedback. We are each in a position to see each other's work from a unique perspective. I look to the Slushies to help me be a better writer, and I hope that includes choice of topics. If a Slushie said to me, "Lisa, I would love to see you write a more realistic story about a kid living in the Netherlands," I would think about that very seriously. Of course I may always say that I'm writing what I'm passionate about and I don't want to write realism. But at least you've spoken and I've heard you and we are thinking about the whole process of writing and not just the words that make it to the page.

To me, critiquing involves everything from grammar to story, style to character, revision to query, and hopefully one day to contracts and book signings. I want the Slushies with me every step of the way.

Stay tuned for more on this topic. Next installment: But would you publish it?

This made me laugh

Remember how I've been enjoying my new-found free time after getting my degree?  Just picking books up off the library shelves?  

I just read this in Sarah Strohmeyer's Bubbles in Trouble:

"The next morning, a Tuesday, I was lying in bed, wondering [...] what length of miniskirt would be acceptable in Amish country, when the portable phone rang."

Beauty, Discipline and Inertia...oh yeah, and Writing

Yesterday, for the first time in ages, I didn't work on my novel the entire day. I didn't write one new word. I didn't revise a single sentence. I don't even know that I thought about it. Today, I didn't get back to it until late in the evening, and by then I was practically shaking from withdrawal. Okay, not really, but my mind was surely shaking.

You see, for the first time in my life, I am writing regularly. Not a lot, but every day. Sometimes it's only 15 or 30 minutes, but those are good solid fingers-clacking-constantly-on-keyboard minutes not those mamby-pamby looking-out-the-window-thinking minutes. This, more than anything else, makes me feel like a real writer.

So I am here to say that I've discovered the beauty of discipline. And also that for me, inertia is everything. If I'm at rest, I'm likely to stay at rest...forever. But if I'm writing, and I keep writing every day, then eventually, I'm likely to finish this book.

Meeting in the Hague

It sounds so glamorous, doesn’t it? Dashing across the country, from Groningen to Den Haag, for a meeting of the Netherlands chapter of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI). In reality, it was a long train ride. But I got to leave my son with oma and opa and be a grown-up for a while. Besides, I’d never been to the Hague, so it was a good excuse to go.

The meeting was small. Only three of us showed up. I suppose everyone wanted to get out and enjoy the first sunny Saturday this winter. The chapter leader, Laura Watkinson, and another woman, Linda Lodding, and I sat down and talked. We talked books. We talked writing. We talked inspiration. And we talked about the plan of events for the coming year. The chapter is small and only started halfway through last year. So it’s pretty cool that next month we have British author Leila Rasheed visiting us for a reading, a talk, and manuscript critiques.

For me, it was nice to get out and talk to other writers, to speak English freely without worrying that I should be practicing my Dutch. And best of all, Linda and I made a pact. I’ve had some stories lying around ever since their last round of rejections in October. They really should be on their way somewhere or sitting in cozy slush on some editor’s desk. So Linda and I have agreed that by Friday we will both send off our stuff. Anyone else want to join in on the pact?

Oh yeah, then I got to walk around this beautiful city. I missed the Escher museum, but maybe next time.

First Pages

Post-degree life has given me time to wander through the library and take home a fat stack of books. What did I do today, with five new books in front of me?  

I read first pages.  

First pages have been coming up a lot. There was a first pages panel at last October's Mid-Atlantic SCBWI conference. Editorial Anonymous has been critiquing first pages at her secret blog for the Anonymati. (Don't tell her I sent you- or at least be sure to learn the secret handshake.) I've been trying to figure out what should be on my story's first pages.

Of course, the writer in me wants agents, editors, and readers to flip beyond uninspiring first pages. It seems shallow to stop reading after a page or two- like not getting to know a girl just because she's having a bad hair day. (Believe me, I know about bad hair days.) C'mon guys, I want to say. Give me a chance.

But the reader in me just finished skimming the first pages.* I didn't even realize what I'd done till a few minutes later. The truth is, readers have choices- lots of them. It's not shallow to make the doorway to our story as inviting as it can be. 

Gotta go.  I have a book to read.

*I think Nathan Bransford made the think-like-a-reader argument a while ago.  Much better than I just did. But I couldn't find the link.

What Happened Next Changed Everything

So, I'm a bit of a snob about good writing. When I pick up a book I want to be transported. Anything that distracts me from that—stiff dialogue, one-dimensional characters, contrived plot-line, my husband asking silly questions—is a bit annoying and does not bode well for my finishing the book. I can overlook these things and plunge in anyway, but it requires a sacrifice. It requires that I turn off part of my brain and turn the pages faster.

I do this sometimes with sci-fi and fantasy, Harry Potter, and other things I've been hoodwinked into reading and then can't put down. I genuinely enjoy these books—a great plot can go a long way—but I don't savor the words the way I want to. It's like the difference between eating french fries (and I do love my fries) and eating mashed potatoes topped with a nice french lentil, mushroom and red wine sauce (yum). I guess you can say they're both potatoes.

When I read, I don't want to see the writer behind the writing. I want to believe. When writers reach into their bag of cheap tricks, it's difficult for me to bypass my critical brain and enjoy the story. We all know these tricks—telling instead of showing, using lots of adjectives and the dreaded adverbs, hokey metaphors, etc. And here's one that I've always rather despised: “What happened next changed everything.”

I mean, c'mon, we might as well put a big red arrow on the page saying, “turning point here.” But then (yes, you knew there was a but) I started writing a what-happened-next-changed-everything moment and well, I'm tempted. It would be so easy. I mean, I'm building the tension, people are running, things are flying through the air, trees toppling, everything in chaos. And then comes the moment. What's so wrong about telling the reader, “Hey, look here: This is the moment. Pay attention”?

I've just started reading the Golden Compass series by Philip Pullman because someone said my middle grade fantasy novel sounds “a bit Golden Compassy.” Good to know. So, I'm reading along. I'm liking the book—rich detail, sympathetic character, intriguing concept. And then I come to it. The moment. Already on page 6?

“What she saw next, however, changed things completely.”

And it works here. The sentence doesn't feel like a gimmick or a cheap trick. It chills me; it levels me. It sweeps aside the tangle of complicated plot intro and lush detail surrounding it and clears a path for the really important bit. “What she saw next, changed things completely.”

What's a snob to do? I may be softening my view. Maybe it's okay and even (dare I say it?) good to let the reader know what to pay attention to, in case they forget to fawn over every word that we so deliberately agonized over. Maybe we need to occasionally (once per book would be enough) grab them by the ears and say, “Pay attention to this.”

So, what's the verdict? Cheap trick or useful writing tool?

I Hate This Part

I've been pounding away on The Looking Glass for a month now.  

Actually, I've been writing The Looking Glass for the past nine years- I learned to write with this story. Last year, however, I realized it needed yet another rewrite- one that would weave a completely new subplot through the story. After finishing my degree in December, (hello sleep and free evenings!) I began rewriting the entire novel.

I despise ... loath ... detest writing first drafts.  

And this rewrite needs tons of new material. I am not the writer who creates beautiful first drafts. Writing first drafts feels like a bad date: I'm awkward, uncertain, unable to maintain a conversation, and hoping- please, dear God- that it will end soon.  

Since I'm working with a novel, I've been writing the first draft for a chapter and then moving on to the next chapter.  It's killing me to leave so much unfinished business behind. These drafts aren't even good enough for the Slushies to read yet.

Still, it's been a great experience, this butt-in-chair time (as Jane Yolen calls it).

I've found gems in every chapter. I discovered a great character. I spun a beautiful sentence. (I doubt I'll keep any other part of that chapter, but the sentence is a good one. It's the heart of that portion of the story and the place I'll begin when I revise.)

I'm realizing that this horribly uncomfortable process doesn't mean that I'm a bad writer. Good writers ... write. Even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard. It takes courage to write something I know will begin as utter dreck. It requires confidence and tenacity to turn that beginning into something I'll be proud of.

This beginning is the part of writing that curls my toes and gives me nightmares. But I can do it.

So I will.