Seeing from another's eyes

by Joan

Over the years the six of us have critiqued each other’s work in any number of combinations, depending on time commitments and type of critique sought, among other things. We’ve learned each other’s styles and strengths. As Kim said in an earlier post on our critique styles, “We are six very different people brought together by a mutual love of writing.” 

Over the past few months, Elizabeth and I have provided detailed feedback on our respective manuscripts. One night after a lengthy back and forth she emailed me this:

“I have to tell you, the irony of you telling me XXX needs fixed, and meanwhile I'm telling you XXX needs fixed is striking. Because we are saying the same thing pretty much about the other's MS--but in yours, it makes perfect sense to you, and in mine, it makes perfect sense to me. Had you noticed this too? :)”

Well, no, I hadn’t, until then. After drafts and revisions and rewrites and more revisions, it’s nearly impossible to be objective about your own work. Paragraphs flow in your head as if they were lyrics to a song and you hum and smile as you re-read for the sixtieth (at least) time, convinced no one could possibly find a clunky sentence. (Trust me, they will). It never occurred to me that my manuscript included the very things that trip me up in another’s work.

Along this same vein, we noticed how we differ in our reactions to plot points. I was completely convinced my character was in the wrong about a particular situation and wrote a scene with her apologizing profusely and trying to fix it, while Elizabeth couldn’t see anything wrong with my character's behavior and found the call for atonement odd. At the same time, I disagreed with one of her character’s actions while it seemed completely logical to her.

I perceive the world, and therefore fiction, from my own spyglass. My experiences, good and bad, have tinted the lens. Yours have done the same. Your view might not be the same as mine, but that doesn’t make it wrong. As a critique partner, I have a responsibility to recognize that my opinion is only that, my judgmental observation. That I need to widen that spyglass range to allow that other people don’t see the world or their lives as I do. 

Or, as the eloquent Elizabeth Berg wrote in The Pull of The Moon:

“I have wanted you to see out of my eyes so many times.” 

Say wha?

By Pamela

Last week author Kelly Corrigan came to Dallas and unfortunately, we weren't able to hear her speak but I did enjoy this TEDx talk Susan told me about. If you have a few minutes, it's certainly worth your time to listen to her speak about literacy and what impact reading has on your life.

Here are some startling statistics she shares:

• After high school, 33% of graduates never read a book.
• After college, that number jumps to 42%.
• When the state of Arizona forecasts the number of beds they'll need for their prisons, they look to the number of kids in fourth grade who read well.
• The number one cause of divorce: poor communication. 
• The number one predictor of occupational success is vocabulary. 

It's no secret that reading results in a better command of language, and Kelly goes on to talk about how reading builds vocabulary. I'm so grateful my young life began with a mother who read to me. I went on to love reading on my own and count my school librarians as some of my favorite educators. Today, I don't read as much as I wish, but no place feels more like 'home' to me than snuggling up with a book.

If you are a parent, you have the awesome responsibility of fostering a love of reading in your child. My three started out gnawing on board books and eventually 'cut their teeth' on reading solo the BOB Books and later Berenstain Bears and Dr. Seuss. When we closed the cover on one story, we often switched on a CD to listen to Junie B. Jones' antics (Lana Quintal is fabulous!) or The Boxcar Children as they drifted off to sleep. While it's too soon to see if they'll become a statistic and not read after college, I certainly hope they'll love to read as adults.

I think Kelly's comments about communication resonated the most with me, and at times I'll write a word and pause to consider 'Is this the best word? Is this really what I'm trying to say?' and it's not about using a big $5 word either--one that looks or sounds impressive. Simple, direct, succinct can go a long way in communicating my ideas. Like my girl said the other day: "I possess an amazing vocabulary ... in other words ... I know a lot of words."

Writers need to communicate not only their ideas to readers but also to those with whom they interact. If you're part of a writing critique group, expressing yourself effectively is key to not only giving feedback but receiving it as well. If you hand off your work to a reader for critique, are you expecting a line edit? A copy edit? Changes tracked? Overall impression? The same goes with giving feedback to someone else. Make sure you outline your expectations and ask what's expected in return.

Joan and I recently participated in a webinar which included an agent's 'critique' of the first two pages of our manuscripts. We both got ours back the other day with similar feedback--what we considered to be fairly nonspecific comments at the bottom of the second page. Apparently 'critique' can be interpreted many different ways and we, perhaps unjustly, expected something more than we received.

So, before this becomes a post about how reading affects how we drive, what we eat, who we marry and where we vacation (trust me, I think I can connect these dots), I'll close with a final caveat: You'll never regret time spent reading--to your child, by yourself, to an elderly friend. The challenge begins with: What should I read next?

Sliding In

By Pamela 

My softball girl (R) with her teammate.

Last week at my girl's softball game, as the third inning was about to start, the opposing team's catcher hurled the ball back to their pitcher, who wasn't looking, and it hit her in the head. Granted, the catcher didn't have an arm at all and it was more of a lob, but the pitcher was understandably upset and grabbed her forehead and cried. Possibly a little due to shock that the ball didn't bounce first before reaching the mound.

The pitcher's mom was apparently one of the five coaches in the dugout (it takes a village to herd a team of ten-year-olds), and she flew onto the field to assist her daughter. Mom's sprint to the mound ended as she slipped on the pitching rubber and wiped out, twisting her knee and ankle thus assuring she needed help off the field. After the game we saw her husband carrying her fireman-style to the car to take her for X-rays. Her daughter? She recovered enough to stay on the field and pitch. At the next game, Mom was wearing a boot--just one and it wasn't made of leather. 

This made me think about how we sometimes overreact to feedback when it comes to our writing. Someone we entrust with our manuscript doesn't like one of our characters, and so we storm into morphing her from a wallflower to a social butterfly. Another helpful early reader thinks our story would be better told from first-person, and so we slide headfirst into changing every 'she' to 'I', every 'they' to 'we'. The next person in line suggests the setting should take center stage, and we spend hours dropping in elements related to the weather, the landscape, the regional colloquialisms.

In the end, our critics think our story is much improved while we're the ones stuck sporting an ugly blue boot with noisy Velcro straps--not to mention the pain of living with a manuscript that isn't really ours, but the product of those around us.

I know my manuscripts have improved greatly from the advice of the women on this blog, but have I employed EVERY suggestion offered up? No, not at all. And I hope I take a moment to consider the changes before diving in with edits. Like the mom in the dugout who should have waited a moment or two or five before seeing if her still-standing daughter would be just fine without her assistance (a lesson I think would serve them both well later in life), as writers I think we're better served if we take our time in weighing the opinions of our early readers.

The Writers' Center

by Joan

Over fifteen years ago, I began my first novel-length manuscript. As I write this post, my fourth is out in the world, auditioning for a wider audience.

Since that first story lured me into this crazy profession, I have chased words toward the paradise of perfection, always striving to lay down my vision of truth on the page. With each manuscript my writing grows, but still my words fall short and I realize I’m still learning. I will always be learning.

Over the years, I’ve participated in several workshops. Each has filled my writing stores with additional tools and left me inspired to keep going. In my first 8-week novel workshop at the Writers’ Center in Bethesda, Maryland, I was fortunate to study under Barbara Esstman, long-time instructor and author of two beautiful novels, The Other Anna and Night Ride Home. Before reading my pages aloud to a group of ten strangers, I suffered from an odd combination of nerves and shy confidence. I think back to that first workshop, at my naïveté. I had much to learn about my craft.

Since then, I moved to Texas, joined a critique group and discovered my amazing What Women Write comrades. Each of my writing partners has boosted me up, both in skill and in spirit. But I’m still chasing paradise, still seeking to improve.

I recently completed an online Advanced Novel Workshop at the Writers' Center with instructor Jenny Moore, a novelist and editor whose deep critique of my first 50 pages prepared me to tackle the rest of my manuscript for new submissions. In Jenny’s workshop, I was fortunate to meet insightful classmates who were generous with their time and detailed in their critiques.

Spending concentrated time in a room with other serious writers is ideal, but online workshops have something to offer, too.

• To get the most out of your workshop, engage online with the instructor and other participants. Study the instructor’s thoughts on craft, participate in the discussions, apply the exercises to your current project and maybe start something new.

• As with in-person critique, be polite but honest. Commenting in a virtual forum does not allow for tone or facial expression, so make sure your words reflect your intentions. As Jenny wrote, "Remember to approach each piece of work on its own terms. What do you think is possible for THIS work to be its best self?"  

• Your unique perspective adds value. Don’t be intimidated because other participants are more insightful or more eloquent than you. You take your writing seriously or you wouldn’t be there—you read widely and recognize a good story when you see it.

• Show up at your computer and stick to the deadlines. We all want our work critiqued, but others rely on your feedback for theirs. If you’ve committed to eight weeks, participate in every one.

• Accept critique with humility, patience and appreciation. In an online workshop, you benefit from the privacy to process comments and suggestions. Don't sulk or become defensive--look for the gold in their advice.

• Appreciate various perspectives and advice from those writing in other genres.

• Study not only the critique of your own work, but also that of your classmates. 
  
  

If you’re looking to take your writing to the next level, I highly recommend taking a workshop, whether with the brilliant instructors and participants at The Writers’ Center or with another venue. For those of you in Maryland, Jenny Moore is teaching a 15-week intensive Master Novel Workshop, beginning in January. If I still lived on the east coast, I would apply. 

Of Course, You Can Read My Manuscript, Dear. (Gulp.)

By Kim

Since finishing the manuscript for The Oak Lovers I’ve been through several rounds of critique and revision. I’d like to think I’ve developed a thick skin, that I can take most of what is thrown at me graciously, and consider comments carefully before deciding if I agree with them or not. I turned into a quivering mass of raw nerves, however, when I handed the novel over to a certain reader yesterday.

I sat at my desk pretending to work. Behind me I heard a lot of typing. This reader is not the type to give many “roses” and so he must be finding a lot of “thorns.” He likes science fiction, fantasy, espionage and high-octane stories with big body counts. The Oak Lovers has no alternate universes, car chases, gore, or doomsday scenarios. It’s a (gasp) love story, and the only political intrigue takes place within the Toronto art circles of the early 20th century.

I paint with words. My husband, Mr. PhD-in-physics, prefers to think in equation form.

Madonna Ahrens circa 1910

I knew he wouldn’t be familiar with a single historical figure in the book other than Carl and Madonna, and he only knows them because Carl’s art hangs on our walls and he sees their photographs on our walls. This artfully-posed nude photograph of Madonna playing a cello hangs within sight of his desk. When he encounters a sex scene, will he picture her a little too clearly and feel he must keep his eyes forever averted from that wall?

If an agent hates my book, there are always other agents. If my husband does, I’ll be heartbroken.

Five chapters in, he called me over to his desk and went over his comments. As I suspected, literary references went over his head. There aren’t many, they aren’t obscure, and they make sense in context, but the unfamiliar names tripped him up. He called the story “enjoyable” though, and he’s neck deep in the courtship phase, which will be the least interesting to him.

Much of what he brought up won’t be a problem in my genre and tripped up none of my other readers. I don’t discourage him from marking up the book, though. The fact that he points things out and takes the time to comment on more than a stray typo proves he loves me enough to read carefully, even if it isn’t his type of book. It shows he’s taking an interest in my work and has a vested interest in my success.

To my writer friends: At what point do you show your work to your spouse? What has your experience been?

A Critique Partner | Defined

By Pamela

Why should a writer have a critique partner? What do they really do? It's really hard to take what I have here and define it. And critique partners can mean one thing to one writer, another to the next. To put it as simply as possible, I'll say that ...

... a good critique partner:

• knows and respects your writing goals
• is familiar with and appreciates your writing style 
• doesn't try to conform your writing style to match her own
• probably isn't related to you--your family members aren't likely the best to judge your work
• is fair in her criticism as well as her praise
• reciprocates
• understands The Sandwich principle: praise (bread) + criticism (meat and cheese and sometimes mayo--but never more than you can stand) + praise (bread)
• respects your time when asking for your input
• respects your deadline when you ask for input
• knows the value of an encouraging word 
• understands the publishing market (if your goal is to be published)
• admits when a particular genre is not her forte
• admits when grammar isn't her forte 
• reads--and reads widely
• is honest in her assessment but never harsh

If you haven't found a critique partner, check online for area writing groups. Attend a few and see who you connect with. You might enjoy the support of a group that meets in public or find that an online group better suits your schedule. For us, a mix of both works well--much of our communication takes place via email but we meet for lunches two, three, four at a time and as a whole group whenever possible. 

In closing, may I add that the Track Changes feature in Word can be a critique partner's best ally? If you're not using it, check it out.

Who's got your back?

By Pamela

Last week, the six of us spent the evening at the Richardson Reads One Book event, hearing Jamie Ford discuss his bestseller: Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet. As we were standing in line to talk to Jamie, the six of us began discussing our upcoming retreat. We really weren't all that quiet while we talked about what we loved about last year's place, where we might want to go this year, who was willing to room with whom, and so forth.

Eventually, we realized, since we were almost the last in line, we might as well let the few behind us go before us. Just like having a few more than 15 items in the express lane, we figured it was only fair not to make the others wait. (We knew we'd want to chat with Jamie and maybe talk him into a photo op.)

As we let the others go ahead of us, a lady who graciously moved up in the queue leaned in and asked me, "Are y'all related?" I wondered if she thought we might be planning a family reunion--a gathering of sisters or cousins who really don't resemble each other that much.

"No," I said. "We're writers."

But maybe I answered too quickly because we are a family. We're bonded in a way that makes me know I have five women who have my back. And while we've never lived under one roof (except for during our annual retreats, which last three days and nights), we do reach out to each other--either over lunch, phone calls or emails.

Not a day goes by that I don't hear from at least one of the other five. And even though, due to work and family commitments and the distance between our homes, we don't get together as often as we'd like, we might meet two or three at a time.

When Susan transitioned from full-time, work-at-the-office employee to work-from-home consultant, she and I met for lunch and talked for hours about her new role. When Julie's book deal went to auction, Susan grabbed lunch and half a dozen cupcakes and went over to Julie's house to hold vigil, while we all eagerly waited to hear the news. This week, Elizabeth and I have a lunch date planned to discuss her new manuscript and figure out some details about where mine is heading. And next month, Joan and I are driving to Austin for a Writers' League of Texas workshop we both thought would serve us well.

Last week I paid the deposit on our new retreat location at a lake house that usually hosts scrap-bookers. (A couple of emails went around to explain to Susan what the heck a 'crop table' was; we'll use them for critique sessions.) When I told the home's owner that we were a group of writers, she said, "Oh, we've never had writers before."

"Well, we're a lot of fun," I told her. "We're like sisters."

If you write and don't have the support of like-minded souls, I urge you to get out there. Write in public, don't hesitate to tell others that you're a writer, attend author events, seek out writing groups, go to conferences, check out online groups like Backspace. I know my life has been made all the more richer because I got out from behind my computer and met My Fabulous Five.

Countdown

By Joan

Not that I’m counting, but in seven short weeks my only kid goes to college. During these bittersweet days, he’s been around more than in his past four years. He’s indulging me a bit, but I sense he’s also feeling bittersweet about leaving. He’s asked for man-in-the-moon eggs, shared movies and great meals, played card and board games, even my new obsession, Words with Friends, a crazy iBlank game which must soon be deleted from my phone! Soon this microburst of bonding and joy will be replaced by excitement and angst as we send him across the country, into the vast and sometimes harsh world.

I’m in the midst of another countdown—four weeks (give or take) until I send my first query for The Italian Architect at Highgate. Right now my manuscript is in the hands of my trusted group of beta readers. All of my What Women Write partners have either critiqued it or are doing so now, plus I’ve enlisted a few trusted mega-bookworms who share the same taste in fiction.

Some established writers might balk at the idea of so many people commenting and picking apart their manuscripts, but after writing, rewriting, revising, editing, culling, sprucing, sprinkling, killing, I’ve lost a bit of perspective. Plus, as any proud parent would, I relish the time and attention my baby is getting.

Most writers who have queried manuscripts (as a 3-time almost ran, I feel somewhat qualified) know that opinions vary widely. There will be those who love your idea and words, others who pass them by. It’s no different than browsing a bookstore display of new fiction—sometimes you just know at the first few words that it’s not for you.

If three people love a sentence or paragraph and one does not, look hard at the negative comment. Especially if the phrase in question has bothered you—I have one or two in Highgate—hone and twist it into a fresher sentence, save it for your next go, or send it to the guillotine and briefly mourn. The trick is to study the advice and comments and track-changed manuscript for what feels right.

Ultimately, you are the final judge of what ends up in the version you send off to agents and editors. You are the one who will send your baby off to the harsh world, and know it will be in good hands, that in 18 months (or 4 years) from now, you will reap the benefits, see its name on a shelf or a college diploma.