Cover Reveal for Disciple Part III

Today, I'm happy to bring you the cover for the next installment in L. Blankenship's gritty fantasy series Disciple, which I had the good fortune of beta reading.

To learn more about her work, check out my interview with her from last fall, and the guest post she did this spring on making deliberate writing choices. And if you'd like to learn more about her take on cover art, check out this post.

Saint Qadeem is looking particularly badass, if I say so myself.

About Disciple, Part III:

Kate fought for her place as a healer in the war’s front lines. Serving her homeland has been her goal since her magical gifts earned her a coveted apprenticeship with the kingdom’s greatest healer. She believes she’s prepared.

But nothing’s simple when defending a besieged capital city — or her heart.

She loves the prince, who means to protect her even though his duties as a knight keep him on the battlements, fighting the enemy’s monstrous army.

Kate’s husband is the one who checks on her, lingers over dinner, and slowly but surely charms her. She’s all too aware that her beloved prince threatened to kill him if he touches her.

As the enemy thunders against the city walls, the kingdom needs more from Kate than just her healing magic. All disciples must put aside their tangled feelings and stand in the homeland’s defense.

Kate believed she's ready for a war. She isn't.

The official cover reveal and "Next Big Thing" post are over at Disciple of the Fount.

Disciple, Part III arrives September 1st, 2013!

Part I and Part II are available at all major retailers

Sample Part I • Sample Part II • Sample Part III

Interview with Fran Wilde

Today, please welcome SF/F writer Fran Wilde to the blog!

I met Fran at Taos Toolbox and was impressed by her ability to fuse lyrical writing with genre fiction. She became a full SFWA member in July 2012 and scored an agent (!) in May 2013, and I’ve asked her here to share a bit more about herself and her writing journey.

Please tell us about your journey from when you first decided you wanted to be a writer through now.

Are there children in the room? Best ask them to leave, this gets messy…

I was a writer the moment I realized you could make words stick around by writing them down.

Mine is a storytelling family (some relatives use circular breathing so they can’t be interrupted; others tell fantastic yarns that end with ‘Whelp. So that happened.’). I grew up listening to their stories – some of which changed each time they were told. When I wrote my stories down, they stayed put. I liked that.

And more than anything, I was a reader. I got my own library card as soon as possible, and I was on a first-name basis with the local indie bookstore owners. I read everything I could, especially if it had spaceships, universe-sized intrigues, computers, fantastic creatures, strange people, or, better, all of the above.  Some of what I read wasn’t viewed as appropriate reading for me – I got told that a lot. I read it and loved it anyway.

Two years after I completed my MFA, I set aside the manuscript I was working on in order to focus on three things that paid the bills: teaching, copywriting (mostly for engineers and tech), and programming. While I wrote during that time, I didn’t send anything out, and I didn’t have a community of writers, save for a few dear friends who kept reminding me who I was. Finally, one day I snapped and wrote half a story – and the next day I wrote some more, and soon I was back on a regular writing schedule. And this time around, I gave myself full permission to write what I wanted to write.

No big shock, then, that my new stories had space in them. And programming, and engineering. And poetry. And strange creatures. I found a resource online – the SFF Online Writing Workshop – and critiqued there for a while before dropping a story in to see what would happen.  That led to finding my first crit buddies – several of whom I still exchange work with.  Five months later, I went to Viable Paradise and Jim MacDonald and the instructors at the Martha’s Vineyard workshop told me I wasn’t really a short story writer. They dared me to try to write a novel in 90 days. And I met more of my community. That was fantastic.

A similar thing happened at Taos – where I met you! And I’m a better writer for it all.

You have both a Masters in information architecture and interaction design and an MFA in poetry, which are very different fields. How does this background inform your writing?

Programming and poetry share more in common than you might think. I’d love to see a poem written in regular expressions that actually compiles into something.  I love the places where the two meet: interactive narratives, using hypertext and gorgeous graphics. I love graphic novels too.  And I’m very aware of sensory stuff – particularly the sounds words make – sometimes too much so. I get caught up in nets of sound.

What piece of writing advice has been key to bettering your craft? 

Easy is the enemy. Keep writing, every day. Put that amazing draft away for six weeks, then look at it again, with a critical eye.

I had the good fortune of reading the amazing novel that got you agented. Please share a bit about the book and what you're working on now.

Bone Arrow is a science-fantasy YA novel that demanded to be written. I love building worlds, and this one’s a lot of fun, and strange, too. Think Cirque du Soleil meets the Codex Seraphinianus. But what I love best is the characters – because once I gave them the space, they ran with it. I had all these things planned out for them and instead, they did their own things, a lot of which completely surprised me.

Right now, I’m working on a second generation story set in the same world, with different characters. There’s a related short story coming out in the Impossible Futures anthology in August, called “A Moment of Gravity, Circumscribed”.

And I’m working on a novella set in a different universe, and revisions to my first novel, Moonmaker, which is more tech-driven.  I usually keep a lot of projects going so that if one slows down or I need to stick it in a drawer, I can pick up another.

What is important for a beginning or intermediate writer to understand about writing for publication?

Ah. This is the hard part. Rejection isn’t personal. It feels personal. It can feel like you’ve been judged as not worthy – like you’re not really a writer when you get that “unfortunately”.  But writing for publication is all about ‘Right time, right editor, right story.” Pro writers get rejections too. The key is to send that story back out – and to keep sending it out. I need to do that with a few stories, actually. [Bad writer: no biscuit.]

Another good idea is to volunteer to read slush for a magazine in your genre. Keep an eye on your favorites via Twitter and Facebook. Editors sometimes post requests for new slush readers there.  Once you see the scope of a typical slush pile, you’ll realize it’s not personal. And hopefully that will help you start to feel more confident about your writing and your submissions as well.

Thanks so much, Fran!

Thank you Lauren! It’s always great to talk with you!

You can find Fran on Twitter [@fran_wilde] and stay up-to-date with her writing through her blog: http://franwilde.wordpress.com/

                       

Interview with Lori M. Lee

Today I’m happy to bring you an interview with my critique partner Lori M. Lee. 

In December of 2011, she signed with Suzie Townsend of New Leaf Literary, and her book deal (!) with Skyscape was recently announced. She blogs about the writing life at http://lorimlee.blogspot.com/

Thanks for stopping by today, Lori! For the uninitiated, could you give us a brief overview of your writing journey up until now?

Thanks for having me, Lauren :) It's been almost four years since I began my first manuscript-with-intent-to-query/publish in 2009. It was a NaNoWriMo, and I spent a year editing and rewriting it based on feedback from my amazing CPs (like you! :D) before querying. While querying that project, I began working on Gates of Thread and Stone. This story so much fun to write, and I was extremely fortunate to receive an offer of representation in November of 2011 after only a few weeks of querying. But the work definitely didn't end there. A major revision and a year later, I finally got that yes from an editor!

What is something that surprised you about being an agented writer? Many aspiring writers put so much emphasis on getting an agent without necessarily thinking about what happens after reaching that milestone.

This is sort of dumb (and a good example of how my brain works... or doesn't, in this case), but when I began my next project, I had brief moments of panic when I thought about writing the query. Then, at some point, it struck me—I don't have to write a query. My agent doesn't require one. The query was always such a stress-filled requisite of writing a new manuscript-with-intent-to-find-an-agent that it didn't immediately occur to me I didn't need one b/c I already had an agent. And believe me, when that realization hit, it felt AWESOME.

I’ve gotten the impression from other writers in the blogosphere that being on submission is kind of like Fight Club. The first rule of Fight Club is: You do not talk about Fight Club. What can you say about your time on submission and how you coped for other writers going through the same process?

Being on submission had even greater ups and downs than querying. When an editor loved the book, but it got shot down in acquisitions, that hurt a million times more than an agent rejection because I was so, so close. Being on sub was exciting and terrifying, but also emotionally draining. I coped with everything first by working on something new and then inadvertently by getting pregnant lol. With my mind focused on a new world and new characters (and the impending baby), I had less time to worry about what was happening with the book on submission.

The Gates of Thread and Stone will be published by Skyscape (Amazon Children’s Publishing) in 2014, and it is the first book in a series. Tell us about the book.

Going with what was revealed in the deal announcement (since I don’t know how much more I can talk about yet), Gates is about a girl who stays carefully under the radar to keep her ability—to manipulate the threads of time—a secret. But when her brother disappears, she has to risk getting caught up in a revolution in order to save him.

What was your biggest challenge writing this book?

This particularly book came really easily to me, which is not typical. The world building was probably the biggest challenge because world building, in itself, is fairly intricate, but the plot and the characters were very clear in my mind.

What excites you most about this next stage of your career?

Reader feedback. Good or bad, I can't wait to hear what readers think. It's definitely scary, and I'll probably fumble through it all, but I'm looking forward to it.

Finally, what is the single best piece of writing advice you’ve received?

Work on your next book while you’re waiting for query responses. Write while you’re on submission. Write while you’re waiting for feedback from CPs or your agent or your editor. Having that shiny new idea to focus on really does make the waiting more bearable, and the bonus is if that ms doesn’t work out, you’ve got your next one ready to go.

Thanks so much Lori!

Be sure you check out her blog (http://lorimlee.blogspot.com/) and follow her on twitter (@lorimlee).

Lori’s always been an incredibly supportive writer, and I’m so happy she’ll be able to share her stories with the world!

Feedback, But When?

Feedback is an essential part of the creative process. Well, at least mine! How else will you know if your intentions match up with the reception of your work? Today, I’ll talk about the different stages of a project where it might be appropriate to solicit feedback.

In-Progress Feedback

In one of my writing groups, the work I share is almost always a work-in-progress. It’s literate, but it’s usually a snippet from a novel or a short story that still needs some fleshing out. In this case, I’m actively looking to my other group members for assistance in how to flesh the story out, what I’ve overlooked, and ultimately whether I’m on the right track or not. Just realize not every writing group is geared to workshopping this kind of early stage writing. 

Best critiquers at this stage: Critical thinkers, other writers.

Developmental Feedback

I’d call this feedback on anything that’s been drafted and fleshed out, but hasn’t fully cured in a version you are confident in submitting somewhere. In other words, you’ve gotten to the end, but the ride is still a bit bumpy (not in a good way). Here, I’m looking for macro-level adjustments (micro is good too) that I can make so the story can gel into a finalized draft. At this stage, I want people who understand the big picture but also the aspects of craft that will help me realize it all on the page. 

Best critiquers at this stage: Other writers, particularly those writing in your genre.

Polished Feedback

This is feedback on a polished draft that you think is the best it can be. You know, all those checklists when you’re trying to decide if you’re ready to submit or not? If your answer is yes, it’s still a good idea to get another person (or persons!) to take a look. You might burn a few weeks only to get your readers’ blessing to send it out, but it’s better to know you are sending out your best work than being surprised by some issue that was overlooked at other stages. And when you only have one shot with agents, you want everything to be as good as it can be. 

Best critiquers at this stage: Readers of your genre, other writers.

Public Reception

So let’s say your story/novel/what-have-you got published. Yay! At this stage, there’s still a couple metrics you can use to see how your work is received and ways to use its reception and apply it to your next story. Obviously things like sales figures are important. But so are reviews. I’m not talking about the reviews your mom/critique partner/best friend wrote. I’m talking about the reviews written by strangers who have no personal investment in you or your story.

Seth Godin says the worst feedback is indifference. Some stories and novels get published, and just as quickly vanish into the ether. Now some of this can be attributed to poor marketing and positioning, and sometimes a story just doesn’t have the impact it should. And sometimes, you are lucky enough to get reviews that help you to understand what worked and what didn’t in your story. Elizabeth Spann Craig talks about this in Handling Reviews from Mystery Writing is Murder. Give yourself time for the sting to wear off, but even bad reviews can be instructive (so long as it's not coming from someone with an ax to grind).

One of my published stories was not received in the manner I had hoped for, and I learned a lot from seeing those reviews of my work. It forced me to analyze my assumptions in writing that particular story as well as my assumptions in who the story's audience was, and so on. Despite the short-term disappointment in that story’s reception, that was a hugely valuable experience, and one that will shape my work to come.

***

So obviously, you need feedback, and at what point you solicit it and from whom will be dependent on your writerly network and your own needs and comfort level with the critique process.

Personally, I try to get feedback at each stage of a project, if possible. In my goal to write faster, I’ve found that In-Progress Feedback is extremely helpful for heading off mistakes in a story that would need significant retooling if they were found much later in the process. However, for that to be successful, I think you need to be:

1)     very used to critique and,

2)     very clear in your own head with what you’re trying to achieve with your work.

Especially because rogue comments can easily affect the trajectory of a story and your confidence in it at the early stage of a project. It should also be said that if you’re sharing early work, you are sharing it with writers who:

1)     you trust

2)     understand that it’s an early draft, and

3)     can provide constructive criticism (not all critiquers are alike in this)

Your mileage may vary, of course. But I’ve found this work for me.

Happy writing (and critiquing)!

Deliberate Choices -- Guest Post with L. Blankenship

Today, I'm pleased to host fantasy author L. Blankenship on the blog today. You may recall in my interview with her last fall, that she has two (!) successful Kickstarters under her belt, and Part II of her hard fantasy romance Disciple is now available. If you love adventure and romance in a fully textured world with realistic characters, look no further. And be sure check out below for links to a Goodreads giveaway!

Deliberate Choices by L. Blankenship
I did make some deliberate choices, in writing Disciple, about the kind of story I wanted to write. I'm of the opinion that plot, character, and world-building are tightly linked and should be allowed to grow organically -- but I did put a few restrictions on that growth.

Some look like simple things, like not wanting to use the tag "s/he thought" on a thought. Or "I thought," in my first-person narrator's case. It's just so clunkily obvious, or ought to be, that I committed to not using it at all.

Which sounds simple, but I found myself rewriting a lot of sentences before the habit settled in.

There was something deeper I wanted to do, in Disciple: I wanted a good, solid fight. It seems to me that many fantasy stories go to great lengths to stack the deck against the protagonists. They're poor, they're helpless, they're emotionally damaged, they're completely unprepared for the challenges they face. It's Bambi vs. Godzilla.

It's meant to ramp up the tension. It's meant to make the eventual success -- and whatever losses along the way -- all the more savory.

I wanted to see competent, well prepared protagonists go into a tough fight, take hard losses, get their asses kicked a couple times, and claw their way to winning. There seem to be plenty of stories about finding that Magic Thingy or tapping the Cosmic Can of Whup-ass to help Bambi beat Godzilla. Why write another one?

I wanted this to be a fair fight because evenly matched opponents make for an interesting game. I'm not much of a sports fan, but I know the Superbowl isn't much fun when one team dominates the other from the first kickoff. The games you stick around for are the ones that teeter back and forth to the final minutes.

So both sides of the war, in Disciple, came in with stacked decks. They'd made strategic choices, ahead of time, because war was inevitable and they'd be idiots to not prepare to the hilt. Both sides take risks. Both sides take losses. When I sat down to write Disciple, Part VI and finish the story, I wasn't sure exactly how the last few minutes of the Superbowl would play out. 

Which sure held my interest.

Back cover of Disciple, Part II

The prince first kissed Kate Carpenter for fear of missing the chance if they didn’t survive the journey home through the monster-prowled mountains.

Now that kiss seems like a fever dream. It’s back to work for her, back to the fellow physicians jealous of her talents and the sneers of an infirmary director who wants her shipped off to some tiny village. Kate means to be on the front lines to save lives. She’s worked too hard to overcome her past to let them deny her the chance to serve her homeland when the enemy’s army reaches their kingdom.

The grand jousting tournament is a chance to prove she can manage combat wounded, and at the royal Solstice banquet Kate means to prove she isn’t an ignorant peasant girl anymore.

But the prince’s kiss still haunts her. Their paths keep crossing, and the easy familiarity they earned on the journey home is a welcome escape from their duties. It’s a small slip from chatting to kisses.

This is no time to be distracted by romance -- a vast and powerful empire is coming to slaughter anyone standing between them and the kingdom’s magical fount.

Kate ought to break both their hearts, for duty’s sake.

Disciple, Part II on sale now

along with Disciple, Part I

at all major online retailers

More information, updates, and extras at Disciple of the Fount

Sample of Part I • Sample of Part II

Disciple, Part III coming in late 2013

Disciple is complete in six parts and will make a lovely doorstop

when all 400k words have been published.

Goodreads links:

Disciple, Part I • Disciple, Part II
And be sure to enter the Goodreads giveaway!

 

Rough Crit

Criticism is hard to take sometimes. But if you are actively seeking it out, there’s no better way to improve and hone your craft in my opinion. It means you take your work seriously and want to grow as a writer.

It also means you are guaranteed a rough crit session from time to time. So here are some tips for how to survive an in-person critique when it seems like your colleagues or fellow workshoppers are out to get you.

During the session:

1) Don’t get defensive

I repeat: Don’t get defensive. Getting defensive leads all too easily to getting angry, which can lead to things being said that cannot be unsaid.

If you find your hackles rising, find a way to channel that feeling into something productive. Me? I’m a notetaker. I write down all the bad things someone raises about my work during critique sessions. Even the things I don’t agree with. Something about the process of notetaking adds a crucial bit of separation between me and what’s being said, allowing me to compartmentalize the negative stuff and move on.

2) Don’t try to justify

We’ve all been in that situation where a writer says something like, “Well, what I was trying to do in that scene…” or “My intentions were…” et cetera. This often leads to a lengthy monologue where the writer explains why the story is the way it is, refuting every issue raised during the session along the way.

This is a waste of everyone’s time. If you try to justify what you wrote—preferring your words to a reader’s honest reactions—you’re basically saying your critiquers’ reactions to your story don’t matter. Which begs the question why you are soliciting critiques in the first place.

Note that this does not mean you can't ask someone for clarification about why they felt the way they did about your work. You can. But be wary if you find yourself protesting too much.

 

3) Don’t take your bad crit out on others

I’ve been in roundtable critique sessions where a writer responds to a harsh crit by being harsh in turn out of spite—not raising legitimate issues with the work under consideration. Don’t be that person.

If you can’t be civil in the aftermath of a rough crit, excuse yourself, take a time out, do whatever it is you need to do to find balance. It may not seem that way when your critiquers are tearing apart your work, but they are trying to help you. Don’t do something that will jeopardize their future good will.

 

After the session:

1) Give yourself some time

If you aren’t ready to dive into the negative feedback, that’s okay. Read a book, work on another project, do whatever it is you need to do to be in the proper headspace for processing feedback.

Taos Toolbox had a very large critique component. I deliberately refrained from looking at what my colleagues had to say about my work until I got home. Why? Because I knew if I looked at the written feedback it would distract me from my main goal of the workshop: making real connections with fellow writers. I didn’t want my interactions tainted by the critiques—that’s the one who got too heavy-handed with their line edits or that’s the one who hated my MC—instead of getting to know them on a more personal level. It also gave me time for their suggestions to sink in, and when I got home, I was more open to making changes.

 

2) Understand who is giving you feedback

In other words, not all critiquers are created equal. Just because someone writes a lot or well doesn’t mean they automatically give good feedback. Similarly, just because someone doesn’t have a lot of publishing credentials doesn’t mean they won’t have any insights into your work.

Some things to ask yourself when weighing feedback:

How much experience does this person have with critiquing?

Do they write in my genre?

Do I like their style/storytelling abilities?

Are they a writerly type to avoid? – Inexperience, ignorance, and ego can all be problematic

 

3) Understand what you are getting feedback on

You’d think this is a no-brainer, but you’d be surprised. Whatever you submit or send in, right? Here’s the thing. You know, consciously or unconsciously, what kinds of questions you have about your story. And whether you ask for specific feedback or not, the issues your critiquers raise can surprise you.

There’s nothing worse than expecting macro-level feedback and getting your story put through a line editing meat grinder. Or expecting help to polish a final draft, only to have your story premise dissected. That’s not to say those things can’t be helpful—usually they are. But if you aren’t expecting it, those kinds of crits can be devastating.

So double-check your critique expectations. If there’s a large deviation between the feedback you expected and what you actually got, ask yourself the following:

Did I specify my critique expectations? 

Sometimes it is as simple as saying your story is an early or a final draft—often that will cue the critiquer to respond accordingly. Other times, you may need a second opinion on a problematic element (say structure or characterization). You want to make sure you tell your critiquers that. It may not help—they could forget or get distracted by another aspect of your story, but at least you know you tried to get the right kind of feedback for your story.

Did I inadvertently trigger one of my critiquer’s hot-button issues? 

People will respond in unexpected ways to your work. If you hand an atheist a Christian romance, well, that could lead to a very interesting critique. People with different worldviews and life experiences are great to have in a writing group—but those very differences can lead to surprising results in practice as well.

It usually comes down to knowing the people you are exchanging work with. As someone who’s spent a lot of time reading and writing romance, I can be very critical of those scenes. One of my writing friends is an interior designer, and often her comments pick apart descriptions of interior spaces and architecture. Similarly, scientists get cranky when you fudge scientific details or resort to handwaving in speculative works.

So if a critiquer is overly sensitive to an aspect of your story, ask yourself why. Usually it is because they have firsthand knowledge or expertise on a particular subject. Instead of getting defensive, use their knowledge to strengthen your work.

***

I hope this post results in less stressful and more useful critique sessions. For more on this subject, check out 5 Ways to Get Good Revision Notes.

Happy writing!

How Do You Critique?

The last couple of weeks (and maybe into the next) I’ve been buried in critiques. Hence this slightly delayed post. I’m not complaining, mind you, but the volume recently—the result a confluence of chance—has forced me to evaluate my process in between all my edits, insertions, and comments.

Some observations:

I read everything. For me, critiquing is less about the genre or subject matter and more about supporting the writer behind the project.

I firmly believe there is a level of trust required for exchanging work. And that mutual respect means doing my best to evaluate the work I agree to critique, regardless of what it is, as I would hope others would do for me. It’s too early for me to be trapped in a particular genre, and I’m always eternally grateful that my CPs and trusted readers are usually game to crit whatever I send their way.

Part of this is because I’ve spent a lot of time in non-genre specific writing groups. In fact, one of the more successful groups I’ve been a part of has members writing in completely different genres—poetry, alt lit, women’s fiction, and then there’s me. All of us have good bs detectors and strong writing chops, which definitely helps. Plus having this exposure also keeps me from getting tunnel vision from the particular genre/style I’m writing in.

If a fellow writer thinks they’ll benefit from an honest reader reaction from me, I’m happy to support them. Karma is important, and I know I've benefited from the writer connections I've made. That’s not to say if they hand me a mystery I’ll be thrilled. But I’ll do my best to critique it, with the caveat that I’m not as well-versed in this genre as I am others.

I usually have to read a piece twice before I’m ready to critique.

This is time consuming, yes. That has become abundantly clear these last couple of weeks. BUT, it’s something I’ve made peace with. Mostly because my own standards of quality demand it.

Reading the piece the first time, I’m trying to get a general feel for the story, understand how all the different elements work as a whole. I might make some copy edits in the first round, but really I’m just reading for story.

This is a tremendous help when it comes time to offer my comments on the second pass. That’s when I decide what are real issues that need to be dealt with to support an author’s story intentions. I believe I have to understand the macro story elements into order to comment on the micro-level ones (outside of grammar).

My critique style has evolved as I’ve taken strides with my craft.

What this essentially means is that early on, I was overly focused with style and micro level issues. If someone wrote a line in a way I wouldn’t, I’d offer my suggestions for changing it. I was also overly concerned with "the rules" and more than happy to say "You're doing it wrong!" because the craft books said so. I won't say I was a Craft Nazi, one of the Writerly Types to Avoid, but it took time for me to digest all that advice so I could apply it in more constructive ways.

But after a number of critiques, after reading a variety of work, I’ve been exposed to a lot of different ways of doing things. And I've realized with all the do's and don'ts out there, all that matters is whether a particular technique is effective in a particular story context. That's it.

So I’ve adopted a more flexible live and let live policy. I’ll still point out awkward phrasings or unsuccessful techniques, but I’ve come to realize that just because someone doesn’t write something exactly the way I would doesn’t make it wrong. It just makes it different, and that’s ok. And that frees up more of my mental space for addressing more substantive story issues.

I rarely say no to requests to exchange work, but the time may be nigh to change that.

For so long, I was too scared to share my work. Then, when I got less scared, I had trouble finding people to share it with. I talked about this progression in my post The Critique Mindset a while back.

Over time, I’ve collected a formidable group of trusted writer friends: local writers, online writers, and my writer colleagues from Taos. For every person I can rely on for critiques, they must be able to rely on me. And as the last weeks have shown me, I’m near my limit, if I still want to be producing my own work at a pace that doesn’t make me cranky. (Hint, I'm cranky this week.)

So while I’m a huge proponent for exchanging work for critique, all things in moderation. And maybe it’s time to take my own advice.

***

Happy Nanoing for those participating! Happy writing for the rest of us! And only good thoughts for our friends on the east coast!

Feedback: It Gets Easier

This is a post I couldn’t write a few years ago. Back then, I had just started sharing my work with others. Although I desperately needed feedback, sometimes it hurt. Sometimes the criticisms made me doubt. And sometimes those criticisms made me change my stories, for better and worse.

But it doesn’t change the fact that feedback is a necessary evil in writing.

That first project? You know the one. The story that started them all, the one you’ll see through the bitter end, and the one you fear will end up in the bottom of the desk drawer. That one—your baby.

Feedback on that story is always the hardest. There’s no way around that, unless you have a Teflon-coated ego (and if you have one of those maybe you shouldn’t writing). You put so much of yourself into that first book, your dreams and hopes that you’ll buck the trend and get on the NY Times bestseller list. Any critical feedback will seem like an indictment against all that labor and love.

But if you’re writing for publication, you’ll get over that eventually. You’ll have to. Along with revising and revising some more until it’s time to start the feedback cycle all over again. It’ll go easier the second time around. After all, you already understand how it works. You have a stronger sense of your story’s strengths and weaknesses, and perhaps more importantly, you’ll understand yourself better. Which means knowing when you are overreacting to a piece of criticism and knowing which suggestions you need to consider and which ones you need to ignore. This is a huge milestone, but it takes practice with the feedback cycle, and sometimes a strong understanding of the people reading your work.

It takes time to do this. But it’s time well spent, because you need to get all this out of your system in order to start on the next project, regardless of whether your baby sells.

With the next project, you’ve told yourself you’re not going to make the same mistakes as the first. And you won’t—you’ll just make different ones. And then the feedback circuit will give you time to fix them.

It’ll be even easier this time. You know why? Because you don’t have nearly the same emotional investment in this project as you did in the one before. I’m not saying you don’t care about this project—you most certainly do. But now you know that this project isn’t the be-all and end-all of your writing career. You have other stories in you. This new story proves it.

So feedback this time may still sting, but you’ll be better able to compartmentalize it and use it to fuel positive changes in your work. And this is hugely valuable when you’re faced with tough revision decisions like restructuring your novel, adding or subtracting characters, or simply gutting the story and starting all over again.

The hard work that maybe you weren’t strong enough to even consider with your baby. But now, when the hunger for getting published—getting out there—when you have enough confidence in your craft that it’s just a matter of the right story hitting at the right time? Yeah, that. That’s when the tough decisions get made.

(and if this sounds like a pep talk, it kinda is for me)

The takeaway is this:

The more you write, the more mistakes you get to learn from.

The more mistakes you learn from, the more viable stories you create.

The more viable stories, the easier it is to deal with feedback.

Why? Because you can be more objective about your work. Because you no longer have the one story to care about, you have other projects now. All that emotion, good and bad, gets distributed across them. The successes and failures of individual projects gets muted, which makes it easier to make objective decisions how to manage them.

It’s a good thing, I think. It’s just important stay engaged, move forward, and above all, keep writing.

 

In my experience, my objectivity is reduced the longer I spend working on something. Tunnel vision is inevitable—that’s why it’s so important to take a break from your projects every now and then to gain perspective. It’s also why you need other readers.

But at the very least, if you keep writing, the less likely you’ll fall into the trap you did when writing your baby.

*Time spent working on a project could be equated to length of project as well. For example, negative criticism on my shorter pieces doesn’t nearly affect me as much as for my novel-length stories. But your mileage may vary. 

Managing Critique

I’m a firm believer in the benefits of critique—regardless of what shape they take.

Since getting serious about writing, I’ve experienced a wide range of critiquing styles and formats:

Reading Work Aloud – On one end of the spectrum, there’s things like open mic nights where tepid applause or catcalls tells you how well you did. I’ve done this once, and although I didn’t crash and burn, I don’t want to repeat the experience. On the other end, I’ve been in groups where you read a predetermined number of pages aloud and then discuss them. Great for problem scenes or seeing if your story or chapter opener hooks readers.

Exchanging Work – I’ve done where an agreed upon number of pages (up to 10 pages, up to 1 chapter, first 50 etc.) are exchanged in advanced and then discussed in small groups. Great for fostering local connections and looking at stories more in-depth. I’ve also exchanged full and partial manuscripts with critique partners and other trusted readers, marking up the text and making micro and macro level comments. It’s a lot of work but it allows you to evaluate a work as a whole, and as we all know, good readers are priceless.

Contests – There’s a wide variety of these for both short and long form work. Things like Miss Snark’s First Victim provide a forum for novel openers to see if readers are hooked. Query contests also abound on blogs. Plus there are a wide variety of contests sponsored through local and national writing organizations. Contests can provide you with feedback if you are in a place were you don’t have a trusted reader in your corner, but beware contest fees as not all contests are created equal.

Then there’s writing workshops like Taos Toolbox, where a lot of feedback comes your way all at once.

And that can be overwhelming. Strike that. It is overwhelming.

So how do you incorporate it all?

Well, when I have the opportunity to collect feedback from a variety of sources all at once, I like to focus on macro-level issues first.

These are general vibes my CPs and trusted readers get from my story or, in the case of the critiques from Taos, what stands out most in my mind as people went around the table and told me what was wrong with my stories.

Based on those things, I do a revision pass. That way I’m proactively working through what I perceive as problems with my story.

Only after I’ve done my initial revisions do I go back through the more detailed individual crits. That way I find I’m less reactive to individual comments that can often lead to changes in my story that serve the critiquer, not necessarily the manuscript as a whole.

Granted this process won’t work for every project, but I like to use this model whenever I can. Besides, by tackling the “big” issues first, because usually by the time you get to the smaller nits, many of them have already been fixed or eliminated.

There’s also some caveats to critiquing more generally.

As Kristine Kathryn Rusch pointed out in her post Perfection:

Critiquers get the manuscript for free and they’re asked to criticize it. Of course, they will find something wrong with it. In that circumstance, we all will.

So remember, just because someone says there is a problem with your story, figure out if it’s because they’ve been asked to find a problem or if there really is something wrong.

It’s also worth noting that not all critiquing advice is equal. Some people may not understand your vision for your story or be unable to divorce themselves from what they would do in your stead.

Fellow Toolboxer Catherine Scaff-Stump in Technique versus Vision explains:

If you ask me to give you feedback on a story, my job is to talk to you about your technique, but it is not to suggest you move in a different direction. I am not going to ask you to compromise your vision. You know what you want to do.

Worse, why would I pass judgment on your vision? I can say, "Your piece isn't very good." Unpacked, that should mean that you are vague, or your characters are underdeveloped. There should be things I can do to help you with technique. But I shouldn't be thinking that your piece isn't very good because I don't like it. Because it's not my thing. Because it's not my sub-genre. That's besides the point. I should be focusing on your technique, not telling you to like what I like.

Another great resource for figuring out how to incorporate feedback comes from How to Tackle Critique Notes from Writer Unboxed.

What other tips and tricks have you learned from your own critique experiences?

Happy writing!

Random Act Of Kindness BLITZ!

A smile. An encouraging word. A thoughtful gesture. Each day people interact with us, help, and make our day a bit brighter and full. This is especially true in the Writing Community. 

Take a second to think about writers you know, like the critique partner who works with you to improve your manuscript. The writing friend who listens, supports and keeps you strong when times are tough. The author who generously offers council, advice and inspiration when asked.

So many people take the time to make us feel special, don't they? They comment on our blogs, re-tweet our posts, chat with us on forums and wish us well on our writing journeys.

Kindness ROCKS! 
 
To commemorate the release of their book The Emotion Thesaurus, Becca and Angela at The Bookshelf Muse are hosting a TITANIC Random Act Of Kindness BLITZ. And because I think KINDNESS is contagious, I'm participating too!

I am picking L. Blankenship, who has provided me with invaluable feedback and insight into my short stories and novels. For my RAOK gift, I'm sending her an autographed copy of Jane Lindskold's Through Wolf's Eyes, since I know she is such a fan of hard fantasy! 

So be sure to check out L. Blankenship, who blogs at Notes from the Jovian Frontier on Tuesday and Thursdays as well as contributes to Science in my Fiction.

Do you know someone special that you'd like to randomly acknowledge? Don't be shy--come join us and celebrate! Send them an email, give them a shout out, or show your appreciation in another way. Kindness makes the world go round.

Becca and Angela have a special RAOK gift waiting for you as well, so hop on over to The Bookshelf Muse to pick it up.

Writerly Types to Avoid

We writers can be a persnickety bunch.

We can be very particular about where we write, how we write, what time of day we write etc. Idiosyncratic? Check. Introverted? Most likely. Let’s just say that our characters are usually more eloquent than we are. Put us in a group of other writers, and you never know what could happen.

In my search for local writing peers, I’ve found some wonderful people. I’ve also become acquainted with more than a few duds. Below are some general characteristics of writerly types to avoid and ways to deal if you find yourself stuck in a writing group with them.

The Fragile Newbie

This is a person incapable of seeing that criticism of their work is not an attack on their person. Usually, this is a sign of a writer who is not ready to share their work with others. They can get defensive, argumentative, or retaliate by being unnecessarily harsh on the work of those who critique them. Sometimes they may even burst into tears – very awkward when meeting in public places. In some cases, the Fragile Newbie may do none of these things, but retreat into themselves and never attend another meeting.

How to deal: Since these are writers relatively new to critique, it’s important to establish the group’s ground rules and expectations up front. Emphasize the need for constructive criticism and ensure you work with other members to create a supportive environment. It may take a few sessions for the Newbie to feel comfortable, but give it time. Everyone was a noob at one point, and you don’t want to be responsible for chasing someone off. That said, there are folks who just don’t thrive in a writing group environment. Then there are people who may never be able to handle criticism. In those cases, you may need to ask those people to leave. It may be awkward, but your group will thank you.

The Me-Me-Me Memoirist

Not all memoirists are evil, but there are a lot of people out there who reach a certain point and decide they’ve lived a life worth telling everyone about. Usually they’re wrong, and they waste valuable time in group sharing trite or pedestrian stories that have no literary value. Responses to criticism are invariably, “Well, this is how it happened” or “But it happened to me” and there’s no way you can argue with them that their story is too slow or confusing or whatever. Tears can also be an unfortunate side effect, especially for people using writing as therapy.

How to deal: If you’re in a group that allows for all kinds of writing, you're pretty much stuck. But you can suggest that if a memoirist is too close to their story, it may not be the right time for them to be seeking critique for that particular project. Sometimes memoirists join a writing group, not with the goal of publishing their life story, but sharing it with their grandkids or extended family. In this case, you need to decide if your group is geared towards “writing for fun” or “writing with the goal of publication” and choose members accordingly.

The Chronic Mess

Life happens, and it is impractical to expect every member of your group to always send in their work right when it’s due, to always be punctual at meetings, or to always read every manuscript ahead of time. No one is perfect. That said, there are those writers out there who consistently and chronically miss deadlines and shirk reading and critiquing other people’s work. They may have the best of intentions, they may be the nicest people on earth, but you cannot rely on them.

How to deal: This is really a question of how your group is structured. Do you have a group with a bunch of Type As and one Type B? Then this group may not be the best fit for your Chronic Mess member. Or is your group a bit more unstructured, allowing for lapses every now and again? Then you need to decide if the person just needs a gentle reminder to get their sh*t together or if there’s something more fundamental at work.

Remember, some members will get swamped occasionally, especially if jobs and families are in the equation. Sometimes spreading out meetings or voluntary breaks are the answer. Sometimes not. If your Chronic Mess sticks around, I suggest putting in only as much effort reviewing their work as they do for you. Hopefully they’ll get the message.

The Uber Critic

This is someone who almost never has anything good to say about anyone’s work. They have probably never heard about the criticism sandwich or if they have, they decline to use it because they think they are that bada$$. I’ve personally dealt with two types of these: the Craft Junkie and the Genre Nazi. The Craft Junkie is someone who can’t tolerate work that is at all experimental or uses techniques that aren’t covered in a chapter of a craft book somewhere. The Genre Nazi is someone who has read every book under the sun in your particular area and feels like they are entitled to take you to task for how well you adhere to genre conventions. They also say things like “Well, so-and-so already did [subject] so why are you bothering with this?”

How to deal: You smile, nod, and move on. But you should also try to look past how the criticism is delivered to see if there’s anything of value buried under the bluster. Maybe you do need to tighten up your POV or reconsider the way you handled x in your manuscript. Maybe you should factor in books dealing with your subject matter, and remind yourself that not all genre conventions should be broken. The Uber Critic can be harsh, yes, but better you hear it now then when you book is sent into the cruel real world.

The Micro Editor

Otherwise known as a Grammar Nazi, this is someone, usually with a background in journalism or technical writing, who cannot get past the minutiae of dangling participles and who/whom and various forms of comma abuse. Your work comes back to you bleeding from all the grammar gaffes they’ve uncovered, but there’s virtually no commentary on your story’s mechanics. They say things like “I just couldn’t get past all the mistakes” when pressed to comment on your work.

How to deal: Your goal should always be to send in your best work. But not all of us have perfect grammar, mistakes will be made yada yada. If you know your work is rough, say so when sharing it with the group, specifying the high-level comments you’re interested in getting back. If you meet in person, try to keep commentary on the story itself, not copyedits. I was in a meeting once where an ex-journalist wanted to go through someone’s story line-by-line. Not an effective use of group time.

The Monopolizer

This is the person who takes takes takes in group. Getting feedback on their work is the Monopolizer’s only concern, no matter who’s turn it is. They say things like, “This reminds me of a story I wrote where…” or capitalize on any lull in the conversation to bring it back to their work. Ugg. I’ve seen this in newer writers who still haven’t realized how generous you have to be to take the time to critique other people’s work. I’ve also seen other writers so full of themselves that they think they are the best and therefore deserve to command the group’s attention at all times.

How to deal: Personally, I’d say you need to avoid the Monopolizer at all costs. Writing is hard enough without having to deal with egos or someone who can’t play nice in a group. But if that’s not possible, set boundaries. Limit the time spent on each piece in meetings, keep extraneous conversation to a minimum. Find someone in the group willing to keep the conversation moving and cut off talk that’s not productive.

Talks-the-Loudest, -Longest

This is someone who maybe can’t always handle criticism or gets defensive when the spotlight is on their work. They aren’t used to being wrong, and therefore spend a lot of time justifying their work or explaining the choices they made. I think they just like to hear themselves talk. I’ve encountered this in primarily older males (sorry guys) with backgrounds in business or law, where talking a lot is apparently how you succeed. Often exhibits traits of the Monopolizer as well.

How to deal: This is tough depending on how much personal courtesy you are willing to extend, what other group dynamics are at play. If someone is constantly defending their creative choices, maybe move to the Milford model of criticism where the writer must remain silent as the others comment on their work. Or, as with the Monopolizer, get in the habit of limiting extraneous talk.

Horace Slughorn

For the Potterheads out there, this person needs no introduction, but for the rest of you, a Horace Slughorn is someone who collects (younger) writing group members, ostensibly to share their greater wisdom with the group, but really the arrangement is to make them feel better about themselves. Think Twisted Mentor. Slughorns may actually have talent and/or wisdom but they take over a group instead of just participate in them. And they play favorites.

How to deal: Do you want a mentor who could help you get better, but is more interested in feeling needed by you? My advice is to run away. If that’s not possible, get what you can out of the arrangement, but do not feed the Slughorn’s ego if at all possible. Publishing is changing every day, and the “wisdom” that they’re peddling may already be out of date.

Literary Snobs and Genre Addicts

Two sides of the same coin. The folks who turn their nose up at anything that’s not literary, and those who won’t read anything that doesn’t come in a mass market paperback. And they use it as an excuse when critiquing. “Well, I only write genre fiction so I can’t really comment on literary stuff” or “How dare you pollute my mind with this drivel—I only read the classics” and so on. These people are so small minded they forget that story and character are the foundation of any work, regardless of trappings.

How to deal: Decide if you want people skewed to more genre or literary writing. If you have both, make sure everyone understands what that means in terms of critiquing. Pissing matches as to which is better do you no good. If members cannot keep an open mind when critiquing, they’ll need to take it somewhere else.

The Cheerleader

Writing is tough, so it’s always nice to know when aspects of your story are appreciated by others. Right? Well, yes. But what if someone only said nice things about everything you wrote? Either you have someone who cannot be impartial in critiquing your work or it’s someone who is unwilling to be honest with you. In the first case, maybe they really do like your work. Or maybe your skill (despite any flaws) far outpaces their abilities, and they can’t help but be complimentary. In the second case, the writer is not confident in their own writing ability and is therefore unwilling to be overly critical of others.


How to deal: A lot of this depends on what your current critique needs are. Are you interested in having a safe, supportive environment for sharing your work? Are you relatively new to critique and are trying to ease into it? The Cheerleader can be a good person to have on your side. However, at some point, you are going to need brutal honesty in order to revise your work to get it up to publishing standards. Then you will either need to find a new group or keep the Cheerleader on the back burner for when you need a pick-me-up.

The Ignorant Puppy

In my post The Critique Mindset last fall, I talked about the different phases we writers go through when finally taking that step and deciding it’s time to exchange your work with writing peers. There’s excitement, terror, over-compensation as we step out of our writing caves and interact with others. We can be all over the place in terms of enthusiasm and rigor and sometimes make mistakes in our zeal as we flail about. That’s the Ignorant Puppy – a person with lots of excitement to be in a critique group, but all that undirected energy can lead to social gaffes and ridiculous statements the writer says out of ignorance or to show they are at the same level as the other writers. Usually a sign of immaturity or insecurity.

How to deal: We were all here at one point in our writing journey, desperate for attention and unsure how to go about getting it. And all that annoying behavior is because they are so excited to be sharing their work with you. You don’t kick puppies, you take them firmly by the leash and lead by example. Over time, they’ll get it. If not, you probably have another writerly type on your hands.

***

Have you ever encountered writers like this in your writing group? How did you manage them?

We all have to sacrifice a lot to take the time to write, so it follows that you share your work with people who respect that sacrifice. The worst is when you feel like you have no alternative than to be in a group with the folks listed above. But there are always other opportunities – you just need to be strong enough to seek them out and selfish enough not to settle for a less-than-ideal situation.

And remember, personal attacks or plagiarism are never ok.

Happy writing.