KayeDacus.com

It’s no secret—I’m currently working on the second draft of Ransome’s Honor. There are three major issues that needed to be addressed: POV characters (as in, how many and when they’re introduced), better development of the romance between William and Julia, and word count.

In reading my crit partners’ wonderful comments on the last round of chapters (still early chapters), I realized—my second draft will not be a final manuscript. Because I need to focus so much on the structure of introducing one POV character ten chapters earlier, making another POV character into a secondary character in this one (and changing her relationship to two of the remaining POV characters), cutting one event at which a few important things happened/were said, etc., I’ve come to the decision that I can’t worry about word count right now—especially since I’m still writing new scenes to weave the story and characters together better.

This is also the first time I’ve had it critiqued. In the earliest version of the story (when I thought it was going to be a single novel), I did have a few chapters critiqued by school crit partners. But since I moved away from that direction, I wrote the entire thing without submitting it to anyone for review (though many did read it as I wrote it). Starting the second draft, I went through several versions of the first three chapters, writing a couple of new scenes, and then moving things around until characters were introduced in a way that really worked. In doing this, though, I’ve managed to add almost a full chapter—I’m pulling in elements from the old chapter eight into the new chapter nine. Granted, I know I’m getting rid of an event, so that will cut down on word count some, but I think one of the reasons I’ve been having so much trouble gearing up to work on revisions is because I knew I was failing in one of the areas I was supposed to be working on.

Finally, last night, I got it. I can’t worry about word count on this round. I have to focus on structure and story. I have to make sure that the right scenes are in the right place, told from the right POV, and I have to make sure that the romance storyline works and resonates with readers.

So, I’ve asked my critique partners to get out their highlighters—well, to use the highlight feature in Word when they crit my chapters going forward. I’ve asked them to highlight words/phrases/backstory, etc., that they feel can be eliminated to tighten the narrative without losing the tone or any information that is important for setting up what comes in books two and three. That way, when I finish the second draft, I’ll have a much easier time focusing on what needs to be done in the third draft: tightening, polishing, finalizing.

What about you? How many drafts do you need before you feel like you’ve arrived at a “polished” stage? (Notice, I didn’t say “final”—are they ever “final”?)

Or, Now I’ve received my critiques, what do I do with them?

Having been told by my high school Creative Writing teacher that my cute, sweet, romantic short story was well written and worth an A+ grade, I slightly revised it and turned it in as my first assignment in my first college Creative Writing class, Writing the Short Story. When it came time for my story to be workshopped in class, it was torn to shreds. I was devastated. What I didn’t know then that I understand now is the cut-throat nature of many Creative Writing programs in large universities. It’s every student for him-/herself, and must do whatever possible to impress the professor. The novel writing class didn’t go any better (professor hated historical romances, which is what I was writing at the time). Sure, when I now look at the work I turned in for those writing assignments, I cringe at the quality of the writing. But it was their job to teach me how to become a better writer, not to crush my spirit. This extreme disillusionment, along with other factors, led me to drop out of college—the first person in three generations of my family not to finish.

When I returned to college seven years later, I had a wonderful experience with the Creative Writing courses I took, because I had a very supportive professor who believed in my skills. Not being a fiction writer herself, there wasn’t much guidance she could give me on improving my craft—but that wasn’t important. She rebuilt my confidence with her continual encouragement. Because of Dr. Stevens, I gained enough courage to go to my first professional writing conference—and my whole world changed.

Entering my first writing contest was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done. It was only a few months before that deadline that I’d ever let anyone (my mom and grandmother) read anything I’d written, and here I was going to let total strangers read it. I’d only been learning craft for about a year. And when I got my feedback . . . All I can say is that the judges for that first ACRW Noble Theme contest were some of the most wonderful, positive, encouraging people who’ve ever judged a writing contest.

While the feedback I got the first time in college made me withdraw, made me keep my writing to myself, the feedback I got from that encouraging professor and the judges of that first contest made me want to go back, to put their advice into action, to make myself a better writer, to put out quality work.

I had a choice . . . I was already writing another manuscript by the time I received the contest feedback. Having taken a seminar at that first conference in which T. Davis Bunn preached the importance (for beginning writers) to write our stories from beginning to end without stopping to go back and revise—and to work on only one project at a time—I decided not to make any revisions of that original manuscript. But I did read and reread those comments and figured out how to apply them to the story I was then writing.

In this post, you can read about my first experience with a crit group—how I struggled to move forward and rewrote the first ten chapters three times before forced by grad school deadlines to make forward progress with the story and finish it.

In Critiquing Step 4: Putting the Crits to Work, I wrote that there are two approaches to using critiques: go back and fix everything or forge ahead. Or, in other words, REVISE or READJUST.

Once you have REVIEWED the feedback on your writing, you have two choices of what to do with it (well, three, really, but completely rejecting it is not something I recommend):

REVISE. If you are an outliner, if you know your story backward and forward before you even start writing it, if you can go back and make revisions to earlier chapters without losing your forward momentum, then you can do this. When you get your feedback, you can stop what you’re doing and go back in and make the revisions without taking the risk that you’ll completely alter your story. Because you know your story so well, you’ll know which critique comments to implement and which to lay aside because they don’t fit in with the direction of your story (remember—critiques are more than just finding grammatical/spelling errors; you may receive comments on characters, setting, point of view, and plot).

READJUST. If you’re like me, you have a general idea of where your story is headed when you start writing, but half the fun of writing is discovering what’s going to happen as it comes out on the page in front of you. The danger for us with critiques is wanting to go back and revise and then completely changing the structure, characters, or plot and being back at square one. I’ve fallen into this trap. It’s so easy to get new ideas of what I could do with the story when I receive the crits that the temptation is there to go back and completely rewrite the portion of my first draft that’s already written. I’ve learned that while it’s important to read and understand the comments, I need to apply them to what I have not yet written and hold off revising what I’ve already written until the entire first draft is finished. I do this even with my own changes that crop up halfway through the story. I write down the idea/needed change, save the document in the file along with my chapter files, and continue writing forward—and I’ll also make a note at the top of the next submission I send to my crit partners informing them of the change that I’ve made.

How do you implement the feedback you receive on your writing? Do you revise or readjust?

And what are your questions about/problems with moving BEYOND THE FIRST DRAFT? Let’s get some discussion going so that we can all learn from each other!

For a more comprehensive discussion of critiquing—from how-to, to working with crit partners—go to the Fiction Writing Series page and scroll down to Critiquing.

I always hated math classes. I was good at math—great at math. But I hated sitting there for an hour (or longer) listening to someone drone on about the concepts. Aside from Geometry in 9th grade (where I finished the year with a 108% A grade—you know, all that visually oriented stuff), the only time I ever really enjoyed using “higher” math (consciously—I know I use it subconsciously every day) was when I took Astronomy and the accompanying labs in college. It was taking all of the concepts of algebra, geometry, and trigonometry I’d memorized over the past five or six years and applying it to stuff that actually had applications in the real world—figuring out distances from the earth to other planets and stars, planet sizes, the angle of the earth to the sun by measuring the shadow of a flag pole at different times during the day/semester, and so on. Math stopped being “conceptual” and became “concrete.”

Critiquing makes everything we’ve ever heard about what “good writing” is concrete instead of conceptual.

Becoming a good critiquer is part and parcel with becoming a good writer. Until you learn how to critique others’ writing, you’ll never be able to look at your own objectively. I have learned more about the craft of writing through the critiquing/mentoring process than I did in all of the seminars I took in two years of graduate school in a genre fiction writing program. That’s not to say I didn’t learn stuff from the seminars—just that to me, it was like sitting in those math classes . . . just memorizing concepts. What I learned through the process of critiquing others and understanding and internalizing the critiques given to me on my own writing made it all concrete.

So here’s the down-and-dirty recap of the Critiquing series:

Critiquing Step 1: Becoming a Pot-Bellied Pig
1. Be tough but sensitive. Be tough-skinned enough that you don’t take critiques personally, but sensitive enough to take in the comments so you can improve your writing.

2. Be a good listener. Whether literally (in face-to-face situations) or figuratively (written critiques), listen first. Do not respond until you have heard/read everything the critiquer has to say. It’s so easy to become defensive, whether it’s the first or the hundredth time we’ve gotten feedback on our writing. No, not all advice/comments will be valid or applicable. But if you shut down at the first comment you don’t agree with, you might not find the pearl of wisdom that will mean the difference between a rejection and a request for a full.

3. Be loyal to your “herd.” Your critique group is your herd. You have a role to perform within the group as well as outside of it. Don’t betray confidences, do give support and encouragement. Let your “herd” help you figure out what your strengths and weaknesses are so you can work on them.

4. Be an individual. You cannot be so bound by the critiques you receive that you alter your voice, style, or story to fit what someone else thinks is best. You must remain true to your inner voice and to your story.

Critiquing Step 2: Be a Reader First, Writer Second
The First Read-Through: When you sit down to read the latest novel from your favorite published author, do you do it with red pen in hand just waiting to start marking up the pages? Of course not. The first time you sit down with your crit partners’ work, do so as if you were reading a published novel. Just read it. Keep a pen and notepad nearby to make notes of things to comment on later, but not on the first read-through.

The Second Read-Through: Now is your chance to put everything you know about writing into practice. With your notes from the first reading at hand, read through the manuscript again, this time, marking/commenting on the details. (See the original post for a list of things to read for.)

Critiquing Step 3: Remember the Golden Rule
You’ve completed the two read-throughs and you have your rough notes. Great. Now, set it aside for at least one day, a couple of days if possible. Then, come back to your notes with fresh eyes. As you read each criticism, try to word it in your mind to make it as positive as possible—word it the way you would want to read it if someone were writing the comment about your writing. In other words, “critique others as you would wish to be critiqued yourself.”

Critiquing Step 4: Putting the Crits to Work
You must carefully consider each comment before deciding whether to implement it or not. If you can (if it’s not feedback from a contest or the like where you cannot contact the critiquer), ask clarifying questions. If you find yourself getting bogged down in the critique comments and losing heart, step back and consider the bigger picture. And set specific goals of what you are trying to achieve.

Now that we’ve looked at the critiquing process, we’ll start breaking this down into how to take what you’re given as feedback/critiques and apply it to your writing—either as you write your first draft or as you move into the revision stage after your first draft is finished.

Don’t forget, there’s a $5 Barnes & Noble (or Borders, if the winner prefers) gift certificate up for grabs to whoever comes up with a name for the new series . . . but I’ll need to choose by 10:00 a.m. Central Time, Wednesday, August 1—so get your suggestions in!

It is rare in a writer’s life to find people who truly “get” us. Non-writers just don’t understand the urgent need that overwhelms us, when at a restaurant, to suddenly whip out a pen and begin frantically scribbling on a napkin (hopefully paper). We haunt bookstores like artists haunt galleries and musicians frequent the eclectic music store on the corner. And heaven help our non-writing friends or family when we are out and happen to come across another writer.

But even within the community of writers, we don’t always “get” one another. There are plenty of authors I love to death, personally, but I just can’t get into their stories. Or some whose writing I adore, but I’ve reconciled myself to the fact we’ll never be friends.

Which is why when we do find those writers who fit both sides, we are blessed.

I have worked with quite a few critique partners over the years. My first experience was in 2003 when I met two wonderful women at the ACRW conference in Houston. I had just started writing Happy Endings Inc., my fourth manuscript. The three of us decided to try out being critique partners—and it was wonderful. We each wrote different genres (romance, romantic suspense, and women’s fiction), and that helped us be able to spot things in each other’s work someone writing the same genre might have missed. Once I started grad school, though, and had the work of fellow students to critique, I had to resign from that first crit group.

In the four writing terms of grad school, I worked with eight different people in addition to two faculty mentors. The classes I took those two years were wonderful and taught me about craft, but it was through the critiquing process my writing really improved.

When I finished, I contacted my pre-school crit partners, but things just didn’t fall into place the way they had before. It just wasn’t right this time. So I prayed about it, asking God to lead me to the right critique group.

Then, through the ACFW forums and discovering each other’s blogs, I met two sisters-of-the-soul. Once we got to know each other and figured out we liked what we’d seen of each other’s writing ability through our blogs, we agreed to try critiquing.

Let me tell you, these women have blown me away, not only by their writing skills and wonderful stories, but by their thoughtful and knowledgeable comments. In Friends for the Journey, Luci Shaw quotes a journal entry where she recounts an idea that came to her while polishing Madeleine L’Engle’s silver candlesticks:

Suddenly I realize I’m dealing with more than “just” candlesticks; I’m coming to think of it as “polishing Madeleine.” Then I notice something I’ve missed before, her name . . . inscribed, faint but dark on two of the four . . . and the idea of the polishing of a friend and a friendship, turns even truer. It’s a variation on the theme of the biblical proverb: “As iron sharpens iron, so the heart of friend with friend.”

Though we may need a kind of corrective sharpening from each other from time to time, polishing is a gentler art. As writers, critics, editors, wordsmiths, we polish each other’s phrases and ideas . . .our roles of writer and editor reverse—often easily, effortlessly. And we continue to luster each other to a shine . . . we have polished each other like silver, with soft cloths, with loving attention.

Erica, Georgiana, and I have only bee critiquing each other’s work for about a month. With most critique groups, that’s not long enough to get beyond the walking-on-eggshells stage. But with this group, it feels like we’ve been together for years. We snark, express our emotional reactions to the scenes, mark where we have questions, or make suggestions where we find something that just doesn’t work.

So today, I just wanted to take the time to publicly thank God for my two fellow silver polishers, Georgiana Daniels and Erica Vetsch. Get to know their names, because you’ll be buying their books one of these days!

Maybe the question of why to get into a critique group should have been the first question I tackled, but is, nevertheless, an important part of this discussion.Before I ever got hooked up with my first two critique partners, I was scared of the prospect of letting someone else read my writing and point out all of my mistakes. I wouldn’t even let my grandmother or mother mark grammatical corrections when I first started letting them read my stuff.

Then I entered my first writing contest.

Well, let me go a little further back. As I’ve mentioned many times, I attended my first writing conference in 2001, the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference at Ridgecrest, an early 30th birthday present to me from my parents. The fact that I was excited to go spend four or five days surrounded by strangers, not to mention sleeping in a hard bed away from home, told me this was going to be an important milestone in my life. And it was. It was the first time I’d ever heard about contests for unpublished authors or “critique partners.” It was also the first time that I sat down and read aloud my writing to people I barely knew and received some feedback from others who knew what they were talking about. They’re also the ones who encouraged me to join what was then known as American Christian Romance Writers (which grew to encompass all fiction genres in 2004 as American Christian Fiction Writers).

When ACRW announced the first annual conference would take place in October 2002, and along with it a contest for unpublished authors, I was excited about the conference—to meet face-to-face all the ladies I was getting to know through e-mail—but didn’t give the contest a second thought. I’d started working on what would be my first completed manuscript, What Matters Most, but had barely worked up the nerve to print the first half of it to give to my mom and grandmother for Christmas. As the deadline grew closer, I couldn’t get the contest out of my mind. Finally, on the day which the package had to be postmarked, I made the decision to enter the ACRW Noble Theme contest. (Thank goodness for a 24-hour post office!) I expected to feel sick when I handed “my baby” over to the postal worker. But instead, I was elated. And I turned out to be an honorable mention finalist, too!

In 2003, I entered the first chapters of The Best Laid Plans, which I’d finished shortly after the 2002 conference, and Love Remains my work in progress at that time. Neither finaled, and I got some pretty strong critical feedback on them—and I realized that, after the initial shock and feeling of despair wore off, I needed to find some critique partners if I ever wanted to improve my writing. By the time I arrived at the 2003 ACRW conference in Houston, I had already started working on Happy Endings, Inc., and God blessed me by putting me together with two of the most wonderful women I’ve ever had the honor to know, Marci Burke and Cindy Woodsmall. Although we had each considered signing up to be put in an “official” ACRW critique group, the three of us decided to form our own. What followed was a year of discovery, of learning, of growing as writers. (Cindy’s first book comes out TOMORROW! Please buy it: When the Heart Cries.)

Not only did my writing improve by leaps and bounds as I worked with Cindy and Marci, but I learned several important lessons.

Critiquing helps us look at our own writing with objectivity. By objectively critiquing someone else’s work, we learn how to look at our own work through the eyes of a critiquer, and not as a “Mama” or “Papa” so proud of our “baby.” Then, once we get into the revision process, we are able to make changes or cuts without feeling like we’re cutting off an arm. The revision process can be looked at more like getting a manicure, pedicure, and haircut—yes, we’re losing bits and pieces of ourselves, but will look and feel so much the better for it afterward. Then, once the manuscript is sold, it will make working with an editor that much easier—we already know how to receive criticism of our work, as well as make revisions to it.

Critiquing clarifies our writing. By receiving feedback from multiple critiquers, we learn whether or not we are communicating our story the way we want to. If my critique partners just don’t get a passage I’ve written set aboard ship where my characters are using language appropriate for the setting and time period, although I love it because I know it’s authentic for the way they would have talked because of the research I’ve painstakingly done, it doesn’t enhance my story—in fact, it detracts from it. That doesn’t mean I need to get rid of the colorful, period-appropriate terminology, it just means I need to delve deeper in the narrative surrounding the dialogue to show actions that will explain through context what they’re talking about. It makes my story more enjoyable for my readers and enhances my skills as a writer.

Critiquing makes us better writers. In the last three years, I have worked with ten different critique partners (mostly because of having different partners each semester at grad school), each with different skill levels and talents for writing from my own. Marci helped me bring out the personalities of my characters. Cindy helped me with developing scenes that would reveal the characters without taking away from the plot. Kim helped bring out the humor. Penny made me see how to bring out the underlying tension and sensuality. Melissa helped me see how to keep my writing historically authentic while also writing it so a modern reader with no background in the era could understand and enjoy it. In critiquing their works, I’ve learned deep POV, showing rather than telling, mounting tension, plot movement, amping up the suspense, and much more, by researching these subjects so I could give constructive feedback.

Writing is a constant act of making choices. And as our creativity leads us down certain paths, having a voice of reason, someone to question our choices, or to cheer us along the way and make us stronger is one of the most important tools a writer can acquire.

Okay, you’ve completed the critiques for your partners and they have done the same for you. So what now?Before you can decide how you’re going to put the information to use, you need to know if you should put the information to use.

Now that your crit partners have given you their honest (and hopefully encouraging and constructive) comments, you must carefully consider each comment before deciding whether to implement it or not. If you are getting conflicting messages from your partners, you have a couple of options. If it’s a technical issue (grammar, POV, word choice), you can research it for yourself and go with what you think best serves your story. If it’s a matter of personal choice/opinion, weigh your partners’ comments with your own insights into your story (after all, you know your story better than they do) and then make the choice, again, based on what best serves your story. As I’ve said before, it is first and foremost your story. I would suggest, though, that if you make a decision to go against your critique partners’ advice, you advise them of this choice—thanking them for taking the time to point it out—and explain why you’ve decided to continue with it the way it is. (e.g., Thank you so much for pointing out areas where I’m dumping a lot of information and “telling” about my characters or the history of the era. As this is my first draft and I’m just trying to get everything in, it’ll probably happen again as that’s just the way I draft, so if you’ll just mark anywhere you see one with INFO DUMP, I’ll be able to catch them in the revision process.) That way, they know you saw and understood their comments and won’t get frustrated or offended when they see it hasn’t been changed, and you won’t have to read the same comments every time.

If you don’t understand a comment—or the point the critiquer was trying to make with it—ask clarifying questions. If you have gotten hooked up with the right critique partners, they won’t have a problem with your asking for clarity on their comments—and you might even get more feedback or ideas than they originally gave as you dialogue about the issue. Just keep in mind: don’t be defensive or make assumptions about what the person was saying nor a perceived intent.

This is the point in the process where we can start second-guessing ourselves, our talent, our story, our characters, and our “calling” as writers. If you find yourself getting bogged down in the critique comments and losing heart step back and consider the bigger picture. If it seems like your critique partner is nit-picking every little thing—from commas to overused words to your setting to your characters, go back to the list of overview questions I gave in Step 2. Look mainly at the comments that address those First Read-Through questions. You may find that your critiquer got nit-picky on trifling little things (some that may just be a matter of personal taste or preference) because they really didn’t have much else to say about your piece.

Unfortunately, the critiques we receive won’t always be helpful. I’ve found this most often when first getting started with critique partners or being critiqued by people who’ve never read my writing (or even my genre) in workshops. Once you get hooked up with a critique group, set specific goals of what you are trying to achieve and ask your partners to help you by looking for whether or not you are achieving those goals. (Refer back to Step 1, point 3 for some examples.) The longer you write, the more you learn, and the longer you work with your critique partners, you will learn what you each need looked at in your writing—and your goals will change as your skill level increases.

HOW TO USE YOUR CRITIQUES
This is the step that depends greatly on what kind of writer you are, so you may have to go through some trial and error before figuring out what method works best for you. But let’s look at how to use the critiques you have now received. From personal experience and through talking to others about it, I’ve boiled it down to two basic practices:

Stop, Revise, Continue
For some writers—and I would imagine these are the writers who have their entire novel outlined and plotted before they start writing—when they receive a critique, they stop writing anything new until they have implemented all of the revisions they deem necessary from the critiques. This process of revision on a work in progress doesn’t impede their forward progress, they are able to revise and then pick up right where they were and continue writing—while also implementing anything they learned/changed from the critiques/revisions. They don’t get mired down in the changes and start changing other stuff—like plotlines or characters!

My personal experience with the critiquing process is that this doesn’t work for me (but I would love to hear from those of you who can do this!). As a seat-of-the-pants writer, I always have a general idea of where my story is going, but many things can change along the way. In my first critiquing experience, I submitted the first ten chapters of Happy Endings to my ACFW critique partners. As they sent back their critiques, I started revising those chapters, and the story began to change. I sent those revised chapters back to them and they had even more feedback and suggestions. I revised the chapters again and this time submitted them to my SHU critique partners. By that time, though, I knew I had only a limited amount of time to get the entire story written, so I couldn’t go back and revise. That’s when I really figured out this method isn’t best for me.

Glean and Go
I learned that what works best for me as an SOTP writer is to “glean and go.” In other words, I read the critiques I’m given, save them for future reference, but continue writing new material rather than going back for revisions. I take into consideration all of the comments, from what isn’t working with the characters to the use of too much technical language (e.g., too many 19th century ship/Navy terms that aren’t explained in the context of the scene). I have had crit partners give me suggestions of scenes that might work better than what I have. There are occasions when these suggestions are given that it is so much better than what I have written—and I have an immediate and clear picture of it in my head—that I do go ahead and write it, which is how I end up with files named 04.doc followed by 04a.doc or 04addendum.doc. But, rather than trying to revise the original chapter and work the scene in and revise everything after it, I leave it for the revision process and go back to the forward progress—but now I’ve “seen” this new scene and can include any consequences, memories, or repercussions into the later part of the story.

Then, once I have a complete first draft, and after I’ve set it aside for several weeks, I open up my draft file along with the critiqued chapters (which is why I keep each chapter in a separate file), as well as any e-mails where we’ve discussed their comments, and start revising.

Again—I can only speak to what I’ve tried and what I’ve found works for me. I’d love to hear back from you on how you’ve discovered the critiquing process best works for you!

I occasionally watch the “reality” TV series Super Nanny on ABC, where this British lady goes into people’s homes and teaches them how to discipline their unruly children. The children range from just somewhat boisterous and disobedient to down right mean and angry—I even saw an episode this weekend where the little girl was so full of rage that she started hitting, biting, and slapping Nanny Jo. After witnessing what complete heathens the children are, she sits down with the parents for the “parents meeting,” which is basically a critique session. As a viewer, I cannot wait to hear what she has to say about the little beasts, yet I feel for the parents, too, who are already on guard because they feel like they’re going to be berated for being bad parents.

Instead of just lambasting them, Nanny Jo always starts out the same way: “You have three beautiful, active little girls.” “You have two wonderfully creative and smart little boys.” Only after complimenting the parents on the positives she’s seen (which usually isn’t much), she then starts the critique. “The children follow you around all day, scream, yell, kick, bite, trying to get your attention because they’re bored. There is no structure . . .” (After a while of watching this show, I usually have a pretty good idea of what’s “wrong” in the household that Nanny Jo is going to try to fix, and discipline and structure are usually two of the major areas). Now, she could just come in and tell the parents what they’re doing wrong—but would that help them improve their parenting skills? No. That’s why she works with them for several days, teaching them through action and explanation how to overcome the problems she’s pointed out. She then goes away for a few days, and the cameras stay behind to record how the parents do at implementing the new skills. They usually don’t do well, and she returns for a few more days, reinforcing the techniques until they can do them with confidence.

The main reason I like watching this show is because it’s the critiquing process in action: objective observation without interference (the first read-through), the analysis of areas for improvement (the second-read through), the parents’ meeting and training (giving the critique), and the second visit for reinforcement (positive reinforcement and continuing the critiquing process).

One of Nanny Jo’s tenets is Positive Reinforcement—giving the children lots of praise when they do what they should, and making sure that hugs and kisses are given after a punishment (the naughty chair or reflection room) is completed. I’ve never tried to raise children, but I have trained dogs and seen how far they will go for a treat or a word of praise or pat on the head. And just like them, people respond to praise much better than criticism—and this doesn’t go away as we get older . . . in fact, I think we respond to it even more strongly as adults because we receive it less often the older we get. (When is the last time you got a “Good job!” for doing the dishes or mowing the lawn?)

You’ve completed the two read-throughs and you have your rough notes. Great. Now, set it aside for at least one day, a couple of days if possible. Then, come back to your notes with fresh eyes. As you read each criticism, try to word it in your mind to make it as positive as possible. Here is an example:

Note: The opening is too slow, too much telling, not much showing, too much backstory. The action doesn’t start until page 10.

Critique: You have a great idea for a story. I really like what I’ve seen of the characters so far, but would love to see them in a more active scene right off the top. In Stein on Writing, Sol Stein writes: “Fiction should seem to be happening now.” And also: “The first sentences and first paragraphs of any writing are increasingly important for arousing the restless reader . . . to excite the reader’s curiosity, preferably about a character or a relationship.” If you take the conflict between the character and her mother that you have now on page 10 and make that your opening scene, you’ll drop the reader right into the action and also allow the reader to start getting to know your heroine through her actions, reactions, and words instead of trying to describe her personality while she’s getting out of bed and getting ready for the day.

Yes, it’s much longer than the original note. But which would you rather receive? “Too much backstory, slow opening” or a suggestion of how to rework it and advice from an expert in the field (Sol Stein) on why to make the change?

Cindy Woodsmall, a former critique partner, is the person who turned me onto citing an expert in a critique. It’s much too easy to discount someone’s opinion, but when it’s backed up by someone like Sol Stein, it’s hard to ignore the comment. When critiquing, I quote from Sol Stein, Don Maass, the Chicago Manual of Style (for technical/grammatical issues), the Writers’ Digest series of books—finally putting to use all of those writing how-to books I’ve collected over the years. And you know what? I’ve learned as much or more about writing through researching why I’m telling someone to do something a certain way than I have in any seminar or conference workshop I’ve ever participated in!

Think about the best and worst comments you’ve ever received on your writing. What made the best comments good? They were positive, weren’t they? Even if they were pointing out changes you needed to make? What about the worst? More than likely, they were negative and/or vague along the lines of “I don’t like your characters. They don’t do anything for me.” We’ll all get enough of those kinds of comments in rejections. We don’t need them from our critique partners, too.

So, Step 3 of critiquing is to remember the “Golden Rule.” To paraphrase it a bit: “Critique others as you would wish to be critiqued yourself.”

Before moving on to Step 4, here are some more examples of critiques I’ve given:

On a lot of backstory in a first chapter: The beginning of your chapter is dynamic—active and full of conflict for the POV character. However, nine out of your twenty-five pages (36%) is backstory. In Writing the Breakout Novel, Don Maass writes: “Backstory delivered early on crashes down on a story’s momentum like a sumo wrestler falling on his opponent. Because it is not yet necessary, I usually skim it. Remember that backstory is, for the most part, more important to you, the author, than to your reader. Once the main plot problem is focused and the characters have been launched on their trajectories, however, backstory can be a development, a deepening of what is happening. Breakout novelists hold it back for just the right moment, which can sometimes be quite late in the novel.” Your first three chapters are your opportunity to draw your reader into the action and current emotional state of your characters. Reveal their pasts little by little as the story moves along. I’ve marked several places on the manuscript where something crosses he heroine’s mind, and then I, as the reader, had to stop and go through the entire memory with her. Hinting of things that happened in the past are fine for the beginning of the novel—it gives the reader something to look forward to. Think of your opening chapters as the beginning of a relationship. That first time you meet someone, you don’t automatically tell them every minute detail of your past—you converse in a way and reveal only enough of yourself to make that person interested in you.

On Point of View: You have a good grasp on keeping the scenes only in one POV, which is a really difficult skill to master! I’d love to see you go even deeper–to write in a more active, deep POV. With telling phrases such as “she felt,” and “she thought,” you hold the reader at arm’s length and don’t let the reader get into the POV character’s head. Let the reader experience everything the character does through the character’s eyes without the “signpost” phrases that “tell” the reader the character is thinking, feeling, wondering, etc. Eliminate the word “was” and as many verbs ending in –ing as you possibly can. Using active verbs is the first step in showing rather than telling, and showing takes the reader deeper into the POV.

On Setting: You have a great voice for the historical time period you’re writing about. From the characters’ dialogue and the narrative, I know you’ve done a lot of studying of the era. As far as the setting goes, the sensory detail is good, but could be tweaked even more—more sense of the place, as I didn’t really experience the setting through her senses but through my own experiences.

Back in June, at my last grad school residency, I heard something from several first term students that really started to bother me. “I had to go back and re-read this several times looking for mistakes to mark.” I didn’t make the comment then that was running through my head, but will now take the opportunity to do so: critiquing is not “looking for mistakes.” Yes, mistakes are found during the critiquing process (hopefully!), but that should not be our attitude when we sit down to critique something.

When describing what I do for a living to someone the other day, I explained it as: I get paid to point out other people’s mistakes. As a copy editor, my job is to look for mistakes; and with great glee, I obliterate comma splices, unnecessary capitalizations, and grammatical errors of all flavors. However, this is not a good approach to take when critiquing.

Why?

For several reasons, but primarily because if we set out to find mistakes, we are going to overlook the positive by becoming mired down in the negative. No, you’re not always going to be able to find something positive to say about everyone’s writing all the time. And sometimes, when there is just nothing else you can say about someone’s work and you must give a critique, suggesting ways to improve the grammar or sentence structure may be the way to go (be positive and encouraging, don’t berate the person).

I know there are some critique groups that bring their work to group, read it there, and critique on the fly, but these are usually groups that have been together for quite some time and the members are familiar with each other’s stories and writing styles. Because my experience with critiquing has always been where I have time—days or weeks—to read something before having to give my critique (either via e-mail or in person in a workshop), that’s the style of critiquing I’m going to focus on.

The First Read-Through
When you sit down to read the latest novel from your favorite published author, do you do it with red pen in hand just waiting to start marking up the pages? Of course not. The first time you sit down with your crit partners’ work, do so as if you were reading a published novel. Just read it.

Because you do want to comment on things that strike you as a reader, keep a notepad or a pad of Post-it notes or, if you’re reading it on your computer (not suggested for the first read-through, but understandable because paper and toner are expensive), start a new document where you can write down your initial thoughts and reactions to the piece. Okay, if you’re like me, you probably feel like you must mark the manuscript for punctuation/grammar the first time through, but try to refrain.

On the first read-through, read for clarity and flow, story and characters:

• Does the story (chapter, excerpt) hold your interest to the end?
• Do the scenes flow smoothly, transitioning well from one to another?
• Were you at any point confused about details, about dialogue (who was speaking), or about the story?
• Are the characters interesting?
• Do you get a sense of the plot or major conflict that will be the driving force of the entire novel?
• If this were a published novel, would you want to read the entire thing based on the excerpt you’ve critiqued?

The Second Read-Through
Now is your chance to put everything you know about writing into practice. With your notes from the first reading at hand, read through the manuscript again, this time, marking/commenting on the details:

• Identify the Point of View. Is it consistent? Does the writer have a good grasp of it? Are changes in POV smooth and logical?
• Are sensory details present? Does the author use all five senses? Are there places where sensory detail could be added to enhance the story?
• What is the setting? Do you get a real sense of place through the author’s description? Does the author give too much description and detract from the story?
• Is there a good balance between showing and telling? Are verbs active (climbed) rather than passive (was climbing)? Signpost “telling” words to watch for: she felt, she saw, she heard, she thought, she wondered, etc.
• Look for a balance between narrative and dialogue. Does the author indicate who is speaking without using a “he said” type dialogue tag after each quote? Does the author use narrative to indicate the tone of voice/attitude rather than “embellished” dialogue tags such as she huffed, he bellowed, she remarked slyly.
• Do the main characters have believable flaws/virtues? Do secondary characters add to the story without stealing the spotlight? Do all characters show believable emotions?
• Do the main characters have a clear motive powerful enough to create/sustain conflict? What do you (as the reader) feel are the characters’ goals/motives?
• Is there a distinctiveness in the characters’ “speaking voices” and internal/POV thoughts or does everyone “sound” the same?
• Is the language of the narrative and dialogue appropriate for the time and place of the setting?
• Does the author avoid clichéd or dog-eared language? Is the author’s voice/style appropriate for the genre?

Obviously, this is not an exhaustive list, nor do you have to answer every question to provide good feedback.

Now you’ve got a good start on a critique—but you aren’t yet ready to send it back to your partner. Stay tuned for Step 3 . . .

Just go with me on this one—I have to have my analogy, or I won’t be happy.

As I’ve thought about critiquing, I’ve realized that the first thing we each need to learn is how to receive critiques well. Because until we know how to receive critiques, we will never be ready to give critiques.

I’ve seen several shows on Animal Planet about the [now-waning] phenomenon of having pigs as pets rather than dogs, cats, or other “normal” animals. As I’ve learned more about them, I’ve discovered there is much we can learn from these humble animals. (Facts are taken from the Sea World/Busch Gardens website: http://www.seaworld.org.)

1. Pot-bellied pigs have tough, sensitive skin. An oxymoron, you say? According to the SW/BG website, these creatures have skin that is tough enough to repel parasites and fleas and yet is still sensitive enough to burn in the sun. As writers, when our work is critiqued, we need to also have “tough, sensitive” skin. We need to be tough enough that we don’t take the critiques personally, and that any negative or overly-harsh remarks don’t do more than maybe just sting at the surface level. But we also need to have the sensitivity to be able to take in the comments so that we can improve our writing—but without getting burned. You cannot write FOR your critique partners—they cannot control your story, characters, or writing style. Pigs learn where the best mud-holes are so they can cover their skin to keep it from burning and yet still enjoy being outside doing . . . whatever it is they like to do. They still receive the warmth and benefits of being outside in the sunlight, without the damaging effects. Pay attention to and learn from the constructive criticism and practice keeping the negative stuff from penetrating your “tough, sensitive” and damaging you as a person and writer.

2. Pot-bellied pigs have excellent hearing. Be a good listener (figuratively if your critique group is one of the online varieties). Each semester when we assembled on campus at Seton Hill for our week-long intensive residency, part of our required work was critiquing 10 pages of writing for ten to twelve other students. The rules of these workshop critique sessions are detailed and strictly adhered to (I will summarize them and refer to them throughout this series of blogs). One of the most important rules is that when the student’s work is being critiqued (yes, aloud and face to face), the student is not allowed to respond to any comments until after everyone has had their chance to speak. Usually we take notes on everyone’s comments (although they give us their annotated copy afterward), to be able to answer questions when it is our turn to speak. I have seen several students (usually first termers) become defensive during this process, and their turn to speak is usually filled with defending their work to anyone who said anything the least bit not-flattering. The first time we ever get honest, objective feedback from someone on our writing, it can feel like a personal attack—or, for those of you who are parents, like an attack on your most beloved child. We may have never shared our writing with anyone else, or if we have, it may have been family members who only had wonderful, positive, flattering things to say afterward. Before being critiqued, we think we are the most wonderful writers in the world. No one likes to have their weaknesses, shortcomings, or mistakes pointed out—especially when it is something as personal as our writing. So we become defensive when we do receive criticism—even the positively-worded, constructive kind. I’ve been guilty of this—I still feel this way occasionally: They don’t know what they’re talking about. They don’t know as much about writing as I do. They’re only questioning this because they haven’t done the level of research I’ve done. When I realize I’m doing this, I have to stop, go wallow in the mud, and then come back to it with my tough, sensitive skin and pig-ears firmly in place. No, not all comments and advice given in critiques will be useful or even valid—which is why it’s important to have two or three critique partners. If only one person raises a question, then it may be something you can leave alone. However, if two or all three comment on it, it’s definitely an area of concern. But listen to everything your critiquers have to say first. Don’t put up your defenses and stop listening, because you may miss the key that will be the difference between producing something mediocre and something fabulous.

3. Pot-bellied pigs are herd animals. They are loyal (some say loving), each has a role to perform within the group, and they protect each other. Consider your critique group your herd. As a member of that herd, you have a role to perform which includes giving as much as receiving support to/from the other members. Each member of your “herd” will have different strengths and weaknesses. Learn what your strengths are and ask your crit partners to focus on the areas you feel you are weakest. Are you good at grammar but don’t know much about Point of View? Get your critiquers to focus on showing you how to go deeper into your characters’ heads—or even help you decide if you’re using the correct POV for the story. Are you great at description but don’t know a simile from a cliché? Get your partners to focus on your wording or even suggest rewrites that can help you learn how to turn a phrase in a unique way that can become your signature voice (no copying someone else’s style!).

4. Pot-bellied pigs have personalities and interests apart from the herd. The most important thing to remember in the critiquing process is that your writing is still YOUR writing. You cannot be so bound by the critiques you receive that you alter your voice, style, or story to fit what someone else thinks is best. You must remain true to your inner voice and to your story. One of the main complaints about writers who focus too much on critique group or workshop feedback is that they begin to lose their unique voice and style as a writer. If you are uncomfortable with changes your partners suggest or feel they aren’t right for your story after careful consideration and study, then don’t make the changes. Now, that doesn’t mean they aren’t right and that your writing won’t suffer for not making the change, but above all else, you must be true to yourself as a writer.

Ever since finishing my series of blogs on networking, I’ve been wanting to tackle the topic of critiquing. Right off the top, I’ll mention that critiquing is a subject that can create disagreement, so even though I’ll be using information and/or quotes from others on the subject, this will be a somewhat subjective discussion.

I like critiquing. I especially like critiquing for beginning writers—I usually railed against having to critique the “newbies” each semester at school, but once I started, and especially once I was sitting across the table from them, I really got into it. I like being critiqued—for the most part. I like being critiqued by people who know how to do it properly and who have similar if not more advanced writing skills to mine.

The problem I have with being critiqued is two fold:

1. I get blocked in my writing because I’m concerned about what my critiquers are going to say about my technique, style, word choice (oh, and characters and story) because I critique those things in others’ writing. (I’ve expounded upon this point at length recently in this blog.)

2. Once I receive a critique, I want to go back and fix all the “problems” my critique partners pointed out before moving forward with my writing. (Which is why it took me nearly three years to write HEI.)

What I’ve had to learn to do—and what I advise my mentees to do—is to read the critique, internalize the comments, learn from them, but keep moving forward. Did the critique point out the over use of certain words or phrases? Write them on a sticky note and post it on the side of the computer monitor so that as you continue the forward progress of your story/novel, that reminder is there—and it’s still there after you finish and go back to start your revisions.

After writing three versions of the first ten chapters of Happy Endings, Inc., my thesis novel, in the course of a year (two of them before starting at Seton Hill), I had to force myself to move forward with the story. This was very difficult, as I had a couple of major plot changes occur when writing the middle of the manuscript. I wanted to go back and change the first half of the novel, but I had to have a complete manuscript by the end of my second semester of school. So I started a “Changes To Be Made” file. As I reformed and restructured my plot, I would make notes to myself in this file of what I would need to change in the beginning to set up the new plot/characterization. I read my critiques as I received them, but just set them aside and plowed on through, just to get to the end.

Then, when revision time came, I pulled out my notes and all of the critiques I’d received. Before beginning on the rewriting, I just read through all of them and made a new set of notes, compiling all of my changes and the consensus of comments from the critiques (weighing my Faculty Mentor’s comments most heavily, of course).

Being a good critique partner is a talent, but can be learned as a skill if worked at hard enough. So, let’s explore together what it takes to learn the skill of both giving and receiving critiques. I’d love for you to post your comments, questions, and concerns about your critique experiences.