It’s been a wobbly week here in Paradise. I received, in two separate batches, the first sets of anonymous critiques of my opening chapter.
And that’s my post. Thanks for stopping by.
No, seriously. When the critique bundles landed in my e-mail, I scanned for disaster, then perused them without breathing (maybe that’s why I nearly passed out). I set them aside and eliminated 5,000 words from Chapter One. As a start.
A few days on. I reread the critiques. And I smiled. Eight writers saw my work. Eight published authors had criticisms and suggestions–some delivered far more gracefully than others–to make my story cleaner, snappier. Richer.
But I have to admit, I’ve put myself in a bit of a sticky place. I submitted these pages to a group of writers planted within a specific genre of fiction. More than that: a sub-genre of genre fiction. I picked a thematic element of my novel and tossed it to authors who write solely within this genre. The challenge is to extrapolate from a limited definition of story construction–according to a tried-and-true formula and for a specific group of readers–to the larger world of satisfying, engaging reads. And with some exceptions, I think the feedback was spot on. In the days since receiving these critiques, I’ve made enormous changes to my manuscript–not because I accepted everything offered as Gospel, but because I recognized the patterns. There were consistencies between the criticisms. And nothing my gut hadn’t already warned me about.
This morning, while my coffee was hot and my mind was clear, I read the feedback and read it again. Honest. Encouraging. All of it useful advice, even if I choose not to follow it. Here are a few comments I grabbed:
The setting, the writing, the premise, the history, the – everything. I loved it.
[[none of this is needed. I’m not trying to be harsh. This is publication ready writing. But this scene, while perfectly fine, is NOT moving the story forward.]]
Your writing is lyrical and highly polished. I recommend that you spend a little more time on the main character’s scene before moving to a different historical time.
…That was a bit confusing. Otherwise, the writing is brilliant.
…The writing is beautiful, but the distant viewpoint leaves me emotionally distanced from the characters. Good luck—you’ve got lots of talent.
Whenever I’m doing anything related to art (writing, acting, painting, cooking) I think of Thoreau. “Simplify, simplify, simplify.” Structure first. What is the main character’s goal, motivation and conflict. Establish those first and then decorate to best underscore the story elements. I believe this story will be fantastic.
In a sweet twist of serendipity, I read William Kenower’s book of essays for writers, Write Within Yourself: An Author’s Companion, the day before I received the first set of these critiques. He has this to say about facing rejection and criticism:
The world does not want you to fail. The world is forever supplying you with the information needed to do exactly what you want. Whether you accept this information is up to you. But do not fear the information. The only thing to fear is your judgment of that information. When those letters come back, look with friendly eyes upon what the world wishes you to know, and be grateful that you are one letter wiser.
I have so much to learn about storycraft. So much work to do before this novel is ready for a real editor to shred to bits. Mired in my isolation, I’ve had no idea until this week whether what I’ve been working on for the past fifteen months is viable, publishable work. I still don’t know that, but I feel more confident I’m on the right path. I believe the world does not want me to fail.
“Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”
Related Posts from wise writers~astute bloggers:
Five Reasons You Should Embrace Rejection Linda Formichelli for copyblogger