|
Information + Author+ Bibliography + Blog (wordpress) + Credentials + Editors Entertainment + Fiction+ Nonfiction + Fan Fiction + Drawing + Reading List Interactive + Contests+ Join Newsletter + Polls + Store Site + FAQ+ Link Buttons + Skins / Layouts
View Statistics
|
Edit/Critique - Skin Like a Rhinoceros Taking Critiques If You're Sensitive"You can't get upset about critiques on your story," said Ms. Giselson, my writing teacher at the New Orleans Center for the Creative Arts. "It isn't a critique on you." I read a similar line in the magazine Writer's Digest. Writer Jodi Picoult says that rejections "build up the rhinoceros-hide-thick skin you need to survive the publishing world." Picoult's article made me remember Ms. Giselson and how little she cared about our age and our experience. Did we want to be writers? Then we had to be tough, or we were unprofessional. She told this to sixteen-year-olds, but even at sixteen I wasn't sure I agreed with her. You see, I'm a sensitive person. The kind of person who bursts into tears if someone might be mad at me. And I didn't see why I had to change my personality (as I saw it) to be a good writer. The reason Ms. Giselson wanted us to be tough was because some people are so attached to their work that they get angry at anyone who points out flaws. This keeps the writer at the same level of writing and prevents them from editing their work. A decent reason, but not good enough for me. I go into a critique with the expectation that my story will come out changed, and that keeps me from being too attached. What I allow myself to be sensitive about (and I really can't help it) is when I do something stupid in my writing, something that someone else points out, and I'm utterly embarrassed to be caught at it, like a kid who wets the bed. Picoult says later in her article: "They say that failure builds character. Well, it also hurts like hell." She's right -- writing can hurt. Critiques, editing . . . it can make you want to hole up in your bedroom for a week. The professional part is being able to accept the truth, ignore the sludge, and move on with your work in spite of the pain. Understanding Critiques One of my gifts (as opposed to my many flaws) is being able to understand what people are trying to say as opposed to what actually comes out of their mouths. So when I hear "This line doesn't work for me," I understand the point. There is something wrong with the line, but they can't figure out what is wrong with it. It is an offer of help, though bumbling, and I take it as such. (Usually, with such an ambiguous comment, I write "awkward?" beside the line so I can examine it later.) Critique sessions (especially for us shy people) are better once you get to know the other people a little, which takes time and persistence. They're also better when you feel at least semi-competent, which also takes time and persistence. I, personally, prefer in-person critiques because of tone of voice. People will say things that may sound rough, but their tone of voice and facial expression will make it much easier to take. You don't get this over the internet -- and people on the internet will type less than they'll talk, so your critiques are more likely to be clipped, rushed, or even confusing. Personally, I like to sleep on a story before I critique it. I'll form parts of my critique while I'm getting ready for bed and polish it over breakfast. I do this by having a mental conversation with the author, narrating my impressions of the story until I find the phrasing that doesn't make my imaginary-author cry. But lots of people don't do this. They read the story, write down what they think, and have done with it. So in a workshop, I take my story, note every verbal comment on my copy, look up and gauge expressions when someone is trying to make a difficult point, summarize in my head, and jot it all down. I spend so much time trying to understand exactly what people are saying, trying to apply it to the story, to catch their first impressions and make my own mental leaps of how to fix it, that I have very little time to feel anything except that initial nervous, pounding heart. Taking a critique gracefully involves understanding both the motive behind it and the critique itself. If you deal with the same people on a regular basis, you will come to realize that John says things that never come out like he means for them to, that you don't always agree with Anne, and that Boris always steals your thunder by saying exactly what you were going to. But what it means when you are critiqued is that you need to look behind John's words to his meaning, you must double-check all of Anne's suggestions, and Boris will probably give you exactly what you would have given yourself. To understand the critiques you receive is to make them less frightening. To embrace them is another beast entirely. But understanding will lead to embracing, and embracing will lead to using. And when you use a good critique, it will make your work stronger.
Picoult, Jodi. "Try, Try, Try Again." Writer's Digest. August 2007. 36-7. |
|
|