Giving and Receiving Critique: or, Learning to Kick Your Ego in the Groin

"Criticism may not be agreeable, but it is necessary. It fulfils the same function as pain in the human body. It calls attention to an unhealthy state of things." - Winston Churchill

(Yes, but some of us would much rather take an aspirin and ignore it).

I used to be absolutely dreadful at taking criticism of my writing. Like a lot of writers, I can be ridiculously sensitive and insecure when it comes to my work, and it didn't take much to make me defensive and hurt. I was also a big fan of the "Oh, I just dashed this off last night. And I haven't given it a proper edit yet" excuse (The sartorial equivalent: "Oh, this old thing? Just something I threw together," which everyone knows is a lie). It was a form of self-preservation: if they loved it, I felt good because I had produced something good in five minutes. If they didn't, well then, it wasn't because I lacked talent but because I had only spent five minutes on it. I'm sure you can see how ultimately pointless this strategy was.

It took several years and lots of bumps and bruises, but I think that now I'm able to listen to criticism relatively objectively, and apply it where needed (most of the time). I've compiled a brief list of guidelines that I think will help with asking for, accepting and acting on critique - just my opinions, but I hope that some of them will be useful!

Whom do you ask?

In general, it is not a good idea to ask family, close friends or partners for a critique. I say 'in general' because, of course, there are many exceptions. LOML, for example, is a great beta reader. He has a naturally critical, logical mind and is blessed with the personality trait of brutal honesty. I'm very lucky. My mother, however, would be a dreadful beta reader, as she would wander off and forget what she was supposed to be doing. I also have some wonderful friends who are avid readers - and a couple of them very decent writers - whom I would never, ever ask for a critique because I know that neither of us could be objective.

Only give your work to people whose opinion you trust and respect. Don't give it to someone who you think is a bad writer, or at least worse than you, as you'll discount their critique as soon as it arrives. (It might also be interesting to ask yourself why you chose this person in the first place). If you are part of a writers' group or a writing class, the pickings are rich. Don't worry if you don't have writerly friends you want to ask, though: avid and discerning readers can give you just as good a critique as fellow writers - and they'll raise some interesting points that writers, mired in the words, may miss (Can't see the wood for the trees, and all that). Choosing someone who reads within your chosen genre has obvious benefits, as they will have a more specialised take on your manuscript.

Establish a deadline

This can be a bit of an awkward subject to broach, particularly as your reader is performing the service for free. Remember that you are asking a huge favour, that critiquing a manuscript is difficult and time-consuming, and that people read and work at different paces. It is a good idea to establish a rough timeline, however, to keep your reader motivated and to make sure you receive the critique in good time.

Just a small note of caution: be aware who has your manuscript at any given time, and ask for it back when your reader has finished. You don't want an early draft floating around in the ether for anyone to read.

No disclaimers

Don't give your work to a reader with the addendum "I wrote this really quickly/it's the first thing I've written in months/I haven't read over this yet", or any of the other excuses that trip gaily off your tongue when you're about to give your baby up to be criticised. There are only two reasons to give disclaimers:

1. You actually think that your work is rushed, rough and not reader-ready. In which case, why are you giving it to a reader?

2. You think your work is pretty good, and that people will be extra-impressed if they think you did it in five minutes or never practise your writing. They really won't be.

Take charge of your critique

I think you will get the most thorough and focused critique if you give a sort of study sheet to your reader along with the actual manuscript; a list of things to which you would like him or her to pay special attention. Of course, they are free to raise other points as well, but it will be helpful to both of you if there is some focus to the feedback. If you are a decent writer, you will be aware (however reluctantly) of the potentially weak points in your work, and the experimental bits that you hope will work but could fail miserably. You will also be aware of your own personal pitfalls and bad habits. The list will enable you to weed out these potential problems. It is also an opportunity to work with your readers' strengths. If you know someone who's very good at analysing film plots and pointing out where they fail, ask them to pay particular attention to the plot. You get the idea.

I would also suggest being clear on how you would like to receive the critique. I'm a fan of written critique - then, if I have an unpleasant emotional response to a comment or suggestion, I'm having it all by myself and not in front of the critic. It also makes it easier to refer back to the comments when you're making changes, and I believe a critic is likely to be more honest when they're not criticising your work to your face.

If you do choose to receive the feedback in person, however, make sure you are feeling strong. Try to stay unemotional in the face of good and bad comments. If you burst into tears when they tell you they found a typo, they will (understandably) be reluctant to carry on, and will probably temper the rest of their comments. If you get angry or overly emotional in any way, they might not agree to read your work again. They're not criticising you as a person, even though it might feel that way (particularly if your work is at all autobiographical).

Examine your motives

Make sure you are choosing your reader and giving up your manuscript for the right reasons - it will save you some heartache and wasted time. These are just a few examples of possible motives. There are many more.

THE WRITER

1) You're feeling pretty good about yourself and your work. You want someone to give you a pat on the head and confirm that your writing is as awesome as you think it is.

Really not a good idea to ask for critique, then. If all you want is someone to tell you that you're the Best Writer Ever, then call your mother or someone else who loves you unconditionally. There's nothing wrong with doing this (occasionally) - we all do! Just don't disguise it as a desire for brutally honest critique. You'll regret it. Like those tone-deaf people on American Idol.

2) You're feeling down about your work and you're looking for some encouragement

I feel for you, I really do. Again, though, it may not be the best idea to ask for critique here unless you give your reader some parameters. Maybe tell them to lay off the spelling, grammar and continuity for the moment, and concentrate on your story. Does it make them want to read more? Do they like the characters? It's even all right to ask them to tell you just The Good Stuff about your work, if you need a pick-me-up. Postpone the harsh critique. The desired result here is to get enough encouragement to keep trucking on.

I gave a set of poems to a friend once - not for critique, just for a bit of encouragement. I did not make this clear, obviously, because the poems (some of which were deeply personal and which referenced people and events she knew) came back to me absolutely covered in red pen and critical comments. It was awful. And entirely my fault. I was not ready for a critique.

Be aware, as a writer, of what you truly want - not what you think you ought to want - and ask for it. If you're only three chapters in and you just want some encouragement to keep going, tell your reader. If you want a critique of the plot and structure but you're not too concerned about grammar and typos at this stage, tell your reader. Be clear.

3) You genuinely want a thorough and honest critique of your work.

Hooray! This is a tough but valuable place in which to be: when you feel strong enough to give your manuscript to beta readers and tell them to be as anal-retentive, nit-picking, brutal and critical as possible, because you can take it. I am writer, hear me roar.

THE READER

1) They could have a negative agenda (not often, but it happens). For example:

They don't like you/your writing/your story and they can't put those feelings aside to give you an honest critique.

They are embittered or frustrated about their own work, and they want you to feel just as embittered and frustrated.

They are jealous of you and want to take you down a peg or two. Sometimes they are blocked writers and resent your productivity.

2) They don't feel much enthusiasm about your work, or they agreed to read it out of politeness. This means that they don't devote the time and attention to your work that it needs (or never finish it at all), and give you a half-hearted, vague critique.

3) They genuinely want to help you with a thorough and honest critique. These people are valuable. Treasure them, treat them well, mildly stalk them.

If you are both approaching the critique from a position of honesty, encouragement and support, the results will be helpful. If not, not so much.

If you are a reader ...

... Be aware of what the writer wants from you, and respect it. This is not an opportunity to foist your own ideas and style onto the writer, or to act out your own agenda. If you agree to read someone's work, you are agreeing to act in their best interests. If you don't think you can do that, don't agree to critique.

Be brutally honest, but be kind. Simon Cowell is good television but not necessarily a role model. Remember that your words matter. No matter how objective the writer tries to be when she hears your critique, she will take your words to heart - good or bad - and probably remember them for a long time. Be aware of this. This isn't to say you should temper your criticism, be dishonest or pander to her: just be aware. Words matter, and they are permanent.

Treasure the praise

We tend to remember the criticism far more vividly than we remember the good stuff. I have all the bad comments on my work memorised, and can recite them in a loop when asked (great fun at parties, as you can imagine). Make an effort to remember the praise just as vividly. I used to keep a little notebook in which I recorded the compliments I received, which I know sounds a little twee, but it works wonders on those days when you're convinced that you are The Worst Writer of All Time. If you remember an especially treasured compliment, put it up on your inspiration board, or on your screen.

Writers' groups

This post has focused on the one-on-one relationship of writer and beta reader, but it's also worth mentioning that many-headed monster, the writers' group.

"Every group is different, and often, groups are organized on the basis of friendship or general affinity, rather than shared genre or level of writing experience — or, as many hard-working group veterans know to their cost, familiarity with standard manuscript format and/or the rules governing the use of the English language." - Anne Mini.

You will get the best results out of your writer's group if there is a similar level of talent and dedication between you. If you are working with a group of hobbyists and you want to pursue writing as your professional career, you are probably not going to be challenged and constructively criticised enough to improve. If you are lucky enough to have a really great group, however, take advantage of it.

Acting on critique

Bad criticism is vague, personal and destructive. Constructive criticism is specific, objective and not only aims to improve the work, but also suggests ways in which it could be improved.

I think that we have a gut feeling when it comes to our work. We usually know, deep down, when something isn't working. Good, helpful criticism may sting at first, but it should also make us think, "Aha! So that's it." It should open doors of possibility, not slam them shut.

If you don't feel that intuitive sense that the criticism is good or bad, then approach other people with the same problem. If you hear the same criticism from all or most of them, you should almost certainly change it. I completely overhauled my last manuscript when I started hearing the same comments from several different agents. It was painful and difficult, but when it was finished, the book was a million times better. And I signed with an agent almost immediately afterwards!

Gratitude

Thank your critic, no matter what they say. Critiquing someone's work is hard, time-consuming and does not have a financial pay-off. Even if they ripped your work to shreds, they have done you an enormous favour. Take them out to coffee, buy them flowers and say thank you!

Books are not babies

A lengthy post about manuscript revision follows. Just a warning. GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL CAN!

So, the book is now nearly unrecognisable. I felt depressed about this on the weekend, as I looked at the hundred thousand words I spent last year toiling over and realised that a great deal of them were gone. I shook myself out of that funk pretty quickly, however, by recognising that all that material needed to be written in order for me to find the novel that was inside it. As Mark Twain said, "The time to begin writing an article is when you have finished it to your satisfaction. By that time you begin to clearly and logically perceive what it is that you really want to say." This applies to novels too, I think.

The novel was sliced and diced into bits. I had a lot of ideas and a lot of questions, and I needed to get a clear vision in my head of the shape the finished book would take.

I (metaphorically) sat down in the middle of all the shredded paper and bits of bleeding manuscript and asked myself, "What am I ACTUALLY trying to say with this book? What is it really about? Really, really?"

(A pretty good question to ask oneself before beginning, I'm sure, but hey, I'm a maverick - as in, I'm probably doing it wrong).

Once I'd asked myself that question, it was relatively easy to peel all the layers of story away until I was left with a kernel. It reminded me of a segment on the special features of the Lord of the Rings (yes, I am an enormously geeky person and spent an entire summer holiday watching all three films and every single special feature over and over, every day for about three months. I am not exaggerating. Luckily my husband was doing it with me, which makes it a bit less sad. But I digress). In this segment, Peter Jackson was discussing the editing of the three films. They shot for a record number of days, and ended up with a wealth of material. Too much, in fact. They had a very difficult time in the editing studio trying to trim down all this material to match the script in a way that advanced the story without slowing it down or digressing. It was a nightmare. Finally, Jackson went away and thought about it, and came up with a simple and brilliant solution. He asked himself what the story - this lengthy, hugely detailed, complex monster of a story - was really about, and decided it was about Frodo and it was about the ring, and it was about the journey of these two entities.

This made their decisions far easier. Even if they loved a particular piece of footage, they asked themselves, "Does this support the central story?" And if it didn't, out it went. (Of course, they had an extended cut as well as the cinematic cut, but we humble book-writers don't have that luxury).

I had a similar revelation, and I found this article by Holly Lisle remarkably helpful for the process, as is almost everything on her site. I wrote down what the book was about, in fewer than fifteen words. It took a while to get down to fifteen, but I worked at it until I had the briefest summary I could possibly have. Then I went through my plot outline and cut out everything that didn't serve that central story in some way. I also wrote down the main theme in fewer than fifteen words, and the sub-themes in the same way.

This meant that I have had to ask myself some hard questions over the past two weeks. About every scene and every character I have asked, "Does this matter? Do I need this? Is it important?" Quite often, the answer is no. It has been tough. I thought I was handling it quite well until I realised that a particularly beloved character and subplot did nothing but slow down the story and distract it from its real purpose. Cutting that one hurt quite a bit. Essentially I am taking a microscope to the core of the story and discarding everything else, which means both that the central story needs to be fully developed and that I am going to end up with a much stronger book at the end of the (hellish) process.

Then came another hard job. One of the problems I saw with my original manuscript was that my narrator wasn't strong enough. She was an observer rather than an active participant. I also felt that she didn't show enough significant growth throughout the story. So, I took some more of Holly Lisle's suggestions, and wrote a one-line story arc for this character - the journey she takes through the book. I also asked myself:

"What does she want more than anything else in the world?"

and

"What is she most afraid of?"

These questions are so revealing. I think these are the two most important things to know about any character - the answers show you the motives behind any person's actions. They're trying to achieve the one, and they're trying to avoid the other, and if they're a compelling enough character they feel passionately about both. Once I had a clear story arc in written form, and the answers to these two questions, I felt like I knew my protagonist a lot better. She came more sharply into focus, and the rest of the book came with her.

I also made the decision to switch the book from first to third person. It's a big job, but I think it's necessary.

If there's anything I've learned while working on this book, it's that I have a lot to learn. Novel-writing 101. It is definitely humbling, but also very exciting. And a lot of hard work. I've written 'novels' since I was very young, and even had one published, but I've never had to work so much on the brick-by-brick construction of a work like this one. I think I (arrogantly) assumed that I would get everything right by instinct, but no matter how talented you are, it takes a lot of revision and hard work to make a successful book.

My three main tools at the moment, as I work through the rewrites, are: a synopsis; a chapter-by-chapter breakdown; and a page of character notes. I have found them all unbelievably helpful for keeping me focused.

I say synopsis, but there are actually three synopses - the one-sentence one I mentioned earlier, a very detailed one that's about seven pages long, and a shorter one that's about the length of the blurb on a book cover. After a couple of hours working on these, I went a bit mad and started ending the plot summaries with silly things like "WITH HILARIOUS RESULTS!", "BEFORE A GIANT METEOR HITS THE EARTH," and "TO FIGHT THE INVADING SPACE PIRATE ARMY." At least I find myself amusing. (And no, my book does not contain an invading space pirate army).

So, as you can probably tell from all this, I'm stitching together almost a new book altogether. I think it's going to be worlds better when I'm finished, but there is an enormous amount of work ahead. Occasionally I have a minor panic attack, but then I go for a walk, buy something, eat a piece of chocolate or put a pot of coffee on (hey, I didn't say they were all healthy solutions) and get back to it. Speaking of which, I had better get back to work.

To explain the post title: books are not babies, thank goodness, even though they are often compared to them. "It's like sending your child out into the world!" "I feel like I've given birth to this book." I understand those sentiments, but the analogy falls apart when it's time to revise. You wouldn't give a baby plastic surgery, change its gender twice and its name three times and try six different noses on it to see which one looks best. I hope.

P.S. A bit of housekeeping. I am dreadfully behind on comments again, so thank you for bearing with me - I am crazily busy and will catch up as soon as I can. And if you're waiting for a package from me, you won't have to wait much longer ... I'm sending them out next week! Hooray. Oh, and I'm also having a big closet clean-out very soon and selling some lovely vintage dresses, so I'll keep you posted on that too.

Long post ahead!

Oh jeez. Breakthroughs galore (I feel like it should be 'breaksthrough', like 'culs de sac' or 'passers-by', but then I would have to start saying 'hamsburger' and 'lawnsmower').

So. I have been reading through Old Book (as in, the one for the Masters) and proofing it, ready to be submitted. As you know, I started submitting it to agents back in September, only a couple of months after it was finished. I felt confident in the book, and I wanted to get it out there as soon as possible. I had edited it exhaustively, but I hadn't really spent enough time 'out' of it to get any sort of distance. Reading through it today, however, I experienced an unexpected revelation.

I haven't felt really, rock-bottom down about any of the rejections from agents. I have been sad, sure, but I have never felt like giving up, and I have never felt like I'm pursuing something that's out of my grasp. I don't think I am. The rejections, despite their obvious downside, have been 'good' ones (you know what I mean). If I was going to summarise the pros and cons from each letter, I would say that all of them said that the book is well-written and that they enjoyed it, and all of them said it would be hard to sell because it reads more like a memoir than a novel.

There are different types of criticism. There's the amorphous, unhelpful kind: "I just didn't like it." There's the personal, even less helpful kind: "I can't believe you wrote this piece of crap. What were you thinking?" And then there's the useful, constructive kind, the kind that makes you go "Aha! So that's it! I can fix that." You hear it with recognition and gratitude (and okay, maybe a little petulance, because you are human, but only for a second), because some part of you knows it is true. That kind of criticism opens doors rather than slamming them in your face. And that's what the statement "it reads more like a memoir than a novel" did for me. Because it absolutely does. Reading over it now, now that I've had a few months to let it settle and gain some sort of objectivity, I can see that far more clearly.

I'm not sorry I shopped it out to agents so soon after editing it, though, because in a weird way the rejections I received were a sort of validation. They were saying, "You're in the right business, you're a good writer, but this needs some work before I'll take it on." And I've learned an awful lot about the agent-hunting process, and feel a lot more confident approaching them. But what I do know is that I can see a clear path to creating a more novel-like version of the novel. A way to make it better. A way which will involve a LOT of work which I will have to do while I'm working on Current Novel. Totally worth it.

This is not to say I'm giving up on finding an agent for the book - after all, it's still sitting with several agents who are yet to respond. I just feel like I can rework it while I'm writing New Book, and make it better - solve some of the problems. We'll see.

On an entirely different subject, I have a great story to tell you! You may remember the vintage dress that LOML bought for me as an anniversary present, while we were in Nelson. Well, I went to Tete a Tete Vintage yesterday (and bought something lovely to show you when the weather clears up, but that's another story), and spotted a coat hanging on one of the racks. It was made of identical fabric to this dress, and had the same very distinctive button detail, one on each lapel. The buttonholes are edged in a darker fabric - very unique. When I looked at the label, I saw it was made by Juliet of Christchurch, same as my dress. It was surreal. I turned to Vanessa (one of the two owners) and said, "I think I have the dress that matches this." When I told her I had bought it in Nelson, she got all excited as well and told me that a friend of hers had bought the coat in Nelson. Evidently someone had separated the two pieces up there and sold them separately. But what are the odds that I would find the dress up there, and then find the coat in my favourite vintage store here in Christchurch, miles away? Synchronicity, I tell you!

I put the coat on lay-by, of course. I mean, how could I not buy it? Fate will not be denied.