Being Critiqued

By Amy MacKinnon

It didn't go well.

Weeks ago, I submitted the first two chapters of my WIP to my writers' group. It was my turn to be critiqued, and truth be told, I was a wreck. I was at a crossroads and badly needed these pages to be good. Having my first book, Tethered, well-received by publishing types should have been all the reassurance I needed. But we are writers and we are required to prove our merit anew (to the world, but more important to ourselves) with each subsequent story.

The other issue at hand was I'd just finished reading the sophmore effort of a writer whose first book was brilliant. This second book was a disappointment. It read too much like his debut, even the characters had the same voice, inflections, physicality. I didn't want to write another version of Tethered so I stetched beyond my abilities. This work-in-progess of mine could not be first person, there would be no present tense, there would be multiple points-of-view and even an omniscient narrator. It was a struggle.

My writers' group was kind, of course. First, they spoke of the good contained within my pages and then told me all that wasn't working: too much backstory plunked in here; slow down the action there; be careful to tread lightly with the visuals in this section; and, no, that nickname doesn't work at all. They were kind and they were honest.

Afterward, I thought I had shown them too much too soon. For me. I was feeling fragile and uncertain, I should have waited. Perhaps this story wasn't what I should be writing. It was hard.

From time to time, I'd open up the document and re-read what I had. Should I proceed? I started another. I liked it very much, it would be a joy to write. Almost easy because I'm so close to it. The research will be a cinch. There is no ease to the research with my WIP. My book is based on actual events, a horror the world turned its back to, but one I can't forget. Reading, and oh my God watching, what mothers and fathers, what young children had to endure left me devastated. I should let go of the story, I thought.

But it wouldn't let go of me.

What I didn't realize (and you may find this difficult to believe) was that each time I reviewed my WIP, I revised it. It seemed too little to meet the demands of my writers' group -- they have very high standards expressed in the kindest possible terms. A tweak here, deleting a paragraph there, punching up dialogue all around moved it forward, though I was certain it wasn't enough.

Last night, they critiqued those same pages. Their hard work and mine was rewarded; they deemed the work up to par. After they finished with their feedback, Lisa asked if the last time had been too much, too critical. I told her it was, that I hadn't been ready to hear all they had to say so early on in the project. But Lynne disagreed. She said that while I may have felt that way, the revision proved otherwise. Hannah agreed the proof was on the page.

I don't know how some writers do it, how they work without the support of others who know what it is to labor and second-guess and obsess over every word on the page. To wonder if the work is good enough and not receive an answer.

Last night felt exactly like the very first time I presented the first two chapters of Tethered to Hannah, Lisa, and Lynne. I was elated and reassurred that I was on the right path. More than that I was grateful to know I have these three extraordinary women in my life.

Novel Concept

Posted by Lynne

As a young girl, one of my favorite memories involves reading a book bigger than me filled with black and white illustrations and fables written by a man named Aesop. I imagined Aesop as an old man with a long white beard, I didn't know what the words philosopher or sage meant back then, but I knew he had to be wise. Why? Because of the morals at the end of his tales. The simple one liners that pulled the whole story together.

A few weeks back, I began to ponder the notion of theme related to the novel when a writers forum I visit tackled a discussion about it. The question posed was do you know your themes before you write or are they made visible after you write? I was a bit surprised to learn that some writers don't know their themes until the end of a full draft.

To me, every great story has themes and the writer simply must know at least some of them before writing. I'll use one of Aesop's to illustrate my point. In the Dove and the Ant, the ant falls into the river and the dove drops a bough to help the ant get safely to the shoreline. Later the ant stings the man about to use his bow and arrow to shoot the dove from the sky. The moral--one good turn deserves another, and little friends can be great friends.

The theme or moral argument in this little example is a major underpinning of the story structure. Knowing the message-- the truth behind the writing--drives plot, informs character, and even offers authenticity to setting.

I'd been thinking a lot about theme before Christmas, and then the books I received as gifts forced me to examine it on a deeper level. If you don't agree with me-- that great writers know themes before writing-- I challenge you to read On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan or Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez or The Count of Monte Christo by Alexandre Dumas or Beloved by Toni Morrison. I can barely breathe when I read these masters because every word, though never heavy handed, gently takes the reader by the hand to bring her to a universal theme about love, or identity, or justice, or friendship, or dreams.

If you want to create a truly accessible work of fiction, I encourage you to examine the idea of themes in writing. Another of my favorite gifts was John Truby's, The Anatomy of Story. Truby does a great job discussing the need to articulate your themes before writing and he offers so much more about creating a workable premise for your novel. It is a must read if you resolve to write a novel this year.

Each day before you write, revisit your themes. Immerse yourself in your character's truth. I believe your wisdom will find its way into your story, and readers will be forever changed.

Falling

Posted by Lisa

Claire Cook, author of bestselling novel Must Love Dogs, had plenty of inspiring thoughts to share with the packed room at the Public Library in Duxbury, Massachusetts last Wednesday. Not the least of which was a belief she shared three times in the course of the evening. She said, "If writing a novel were easy, then everyone would do it."

I know writing a book is a challenge. I've completed one novel which is on submission with editors as we speak (feel welcome to cross your fingers for me and do an editor dance, too). I've completed a second draft of another. A good friend and wonderfully inspiring woman in my writer's group once said upon reflection: "Writing a novel is hard work, who knew?"

The writing is hard. But now I know the waiting is worse. For agents, for editors. It forces me to dig deeper than I ever did when searching for a better word, or thinking a character through further.

My writers' group helps me improve my writing skill; I wouldn't be the writer I am becoming without them. But now I know their support and encouragement is huge at this point in the process of becoming a published author.

I am not a quitter, but I wonder at times if I would have the courage to push forth without their support. When I have had setbacks, and I've fallen to the ground, Amy, Hannah, and Lynne have picked me up. They seem to have a magical ability to find kind and thoughtful words to help me on my way. They get me to take a few deep breaths. They brush the dirt off my knees and guide me on my path again.

Tomorrow my writers' group and I will be speaking at Buttonwood Books in Cohasset, MA. I hope we will help others to find their way into a writers' group that works, that we will help others learn how to make it work. So they, too, will have someone to pick them up when they trip. Because in this business you can't help but fall hard from time to time.

Rituals build trust

A line or two from Lynne

Young children thrive on routine and structure. Predictable and consistent routines make them feel safe and secure--ready to learn. Why wouldn't writers feel the same way. We do.

Like young children at the beginning of a school day, we file into one of our member's dining room between 7 and 7:10 pm one evening every other week. Funny, we arrive in a predictable pattern, too. We do not change locations each week. This decision was made early on because of a child care need but has turned out to be terrrific for minimizing the distraction and stress changing locations each week would bring.

We place our journals and pages down at our regular seats. These seats were not assigned but chosen the first week and now no one would change them. There is comfort in sameness.

The four of us meet first in the kitchen where we pour a cup of tea and take a biscotti or apple square. The refreshments are not the focus of our meeting yet they've become a small ritual that marks the beginning of our time together. There is no pressure to bake the perfect cake; only the self-imposed pressure to write the perfect story.

If you've read the earlier posts this week written by Lisa, Amy and Hannah, you know the ins and outs of how we run a meeting. We thrive on the routine and structure. It is the calm in the midst of putting forward your work for critique.

One special ritual adds uniqueness to our group and it is our celebratory glasses. Drinking alcohol has never been nor will it be part of our meetings; we are at work in our meetings. But the celebratory glasses filled with sparkling lemonade or pear juice is my favorite ritual.

When one of us finishes a manuscript, gets an agent or a book deal, out come the glasses. We raise our glasses high, genuinely thrilled for the person for whom we are celebrating.

The structure we rely on and the rituals we've adopted have allowed us to trust each other and to be comfortable sharing our precious work. We've found over the fifteen months that we've been a group that we're all eager to do the same thing. Write what we love, share what we write and do it with other serious writers.

The Right Writers' Group

Tuesdays with Amy

The first writers’ group I joined met every Monday. Eight to ten women would arrive (we were never really sure how many would show) some empty-handed, others clutching pages: one wrote angst-ridden memoir; another, picture books; and still another would burst in with a flash of brilliance scribbled in the margins of her shopping list. The rules were that everyone read aloud up to ten pages to the group, and then the group would devote the next few minutes to critiquing the writing sample. All of this was preceded by lots of personal chit-chat.

Clearly, this wasn’t productive.

There was no order, no real structure, and worst of all, no expectation of momentum concerning either our meetings or our writing. We were a dysfunctional group and we knew it.

Most agreed to part ways, and Hannah, one of the newest members, offered to host a farewell party. Somehow -- I don’t recall the particulars -- Hannah, Lisa, and this new woman, Lynne, whom we met for the first time at that party, cajoled me into giving it another go – shhh, just the four of us.

Now, I am not a person to be cajoled into anything. People who know me well can attest that asserting my will has never been a problem for me, but these three women were all so…eager.

Reluctantly, I agreed, but with several caveats. Not only did they agree to these conditions, they had some of their own:

- We would meet every two weeks. Once a week was too cumbersome to our other lives and created unnecessary pressure to produce pages instead of good writing.
- Two people would present up to 20 pages, no fewer than 15, at each meeting. That meant each of us had to generate a certain volume of respectable pages once a month; manageable and productive.
- Pages had to be sent at least a week in advance and edited by the other members before the meeting.
- At the meeting, the person whose work was being critiqued had to remain silent until the others were finished discussing her pages.
- We had to begin each critique with several compliments about the writing.
- No unnecessary chit-chat about topics unrelated to the writing life.

I knew before the first meeting that I would soon withdraw. The dynamic of the last group had worn me through, and I didn’t believe that this new group could hold fast to this terse structure. That first meeting, though, even I had to agree it went well. Still, I planned to tell them the next time we met that I was leaving. But the next time, I couldn’t because I had agreed to read their pages. The next meeting, then. It went on like that for a couple of months, until one night when they were work-shopping an early section of my novel-in-progress. They understood the themes, quickly identified the weaknesses, and were genuinely supportive of my project. They got it. More than that, I recognized I was working with individuals intent on creating something beautiful with their words. Without even realizing it, I had become devoted to their writing as well.

Since then, they’ve become the critics swirling in my head as I write, the ones who understand what it means to type for hours and never notice the time, they have become my dear friends, and my needed touchstone.

And together, we have become a writers’ group.