
But, if you were to dig me out from under the books and manuscript pages, you'd find me smiling about a review of Split.
After reading this Salon article, reposted by Moonrat, I started thinking about feedback, which honestly, I think about a lot between my final year in University of Minnesota’s MFA program, two writer’s groups, teaching, and doctoring manuscripts (i.e. manuscript consulting). The question the writer’s friend has in the Salon article is, basically, how do I keep a friend and still give honest feedback. Unasked, I’m chiming in.
Of course, all friendships are different, but I do think friends should strive to be honest. But be honest about everything: strengths and weaknesses both.
So, if you're gracious enough to read for a writer, then here are my tips for giving feedback:
1) Telling the author she’s pretty.
Okay. Not literally. This is a phrase that my writer's group came up with to indicate that every piece has it's good points. You need to tell her what works, and not just to protect the ego before ripping her work (not her) apart. The value is simple: pedagogical studies indicate that we learn better from our strengths than our weaknesses.
And here's the hard part: You should try to tell her WHY it worked. And you thought giving compliments was simple.
2) Be a mirror.
Writers get lost in our own work and worlds. On the 5th draft of my novel, Split, my agent asked me something about a character’s history. I was shocked to discover that her history was not only absent in the 5th draft, it wasn’t in any draft; it was still in my head. So, tell the writer what you see. For instance: 'Jenny is a 15 year old girl who likes to take chances.' Sure, it makes you sound a little simpler than you are. It’s a 'well, duh' kind of thing. But as writers we don’t know what is on the page and what is still in our heads.
Mirrors also help because the mirror contains no value judgement. The value judgement is all up to the person looking at the reflection. It's true that sometimes, as writers, we're trying to do something you don't like. Like make you hate a character right from the start, or frustrate you with a character's choices. My editor wrote a question in my manuscript that went something along this lines of, 'why doesn't she just ...?' I asked her about whether my character's motivation was unclear and she said no, she was just so frustrated by my character's choices she had to write something. I count that as one of my best compliments ever; I knew I had what I was trying to do.
Very useful feedback, indeed. Do tell the writer your responses.
You guessed it; mirroring is actually the hard stuff.
3) Tell her what needs more attention.
Whether it’s sloppy sentence structure of characters whose arcs are flat, writers come to critiquers to know what they can do better. So, with care, tell her what parts you didn’t believe or thought the writing was weak or whatever your concerns are.
Surprisingly, this is the easy part.
One caveat though: If the manuscript is solid, don’t make up something to sound smart. More on that in another post when I discuss some of the perils of workshopping.
4) Trust the writer.
As writers, we’re told to trust the reader. As critiquers, trust the writer. Give her some time, expect she’ll figure out what to do, and know that she appreciates the hard work you’ve done for her.
5) Finally, thank her.
Exposing our work to a reader is a little like posing naked for a photograph and then asking what you think about the lighting and the composition. If she's willing to show it to you, she trusts you. Value the compliment.
I know we're asking a lot when we ask for a critique, but writers could not produce the fantastic works they have without the help of their friends/editors/readers. Just look at Maxwell Perkins’ writers. Thomas Wolfe is no slouch, but I’m equally impressed by the person who reigned him in.
A first book is an act of faith. You hope your imagination will bring you some place worth going and that your intuition will not fail you. You dig deeply into your imagination and create characters; you fuss with plot and structure; and you pray. A lot.
But I did not think past my first book; it was all I could handle – creating a manuscript and hoping it would turn into a real book someday. Thinking beyond that was plain hubris.
That kind of thinking. magical thinking, makes sense to me when it comes to the unpredictable and mysterious world of publishing. It’s like women who don’t discuss their pregnancy until after the first trimester (I blabbed immediately) or throwing salt over your shoulder (I can never remember which shoulder). A lot of us are ruled by superstitious half-truths that we don’t buck, lest bad luck befall us.
But magical thinking didn’t serve me well after I got my contract.
Now, I know, it's not kosher to complain about something as remarkable as a contract. Who has that much ego and hubris and looking a gift horse in the mouth? Well, every author who has come across a second book, I believe. But because we, who have a debut novel emerging, are aware of our luck and are grateful for what we have, we don’t discuss our second book struggles. Or at least, not as much as we should.
But I’ve come up with some weapons for attacking the second book blues. Here’s one of my best weapons coping with rising expectations. Elizabeth Gilbert faced much, much higher expectations after publishing the enormously successful Eat, Pray, Love. Here’s what this funny woman had to say about it. I hope it inspires you, like it has me.
In May of this year, I got to meet one of my writing idols, Laurie Halse Anderson. I discovered her books years ago, when my son, who we’ll call The Possum, was only about four. We had spent so much time in bookstores over the years that The Possum had become an excellent book browser by age four. He could out do me. So, while he browsed books in at a local children’s bookstore, I wandered bored. I assumed there was nothing for me to do.
I struck up a conversation with a bookseller, Liz. Liz should have reminded me of a stereotypical librarian – small glasses, whitening hair, a passion for books – but she is not anything like the shushing, stern librarian I knew in grade school. (The librarians I meet nowadays seem to be about breaking those stereotypes). Liz is warm and has a great ability to sense what books will appeal and finds the best about every book.
When I asked Liz if she had anything for adults, she looked me over and then grabbed Speak, Laurie Halse Anderson’s debut novel. What I discovered, when I went home and read it, was that the world of young adult literature had changed from the time I read it as a child. It had become voice-y; it had become an arena for authors to push what was acceptable in literature, both in terms of content and in terms of form.
Two days later, my son and I were back at the store, only this time he had to drag me out, clutching 3 more YA books. Speak snared me. I started reading YA, and lots of it, listening to many of Liz's recommendations. And, now of course, I see it was what got me writing YA.
When I heard that I could meet Laurie Halse Anderson at a reading she gave at the Loft, I pulled every string I could think of to make sure I wouldn’t be just another face at the back of the signing line. One of the Loft’s staff, who has known me for a while, picked up my excitement instantly and suggested that I introduce Laurie instead.
When Laurie arrived and we were introduced, (“Halse, rhymes with Waltz – Halse”), I had to work hard not to gush. But I was rewarded for my self-control because I got to listen to her, not myself. I learned that Ms. Anderson is generous, freely giving me advice on my second book fears and agreeing to an interview, which will be featured on the More on Mondays blog on Monday, August 31.
She looked as I expected: she is slender and seems gentle in her tone. Then when she read to her audience (and make no mistake, it was her audience), she rejected the mic in favor of a strong voice, engaged the audience (answering all their questions, but asking a few of her own) and demonstrated a level of respect for the many students who came to see her.
Most heroes pale upon meeting. Laurie Halse Anderson did not.
Recently, I was sitting in at Harvest Moon CafĂ© with a member of my writer’s group who was complaining about tweets that go something like this: “Swati is eating apples” or “Swati is tired.” Other tweets, he told me, are valuable, such as “I just posted a new blog.” He objects to the idea that every thought someone has needs to be expressed, that it needs to be shared, and that by writing it down, we imply that eating apples is inherently interesting.
As someone who has written those status lines on facebook and who loves reading others’ similar stati, I disagreed. I do like hearing that my cousin, who I only see once every two years, is making posole. It is the only way I have to enter her daily life. I am, like most of us, separated in physical distance to most of the people I am closest to. Twitter or facebook transform that which has disconnected us (a computer in a solitary room) into a source of connection.
Then again, I’m a writer. I love all sorts of communication. And for me, communication is connection.
In this inaugural blog, I’m questioning why should I write this and whether anyone should care if I’ve eaten apples, or even the more inherently interesting experiences like auction day for my contract (more on this later). And I remind myself that this blog is a form of connection to anyone who wishes to read. Whether it’s a blog, a short story, or even a novel, I write to connect, to reach across the distance.
So, welcome to my blog. I hope that you’ll come again to the blog, just to reach back.
I promise not to mention all my culinary delights. This blog will be focused on my writing, the life of a writer, and the process of publication. I will also be featuring interviews with authors, usually young adult authors who have had some sort of influence on me.
Coming soon: Laurie Halse Anderson, multiple award-winner, who was gracious enough to give me my inaugural interview and shortly thereafter, Julie Schumacher.