On Critique Groups and Editors

Here I go again, saying ditto to what Alicia said. Critique groups tend to clean up a lot of errors before the manuscripts land on my desk, which makes my job easier. Writers can learn a lot from a solid critique and from thinking through someone else's raw work. These types of partnerships can ease the isolation of writing and provide some validation for lifestyle choices.

These are all good things.

Alicia, how many times has a writer told you her critiquing partners love her work? I suppose it's a step up from, "My mother loves this!" Critiquers are presumably more adept at evaluating raw work, and they don't have that umbilical -- and wholly subjective -- bond with the writer.

But you know, when I'm making revision notes for a writer, they're usually not optional. There are times I'll toss out a suggestion -- an idea, really, or a brainstormed note -- to see what the writer thinks. In those cases, I usually let them know it's an idea rather than a revision note. And I usually ask for their opinions on those ideas, and maybe we'll chat about the idea a bit. We both have the same goal, to strengthen the manuscript, so this type of exchange can sometimes be quite fruitful.

That's not the same as a revision note. A revision note details something that must be changed in order to bring the manuscript up to standards. I don't mind discussing revision notes because, frankly, there's usually more than one way to peel a potato. Maybe I provide an idea for fixing something, and maybe the writer will have a different idea that accomplishes the same goal. Or maybe, together, we hit on yet another solution that's better than anything we could come up with alone. That's all fine, as long as the underlying problem in the manuscript is resolved.

But when a writer responds to my revision notes with something like, "I won't change that because my critique group liked it," then we have a problem. Your critique group never trumps your editor.

I'm happy to report that few writers make comments like this. That makes it all the more surprising when it does happen. These comments can take many forms -- my best friend says that's her favorite part of the story; my writers' group says I'm a natural storyteller; my high school English teacher never would have marked that -- but they really mean the same thing: there's a problem.

And the solution to that problem, more often than not, is a politely worded rejection letter.

We're Blushing!

We discovered yesterday that edittorrent has been nominated for a Preditors and Editors award.

Alicia has been nominated for a best editor award in the same poll.

We don't know who nominated us, but to whomever did so, thank you! It was very kind of you to think of us!

Also, you should all go vote for Alicia, just so I can watch her figure out a way to make that award fit in with her extremely modest self-image. That would amuse me very much. Plus, she deserves it!

Thank you! Our readers are a constant surprise and delight!
Theresa

More on Voice

One of the reasons voice is so hard to define is that it is affected by both content and presentation. It's what you write, and it's how you write it. I think Alicia has done a fantastic job giving some insights on that, and instead of posting a long chain of "I agree" statements, I thought it might be useful to look at this from another angle. I thought I might share with you some of the things I do when I analyze a piece for voice.

This is a routine part of the editing process. I wouldn't tackle line edits without first making sure I understand something about the voice.

So first, I think about the overall tone of the piece and how it might shift over the course of the story as the scene content changes. Is it generally light and breezy, with brief shifts into something more dramatic? Or is it dark and contemplative throughout? Is the prose direct and clean during action scenes and more stylized during erotic scenes, dream sequences, and the like?

With that in mind, I take a careful look at the actual sentences on the page. I'm looking at:

1. How an author uses verbs and action words. Does she pack them in or use them sparingly?
2. How she handles simultaneous actions.
3. What types of introductory phrases she might throw in to alternate sentence rhythms over the course of a paragraph.
4. Does she use compound sentences? Complex sentences? If so, when and where?
5. How she uses prepositional phrases. Does she chain them or use them sparingly?
6. Adverbs and adjectives. Some love them. Some hate them.
7. Vocabulary. Some writers use very simple language that could be readily grasped by a child. Others make me continually reach for my dictionary to check nuances.
8. How frequently does she name her characters instead of using pronouns?
9. Length of paragraphs, use of offset paragraphing techniques, balance of dialogue to action in paragraphs.
10. Sentence subjects. Is the subject always a character? How frequently is the subject something other than a character?

All of these things, and probably more I can't think of at the moment, contribute to the mechanical aspects of voice. And I have to understand these things in order to complete a line edit in what we hope will be a competent fashion.

Let me give you an example. Say an author starts her sentence with a present participial phrase containing an action which should be sequential and which cannot modify the subject. Alicia, I'm going to borrow your classic example here:

Tying her shoes, Mary ran up the stairs.

My goodness, but Mary is talented. I can barely walk and think at the same time, and here she is running and tying her shoes at the same time.

What the writer means to say is that first Mary tied her shoes, and then she ran up the stairs. These actions are sequential, but they are presented as simultaneous. Not only that, but participial phrases are modifiers, and this reads as if it's not intended to be a modifier but a verb.

To edit this, I would want to understand how the author generally handles sequential actions. Does she use compound verbs? Or does she prefer compound sentences? I would try to stay closer to her first preference. If doing so creates other problems in the prose -- such as repetitive sentence structures -- then I might reach for her second choice. Whatever I do, when fixing the error, I would be doing it in a way that preserves voice.

Theresa

Critique groups -- Alicia

Supposedly, editors don't like critique groups, because they "mess up your voice" or something. Well, I like critique groups, or at least good ones. (If yours does mess up your voice-- well, 1) Maybe your voice isn't as great as you hoped, and you should listen to them, or 2) Maybe you should get a better critique group.)

What I like is manuscripts that someone else has already read. They're usually more readable. Manuscripts that have been critiqued seldom come to me all in italics, for example. And critique groups do tend to point out the glaring plot flaw in the first chapter, and probably a lot of typos too. So I actually prefer manuscripts that have been through the critique wringer.

I am in a critique group myself, though I'm not writing much. (It's a great group, and I don't want to drop out and lose my place. :) What I've learned is that crit groups are like marriages-- some are bad and some are good, and you'd really rather be in the good one.

The critique group will be most helpful if you know what you need. For example, I'm an editor. I really don't need much in the way of "late concern assessment," as the writing teachers say. I better be able to edit my own stuff, since I edit the work of others. So I never bring an "almost-final" draft to critique group. My need is much earlier, in the plotting and fleshing out characters part. I don't have much of an imagination (cue all those editor jokes, you know, about how we wouldn't know creative if it bit us :), and have to be prompted to move out of the conventional. My crit groupers are always saying, "You know, it would be more fun if...." when they read my scene outlines.

But others might want help achieving more power in their scenes, or smoothing out the ragged edges of their voice, or discovering when they've drifted out of point of view or forced a character to do something out of character.

I think critique groups are most useful when you know what lack they'll fill in your writing process-- and when you find the group that fills it.

How big should a group be? Again, that's a matter of preference. I hate large group critiques, you know, when you read your scene and 15 people tell you what's wrong with it. That makes me feel very bad. But others love getting many different perspectives. Personally, I go for a 5-7 person group. That's enough that someone always has something to present, and yet it's not so much that you spent 50 hours a week critiquing. But I think it might take some experimenting to find the size and composition that suits you.

I do know this much-- if a group makes you feel bad, if you leave the meeting thinking you should just quit writing, it's not the group for you. Not that groups should be mindlessly supportive, but they should "critique, not criticize"-- pointing out what's good and great as well as what needs work.

In my other life, I tutor in a writing center at a university, and I keep realizing one truth over and over: Few of us can absorb more than 4 suggestions at a sitting. (I don't mean 4 pointing out of misspellings, but 4 separate and distinct suggestions.) So don't be scared if you find yourself shutting down after a few comments. Take notes-- don't protest. Later you can go over your notes and pick out the three or four things you want to work on in your revision.


Some writers don't want critique groups-- they don't want the hassle or don't have the time. That's fine-- in that case, I suggest that you find a friend who is a reader, not a writer, and ask that person to read your proposal IN YOUR PRESENCE, and do a running commentary as she reads, while you take notes.


But yes, I believe in critique groups. The editor shouldn't be the first non-you to see your proposal, and you shouldn't rely on editors to critique your work. First, that is not what we're paid for. Second, the pleasant (I hope :) rejection letter you receive from an editor very often doesn't comment much at all-- the editor isn't going to list all seven things that she didn't like. So editors aren't going to do a useful critique. Third, who wants to get a reputation for submitting less than the best work possible?

Theresa, what do you say? Pro or con crit groups?

Alicia

More about narrative- POV

1) He jerked his hand back from the fence, realizing his palm was scorched.
2) Painted wood scorched his palm.

So let's look at those two. As I said, I think the second one is an attempt to replicate the experience of the Point of view character from the inside, so concentrating on feeling/perception.

However, even in deep POV, you need to narrate action. The character has to do something, or he's going to seem awfully passive, just standing there with his hand being scorched. :) And the character not only intends most actions- that is, would think about doing something-- but also would notice if he did something reflexively, like jerking his scorched hand away from the heat.

Plus the mind really does automatically identify things. Most of us wouldn't look at a surround of connected wood slats pointing up in a backyard and think, "Oh. Painted wood." We'd think, "Oh. Fence." Our perceptions are very much trained into language after the age of 4 or so. So to me that "painted wood" part seems a bit precious, perhaps because it sounds like something a young child would say-- since once we're out of toddlerhood, most of us really do have immediate access to our vocabulary of objects. (Except for me. I've been known to wave a magazine around and say, "What do you call this thing again? Oh! Right! Magazine!")

(One picky note-- what sort of painted wood fence gets hot enough to scorch his hand anyway?)

But there's no doubt that deep POV depends on narrating from the inside, relating the character's unique perceptions and feelings as well as his actions.

So let's break this down. Here are the levels of POV (which don't always come into play all at once):

Action -- What he does, either deliberately or not
Perception-- What he perceives around him
Thought-- What he thinks, wonders, muses, intends
Emotion-- What he feels emotionally, and also what he won't let himself consciously feel

---

Now let's look at the event.

Hero puts his hand on a fence, for whatever reason. :)
Fence is very hot and scorches his hand.
He jerks his hand back.

We've got perception and action there. I think both are needed. If we just put:
He put his hand on the fence and jerked it back.
... the reader won't know why.

If we just have perception:

The fence scorched his hand.

...the reader will wonder how his hand got on the fence, and what idiot would just stand there and not jerk his hand back.

So how can we narrate this?

Tom (I need a name :)

Tom grabbed the fencepost, which was hot and scorched his hand. He jerked back and looked down at the blisters rapidly forming on his palm.

Okay, inelegant in the extreme. Also I added a second perception-- he looks down at the blisters.

Now let's consider adding thought. This is not a mere lower-level animal who merely perceives and acts. He also thinks. So what is he thinking? I doubt he thinks, "This is hot! Take my hand away!" because his action really is going to be reflexive, bypassing thought. But before and after that perception/action pair, there is going to be some thought.

Like...


Musing about the nature of physical reality, Tom grabbed the fencepost, which was hot and scorched his hand. He jerked back and looked down at the blisters rapidly forming on his palm. He decided he should pay more attention to the actual physical reality around him when he mused.

Okay, now he's thinking!

How about emotion? Can we add that?
Musing about the nature of physical reality, Tom grabbed the fencepost, which was hot and scorched his hand. He jerked back and looked down at the blisters rapidly forming on his palm. He decided he should pay more attention to the actual physical reality around him when he mused. How could he have been so stupid? He hated himself. He wished he could die and be reincarnated as a garden slug.

There's some emotion. :)

The problem with stream-of-consciousness is, done badly, it reduces human beings into mere nerve endings-- able to perceive but not act, think, or emote, not to mention decide, intend, love, hate, all that good stuff.

So it's useful to be reminded to narrate from the inside out -- what does this character see, feel, hear? But that "scaffolding" of narrative is a conventional way, I think, to convey what ELSE is going on, both inside the character and outside, as the character experiences and not just perceives it. Experience includes thought, emotion, and action too!

Alicia

Voice definition #1

Yes, ma’am. Should we start by defining voice? And we ought to talk a little about critiquing groups and editors, too. Editors ≠ CPs!
Theresa

Okay, I'll start. Voice is the unique way through words this piece of writing expresses a worldview, attitude, mood, tone, and purpose.

What's important here is it's the way a piece of writing expresses all those. That is, I don't think "voice" is necessarily an authorial-exclusive entity. Many authors vary their voices from story to story. Many write through the voices of their characters.

But anyway, I think voice has much more going on than diction (word choice). Worldview, for example. There are books where the worldview is profoundly pessismistic (dystopias, for example), and that comes through in the voice. If it's a comedy, it will be a dark comedy, full of grimmer terminology and gallows humor, not a light romp full of slapstick and gentle humor.

I don't believe this voice thing is entirely conscious, but I definitely think you can rationally revise to refine your voice. I also think that a few moments of focus before you write can help you generate the voice if it doesn't come out as you write.

That is, if you feel that your story is "voice-less" or bland, next time before you start to write, sit down and close your eyes and imaginatively immerse yourself in the world of the book. Envision a couple scenes; slide into the consciousness of the main character. Start to write with the feeling of the book looming over you.

Also try this: Put on music that "feels" like the book.

My son has been writing a romantic comedy screenplay, and he said he's listened to Bruce Springsteen's new song "Girls in Their Summer Clothes" on "repeat" for weeks now as he writes. He says the buoyancy of the melody and the romantic lyrics make the dialogue and emotion flow better.

Alicia

Scaffolding

No, I don't know what the term means either-- never heard it. But from the example, "He jerked his hand back from the fence, realizing his palm was scorched" to "Painted wood scorched his palm" -- I'd say that scaffolding it the "meta" framework of the narrative, the "he did this, he realized that" that has suddenly become persona non grata among some authors. :)

The "Painted wood scorched his palm," is, I think, an effort to describe this from the inside, as if we ARE the character, so feeling is narrated before action. (Presumably after the scorching, he jerked his hand back?)

So it's "deep POV," trying to give the reader the stream of consciousness experience of being inside the character's body, and making the narrative reflect that experience.

Well, let's ask. Which do you all prefer as readers?
1) He jerked his hand back from the fence, realizing his palm was scorched.
2) Painted wood scorched his palm.

Notice that the "scaffolded" version emphasizes action, while the "un-scaffolded" version emphasizes feeling/perception.

Also a question-- does it matter that this jerking back, however narrated, is likely to be reflexive (you don't think, "My hand is being scorched; therefore, I will remove it from the hot object"-- you just jerk the hand away perhaps without even consciously realizing you're getting burned.

Would it be different if it were a chosen action, like:
She yanked hard on the worn wooden gate, and it creaked open.
(other version) The worn wooden gate creaked open under her hand.
Alicia

Poll Results and a Contest

Here are the results of the poll in which we asked which topics you'd prefer us to talk about.

23 (46%) Structure
22 (44%) Common Errors
19 (38%) Plotting
18 (36%) Characterization
17 (34%) Sentence Mechanics
16 (32%) Conflict
15 (30%) Voice
14 (28%) Submissions Pointers
8 (16%) Point of View

There are a few surprises here. When I created the list of topics, I thought the winning topics would be character, plotting, voice and point of view. I thought character and plotting would be the choice of beginning and intermediate students of writing, and voice and point of view would be the choice of those who've already earned a few battle scars in the business. Point of view, especially, because so often that's what separates a yes from an almost yes when we're wading through the slush.

Shows you what I know.

I didn't think anyone would care about structure and added it in just because it's a pet topic of mine. Surprise, surprise, it was your first choice. So I guess we'll be talking about structure in the near future. That's lucky for me. I can talk about structure for days without even pausing to draw breath. You are all in for it now!

I threw common errors and submissions pointers onto the list because I figured Alicia and I know something about that, and we might be able to provide some service to the writing community by sharing our insights. To me these are companion topics, yet one was the second most popular and the other was the second least chosen.

So there you have it. A few surprises, one big lucky break for me, and a menu of topics which should carry us forward for quite some time.

Contest Announcement

Alicia and I also want to encourage people to ask questions and speak freely. So we thought, to follow up our very general poll about topics, we'd run a little contest to further our goal of building an interactive community here

Our friend Todd Stone wrote a terrific book called Novelists Boot Camp: 101 Ways to Take Your Book From Boring to Bestseller. This is a very practical, hands-on book with useful "drills" and a twelve-week plan for writing a complete novel. His book captures the same spirit we hope to achieve in this blog: light on the artsy-fartsy, heavy on the how-to. Well, you know, except for the whole military thing. Todd might be a doughboy, but I'm just doughy.

Todd has been gracious enough to allow us to give away a signed copy of his excellent book. To enter, please email us a writing question at edittorrent at gmail dot com. In addition to your writing question, please include your full name and how we should contact you if you win. We can notify you by return email if that's your preference, but if you do win, we'll need a mailing address to send you the book. Also, just to eliminate any privacy concerns, if we do answer your question on the blog, we'll refer to you by first name only.

Why are we doing this? Well, first, we think Todd wrote a great book and everyone should know about it. Second, even though Alicia and I could carry on talking and never run out of topics, we don't want this blog to lose sight of the people who might be inclined to read it. There are a lot of you out there -- in fact, I'm still amazed by the response to this little blog.

And that's our third reason for doing this. It's just our way of saying thanks.

Don't forget to check out Todd's website!

Theresa

Responses to Comments: Scaffolding

Today is the first official day back after a holiday, and even though I worked quite a bit last week, not everyone else did. Now most of us are back at it, and it appears as though most of us are not too happy about that. The prevailing weather today is partly crabby with the chance of occasional panics, with flurries of e-mails continuing all day and probably into the night.

Here's hoping tomorrow is sunnier.

Way back when we were talking about polluted nose holes, Shalanna said two things worth addressing. First, she said,

I don't know what they mean by the buzzword "scaffolding," anyhow. That might be an interesting subject for one of your entries. (An example of "removing scaffolding" from a sentence is, apparently, changing it from "He jerked his hand back from the fence, realizing his palm was scorched" to "Painted wood scorched his palm." I think the first phrasing makes sense on first reading, whereas I had to re-read the second version to see what was really going on.


You got me, Shalanna. I don’t know what scaffolding is, either. Must be some new term they’ve cooked up in the years since I finished my fancy-pants creative writing degree and was learning all the jargon. I could guess, but I might guess wrong, so I’ll just back away quietly from this one. Alicia, you have any ideas on this?

I think the most significant difference between your two sentences is not the structural change but the potential impact on point of view. In the first, the viewpoint character is the subject and is taking the actions. In the second, we’re distanced from the point of view character’s viewpoint, and the whole thing feels disembodied. In context, the second sentence might work. Out of context, it seems wrong.

Point of view is an extremely tricky subject. The basics are easily grasped -- first person takes an “I” narrator, head-hopping can be disruptive without proper transitions, and so on -- but beyond those basics, there are many tiny ways a writer can break point of view. Be vigilant for any moment which strays outside your viewpoint character’s direct experience. There are times when you can and should stray, but an action as dramatic and immediate as pulling his hand away from a fire is probably not one of those times.

Shalanna also shares this anecdote.

I was once in a crit group that insisted I must change the lines
_The kitchen stank of burnt piecrust_
to
_The stench of burnt piecrust assaulted her nostrils_
I quit the group the next week.

To which I can only give the kind of linear, direct response such a story warrants: Smart writer. Very smart indeed.


Alicia said,
Theresa, at some point, we should talk about voice, and how it's no more "natural" than Maria Callas's singing voice. :)

Yes, ma’am. Should we start by defining voice? And we ought to talk a little about critiquing groups and editors, too. Editors ≠ CPs!