Reenie got me thinking about critiques today, specifically peer critiques of fiction.
As a technical writer and editor, I used to give and take strong, pointed, and mind-numbingly detailed critiques. That made sense, because what my coworkers and I wrote sometimes involved life or death safety procedures, or processes in which expensive equipment could be damaged if something wasn’t done right. We had to be precise, and could not leave room for interpretation or confuse anyone. There was no gray area. So I steeled myself and went through the review process. I found I could keep my emotions completely out of it, because I knew what was at stake, and it wasn’t about me. I always learned something.
Fiction is different — except that part about always learning something. I don’t like giving or taking fiction critiques. My fiction is all me. It’s my baby, and I don’t care how far removed from my real life the plot and characters are, a lot of my feelings, ideas, and experiences go into any story I write. It’s possible I have a serious problem with self-esteem in regard to my fiction, too, first because I was a beginner and now because I’ve worked at it so long without much recognition and no financial reward (I’ve made a little money, but have never made my expenses). When I receive criticism, it tends to confuse me or depress me. This has simply taken far too long to not have gotten it right yet. Even worse, it tends to inject the critique-giver’s voice into my head while I write, and I have my own internal editor thank you, so when I get this internal battle waging it can stop me in my tracks, interrupt the whole writing process. Maybe it’s too important to me. Maybe I’m too sensitive, too impressionable, or my creative flow and enthusiasm are too fragile at some stages of the process. Maybe some of us just don’t take artistic critique well, period. There’s no moral or personal flaw in that, and not all critique is worth taking anyway. How do you tell which is worth taking? There’s a lot of gray area in fiction, and human nature is involved, in the story, in the critique, and in my response to it.
Even the worst critiques can appear to have their value. I’ve come across past critiques that I perceived as unbearably scathing when I received them, but when I look at them after the passage of time, in some cases years, I find they weren’t so bad. Now I see where my writing has improved and matured, and places where those critiques were spot-on in pointing out a weakness. I see where they paid me compliments that I couldn’t see as compliments back then, I was so wrapped up in my emotions and, sometimes, my denial about my writing’s flaws. Writing is a lot of work. It never feels good to invest that kind of time and energy, and then be told what you’ve done is flawed. But what is the value in a critique that I can’t bring myself to read objectively at the time I receive it? Let me note here that just writing this post, which I’m doing today in a positive, confident mood, would be nearly impossible for me right after I receive almost any fiction critique. The critique process always rubs my emotions raw.
Does all this balking at the critique process make me unprofessional? Well, I’ve read of some well-known authors who’ve avoided critiques from anyone but their agents or editors. Still, agents like to know we’ve had work peer-reviewed before we submit to them, especially if we’re unpublished or unknowns. Who can blame them? They’re taking a gamble on a new writer, agreeing to invest their own time and energy. A publisher will invest money. Willingness to get a peer review indicates that we’re serious about always improving and shooting for a level of professionalism — and it’s a good indicator that we’ll accept the agent’s or editor’s revision suggestions. But there’s also no reason we have to take all the advice given in any peer review, or any of it, especially if it strips the story of its heart. It’s important to remember the stakeholders will always be more important to listen to, including the writer herself. Added to that, the best response to any critique is to give it time and emotional distance, something most of us find next to impossible to do. We humans are sensitive creatures.
1.
I’ve never submitted my writing for a critique. I’m too thin-skinned for one thing and too ready to believe I can’t write. Would I be a better writer or more successful if I had sought out more criticism? Or even attended a workshop. Maybe. More likely I would’ve been discouraged from writing entirely.
Then too, who is qualified to criticize? From what I’ve seen the people who give the impression they know the most about writing, and think they know the most, often know practically nothing. Or the critic might be looking for something completely different from what I want to write. I suppose if you want to sell an sf story it might help you to go to a workshop where the very editors who are buying are teaching the style they want. If all you want is to make a sale and never mind expressing yourself in your own way.
I have taken criticism, however, from editors, after an article or story or book has been sold. That sort of criticism I can handle because the editor has already said that he or she likes the writing by buying it and is only aiming to make it better. And an editor is certainly qualified to criticize, particularly one who has the good taste to like my work!
I’ve learned a lot from that kind of criticism.
As for the other critiques — aside from my other misgivings, I would, as you say, be confused. Everyone has their own way of doing things.
Remember, I never sold a story, even as a co-author, until I was in my forties. Decades of rejection can make one overly sensitive. However, even after decades, even soldiering on without the benefit of critiques, it is possible to finally sell something. There’s nothing wrong with wrestling with your writing by yourself.
Comment by Eric Mayer — July 4, 2007 @ 5:12 pm
2.
Maybe if you think of your writing as a vessel for your self/heart/soul/emotions, rather than actually yourself, you will approach critiques differently. Actors and dancers can actually say they are their art—their bodies are the medium of the work—but the rest of us employ some physical object as a conveyance of our expressions. And I think we can all take a lesson from actors, dancers, and visual artists and musicians in both giving and accepting criticism.
The goal of criticism should be to make the work stronger, not to weaken the artist. Strong writing communicates. Weak writing draws attention to itself. The two main weaknesses I want to avoid is writing does not make sense, so that the reader consciously wonders what I am trying to say, or writing that pushes the reader toward an emotional reaction (tells) rather than elicits a real, honest emotion (shows). If my writing contains one of those weaknesses, I want to know about it.
To return to the theater remark, a director is constantly critiquing her actors—telling them when a tone of voice, a gesture, a look, is untrue to the character or misrepresents the intention of the story. I think because the act of writing is solitary, we are removed from the kind of critique that is an inherent component of creating performance art. But we do ourselves—and our readers—a favor by learning to accept and give thoughtful criticism. We make the work stronger and the experience of the work more enjoyable.
Comment by judy b. — July 4, 2007 @ 8:19 pm
3.
Yes, you need feedback and so must develop a crusty shell-if nothing else, it will prepare you for the publishing world. However, I’ve found that even while I enjoyed hearing what critiquers had to say, for the most part, all I gleaned from it was how different people read differently the very same thing. If you have more than a few complaining about the same phrase or idea, then you do have to take a long look at it for they’re probably right. You also have to know and trust the people who are offering their opinions-much said should be disregarded.
I’ll never forget the older lady who, in critiqueing a poem of mine, saw the woman driving down her street and admiring a huge tree. In fact, the woman was suicidal and heading for the the tree.
Many workshopping groups like to rewrite your story as they want to see it. These you consider and if it doesn’t suit your plot, scrap. Others are nitpicky about what they’ve learned in writing classes and taken as written in stone, i.e., action in the opening page, conflict, immediate plot, etc. They’re used to writing what they’ve been reading and mimicking that style as the sacred rule. These too, you forget about.
So my suggestion is to get involved with either a good group or just a few friends that enjoy reading, some preferably wise about the ways of writing, and this will serve the purpose of general audience appeal as well as professional input.
Comment by susan — July 5, 2007 @ 5:58 am
4.
“strong, pointed, and mind-numbingly detailed critiques”
My thought, as a tech writer: if you want your critique to be effective (so that equipment and/or lives are saved), wouldn’t it be better not to numb the mind of the other writer? It’s like overdoing warnings and cautions in user materials: you want to warn them of the hazards, the consequences, and how to avoid them, but if you give them too much text the message can easily get lost. Maybe the lawyers will be happy, but the users are ill-served.
As for the acceptance of non-fiction vs fiction critiques, for me all my writing is self-expression, at some level. Even if I’m writing up information that is supplied to me, the way it’s written is still an expression of how I chose to render the information as text — my “creative” solution to a particular problem of communication, my way of telling “the story”. If it doesn’t get across, it doesn’t work. Same thing for fiction, I think. Even for poetry. If it’s just something that you alone like or understand, well, that’s a kind of onanism, isn’t it?
Comment by Milan Davidovic — July 5, 2007 @ 6:58 pm
5.
I have, for the most part, found critiques to be very helpful. I have rejoiced with perceptive, intelligent, objective input. Good critiques have helped me enormously. Given that… I think it is my responsibility to choose wisely – not look for someone who will lavish flattery, nor some blowhard that likes to show off with smug crapola. I have found a few trusted readers – people I know I will get honest and helpful feedback. *sigh* It’s when my ego gets involved that I stray from my trusted readers and I am probably deserving of the backlash. lol Also, of great importance, I have hired readers on occasion. Their input has been worth every penny – and I know there is no hidden agenda.
Wow! Isn’t it amazing the passion this subject generates. Thanks, Barbara, for the courage to address it.
I recently had a bad experience and for the zillionth time, learned my lesson. 
Comment by Reenie — July 6, 2007 @ 5:18 am