Character Thoughts, Revision, and Guiding Principles

There's another good post over at Edittorrent. This one looks at character, which I'm all about this month, and I've started thinking about it in relation to Cass. I have a pretty good idea about her first principle and how it gets her into trouble. As I work on revision, I'm thinking about ways I can draw that out a little more to help solidify her character and especially to make her more sympathetic, which is a struggle I'm having.

At the last meeting, Jenny commented on a few portions of the sub which I had missed when I was switching a scene over to 3rd person from 1st. Believe it or not, Jenny liked the 1st person better. Even though I've changed things over so the reader isn't in Cass's head, it seems I need to get them in there anyway. Jenny, ever helpful, suggested I re-write the whole thing to 1st person, and do it in two months. She smiled when she said it, too. How evil is that?

Problem Solving

Today feels like a good day for a piggy back post, so I'm going to go off of Deb's post about last night's CWC meeting. One of the best things about a critique group that works is that problems get solved. There are always problems in drafts, whether it's a character, a scene, or bit of dialogue, there are things that need fixing. That's why it's called a draft, right?

Last night I was on the chopping block for the 2nd submission of the Cass book, and I knew the gang was going to comment on one particular thing. As part of getting people where they needed to be, I had to figure out a reason for them to be at a funeral, despite it being dangerous for one of the characters to be out in public. I thought about it, and played around with it, and tried so hard to figure out a good reason to get them all there. The best I could come up with wasn't really a good reason, but I couldn't figure anything else out.

When it came to my turn to get critiqued, Jenny started. Basically, she said, "Yeah, this part... it's not working."

I said, "Tell me about it."

Then Shane said, "Well, what if..." And there it was, exactly what I needed. It was simple, it was perfect, and I never even got close to figuring it out on my own. Writers groups can be a beautiful, beautiful thing.

Under the Chopping Block

A while back, I announced they were doing line edits over at Edittorrent, and today they did mine. It feels pretty cool to have gotten a once-over by a pro, even if it's just a paragraph. ^_^

Thanksgiving In the Garage

This semester Amanda is taking a creative non-fiction class. A few days ago, she asked me to look at one of her pieces. I asked her about what kind of feedback she'd like, so I had guidelines on how grammatical, blunt, etc. to be. Amanda said, "Be gentle."

This morning I read a story she wrote about her family and Thanksgiving. I made minimal marks and those marks were just lines beside things that stuck out to me, no actual words. Then we chatted about 'em. I went gently.

Biggest victory of the chat was adjusting her story telling structure and, my favorite, naming it. She had a title, but it didn't quite fit. When I asked her why she titled it that, she kinda shrugged and said she has a hard time with titles.

"Okay," I said. "When you think about this story, what's the biggest thing that sticks in your mind?"

"My aunt continuing to eat the stuffing, even though she kept complaining about it."

"But that's something that happened that day, not something you wrote on the page. On the page, what sticks out to you?"

"Me and my brother sitting in the garage."

"That's perfect!"

You see, the story starts off with Amanda having a conversation with her mom about why Amanda can't host Thanksgiving this year (because the only place there's room is in the garage). Then you go back a few years to Thanksgiving at Amanda's parents' and there's an argument going on over dinner. To escape, Amanda and her brother duck into the garage. It's beautifully parallel.

I feel like helping Amanda get a new title (a perfect title, if I do say so myself) is my biggest accomplishment for today. I just can't help wondering if that might be a bad sign.

The Perfection Problem: Part 2, Responding to It

This morning I pulled out my newly printed & compiled thesis (which has its own dedicated binder) and a purple pen.

One of my new stories, "The Honeymoon of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Roux" was one that just kept getting longer as I wrote it. It's the longest of the collection, coming in at about 25 pages. As I wrote it, I had things I thought I needed to go back to and write more on. There was a moment when I wondered to myself just how long this thing needed to be in order for it to work.

This morning, I started with that story. It took me a while to read through it and make revision notes. However, I tackled this revision differently than I have in the past. For starters, and I have a hard time admitting this for fear of sounding silly, as I read, I imagined how Neil Gaiman would read it. I kept his voice, his pacing, his intonation in my mind. Because, let's face it, a good reader can make just about anything sound good.

As I read through the story with Neil's voice in my head and the mindset that I ought to ease up on myself, a lovely thing happened. This story, which I kept thinking was so sketched and rough, didn't seem so bad. I could see some the machinery behind the story working (i.e. plot points that connect like they ought) and I was able to lean back a little and just like my work. It was cool.

That said, I made notes on every single page about things to edit. When I get my critiques on it from the gang in the CWC and Juan, I'm sure there will be more things that need my attention. So, I'm not saying it's perfect as is. Rather, I'm saying that I'm letting myself like it for its own sake instead of focusing so much on what's wrong with it.

Part way through October, and I find myself applying my "nuts & bolts" fiction study having different results than I expected. Instead of giving me some technical, or stylistic, thing to try, it's giving me a different kind of mindset. The biggest thing I'm getting out of this so far is to trust myself more.

It's refreshing, to say the least.

The Perfection Problem: Part 1, Naming It

I'm about half of the way through The Graveyard Book right now, and I keep thinking about the reading Neil did. I'm also beginning to buckle down on my initial thesis revisions. I like having the two in my mind at the same time.

I'm a huge Neil Gaiman fan, and I've been asking myself why. The thing is, it's not really because of how elegantly he writes. Let's face it, he doesn't write all that elegantly at all. Neil's prose is pretty simple and straight forward. On the way back, Deb and I were talking about how bad he'd get dinged in a critique group for his frequent use of "was." But, that's the thing, sometimes "was" is the right word, passive tense or not.

In a critique group, we're so focused on trying to make things perfect that we sometimes work too hard on finding things to fix. There have been plenty of times when I've talked with someone about something that was not only published, but even acclaimed or award-winning, and we've talked about the fact that said author would have been criticized in a critique group for one thing or another in that piece.

"But, it's a prize winning author!" You say. "They've done it just fine." And you're absolutely right.

The critique group danger is always thinking there's something to fix. Don't get me wrong, there's often plenty to fix and many ways to make something stronger. But, as soon as we work too hard to make something "perfect" we start squeezing out the character of the thing we're writing/revising/critiquing.

Right now I recognize in my own writing this struggle for the perfect. I've wandered away from the land of the happy medium and into the land of "if it isn't perfect, it's not worth it." Time to make a figurative U-turn.

Finally...

This past week or so I sent Jenny two e-mails, gently remining her that I was still waiting on the rest of FJR. The first one gets no response (apparently, the nudging from me resulted in a lack of love on her part) and then, suddenly, I get an e-mail that has the final 24 pages.

In the past couple of days, I've been thinking of how I have a couple of weeks ahead of me which I get to fill with reading fun things instead of school things. Kid in a candy shop, right? I haven't made it to the library yet, but I was already trying to decide where I'd start. Well, now Jenny's solved that dilemma for me 'cause now I know I'm going to start with FJR. I've just gotta grab my blue pen and then I'm off.

The Race is On

I've been threatening Jenny that I'm going to read what I have of FJR as quick as I can and give her grief if she doesn't have the last chapters ready for me by the time I catch up. Admittedly, I've been saying this partly to uphold my demonic reputation.

However, it's mostly a warning instead of a threat. I don't expect it to take me long to get through the 200+ pages. Jenny's a good writer and I've got the manuscript of a novel I like. Yesterday I took the manuscript with me to the terrible class and got through page 44. Up to this point, I've read it all already, and I'm making a lot of the same notes I remember making on another copy of the manuscript she gave me a while back (no edits between the two, apparently). I expect I'll slow down a bit once I strike into the new part, but I'll certainly have it read by the next group meeting.

Now, Jenny's got those of us who volunteered to read the whole novel split into two groups - her first readers and second, post-edit, readers - in order to save some money on copies. What she doesn't know yet (but will as soon as she reads this) is that I plan to be in both groups. My campus printing account has lots and lots of pages left, so all she'll need to do is e-mail it to me. (Hint, hint, Jenny).

I suppose I'm starting to sound a bit possessive here, but I have a hard time apologizing for it. She knows that I wouldn't get possessive if I didn't like the book, and who's going to turn down a bonus (and free) extra reader/proof reader? Exactly.

About the Notebook Switching...

As I worked on the La Llarona story, I started in a place of ambiguity (image of the woman at the bus stop, idea of a boy, but little more) and worked toward something more definite. Mid-WM, I figured out where I wanted the story to go. Then, Jenny and I switched notebooks and she took it someplace else. All I told her when she asked where it should go was, "Something spooky." That's what she did. Of course, since she's not psychic, how was she to know that she was doing it wrong?

I read what she wrote and my reaction was, "But that contradicts my plan, I can't use it." Then I thought, "I love this description here, though." Then, "And she did good with the spookiness." Bit by bit, I started thinking about what she did and about the real La Llarona story and what I was trying to do with the story. Bit by bit, I realized that although Jenny derailed my original train of thought, said derailing was exactly what I needed.

In a way, it's kind of like getting a pre-emptive critique. I imagine what would have happened when the group critiqued my original story, and I imagine their criticisms would suggest to do precisely what Jenny did for me.

Sometimes, it takes someone else to show us where the story is really going, especially when it's really going a different direction than we had planned. I can think of a couple of times this has happened to me, how about you? Any thoughts on collaboration? Has Jenny ever ruined one of your stories?

A Novel Trend

"Two pages does not a chapter make."
-Critique of my first novel submissions

When I first started submitting Oracle to the group, I had major pacing problems. Now, a couple of years later, I realize that I'm not the only one. In our big batch of group submisions there were two new novels being newly submitted. Both are rushed, and they aren't the only writers who've come through the group to do this. Weird.

I can't help but wonder what the big rush is. Are we just in a hurry to get done so we can say we've done it? Are we trying to pace ourselves and not put too much into one chapter for fear of neglecting the others? Is it an issue of being intimidated by writing something novel length? Or, are we just trying to cram too much in?

What helped me was making the novel into a movie in my head, then trying to translate that movie into what I wrote. The firmer things like scenery, props, gestures, costuming, etc. were in my head, the better I was at expanding scenes and slowing the heck down. It goes back to that idea of "show, don't tell." I had to show people the movie in my head, vs. tell them the story about the movie. That was my lightbulb moment. It still took a few months of practice before I could get the pacing about right, but I did get there.

Now we have two more people telling us about the movie, and getting them to show it will be quite the trick. Anyone have thoughts on other ways to explain pacing?

Criticising Babies

*Big eyeballs*
-The Group, as the pile of submissions grew and grew

What happens when there are five weeks between writers' group meetings? Well, everyone has plenty of time to do four critiques and then do a ton of writing. Yesterday pretty much everyone had something to submit. In one case, he had two somethings, but we managed to talk him down. We all went home with what is, as far as I can remember, the biggest pile of submissions since I've been in the group. It'll be an interesting month of reading and critiquing all of them.

Also interesting was how the gal who's a newer member, and first time submitter, came up to me after the meeting and told me she was scared of my impending critique. Jenny's too, but mostly mine. Good to know I'm still striking fear into the hearts of people. I never tried to create this evil-incarnate reputation, I swear. (Let me add, though, that when I joked about being mean, she corrected me, "Not mean, honest." She sounded no less anxious, though.)

Of course, this gal's comment about how the novel she's beginning to submit is her baby, combined with her anxiety, briefly raised the question: "Should I go easy on her?" For me, it's not a yes/no answer. If it were, it'd be "no," but it's a bit more layered than that. When I'm critiquing, I try to gear my comments toward the specific writer and their sensitivity.

I'm always honest, but with certain people I limit my criticisms to a few points, whereas with others I just let it all out. I'm much harder on Jenny than just about anyone else. I also know that my toughness with her 1. won't give her a nervous breakdown, 2. will be helpful. See, that second point is the most important one.

Someone who's letting their "baby" out in public for the first time isn't going to be helped by a nit-picky critique. Also, there's the global vs. local argument: Why bother pointing out typos when the whole paragraph is going to be rewritten, or possibly cut?

When it comes to the new gal, I can honestly say I have no intention of going "easy" on her. However, I'm not going to critique her the way I'd critique Oliver either. It's all about trying to do the most good for each person, right? An in-exact science, to be sure, but one worth trying.

Do the rest of y'all do the same thing?

From the Author Herself: A Visit From Nalo Hopkinson

"The New Moon's Arms wasn't much your cup of tea, I gather. :)"
-Nalo Hopkinson

Some time ago, I posted a review of this book on my other blog, http://ev-boulevard.blogspot.com/2007/06/new-moons-arms.html, never expecting it to attract the attention of the author herself. It's kinda cool. Of course, she disagrees with some of my comments. She even defends herself a bit, though she never gets outright defensive. I appreciate that, because there are few things I dislike more than a writer who listens to/reads my critique of their work and then proceeds to not only disagree with me but say/imply that my opinion is totally invalid. So, even if I wasn't a fan of the novel, I can respect her for staying professional in her response.

Which brings me to another point - why defend herself to me? Sure, I didn't care for this book she sweated and bled over, but so? Am I really that important? I'm just one reader. I mean, come on, if I had a dollar for every critique I've received that was along the lines of, "This just didn't work for me," I'd have a lot of dollars. Plenty of other people liked it, and more power to them. I'm just one small fish in a very big pond. Not that I'm complaining, mind you - I'm feeling kinda flattered that an award winning writer not only read my critique of their book, but also took a few minutes to respond to it. That's pretty nifty. It's definitely one of the most interesting things that've happened to me lately.

You can find Nalo's blog here: http://carlbrandon.org/blog/index.html

Taking Feedback (Ownership)

"I have to wait a few days, until after I stop hating the people who said it's not perfect, before I can go back to a piece and start to agree with them."
-paraphrase, Jenny

Okay, I've talked about how I give feedback/criticism. It's only fair to talk about how I take it. The truth, you may be disappointed to know, is that I'm usually not bothered by it. My character's motivation isn't clear? Okay, I'll fix it. I've got a logic problem? Oops. Better change that. You hate it with a passion? Hrm... dunno if there's anything I can do about that.

Jenny calls it my poker face. I talk very little when I'm getting critiques. On one hand, because anything I didn't make clear in the piece, as it's written, isn't going to get any clearer in the piece, as it's written, if I explain it verbally. On the other, let's be honest: it doesn't matter what I have to say about it. As soon as I ask other people to read a story, it doesn't belong to me anymore. Said story belongs to the reader. If I wanted to keep it, I should have kept it to myself.

In this perspective, anyone is completely justified in thinking/saying whatever they want about my work, because it's their story now. Sound extreme? Perhaps. Be an English major for a while, that'll help. It doesn't matter what Hemingway thought about Hills Like White Elephants because we own it now, not him. So, I think the reviewing process from that angle. Anything I write needs to be able to stand without me.

I admit, I'm not always passifistic. There are times when I'm getting a critique and think, "Um, no. You're totally wrong." There are times when I refuse to change things just because someone suggested it. Let's face it, not every person is the ideal audience for every work of literature. Sometimes, try as they might, guys have a hard time liking Chic Lit. It's not a shortcoming of either author or said guy, it's just a bad match.

So, if I find myself flat out disagreeing with a critique, I don't worry about it. It's not my fault, it's not their fault, it's just a bad match. So what if Jenny and Oliver are actually agreeing on something, and that something is what's wrong with my story. It's my story, dangit. But wait, didn't I just get into a spiel about how it's not? Whups. Then again, I can justify.

The reader owns the story when they're reading and thinking about something I've written. It's theirs completely. However, I own the story when I'm writing and revising it. So, whatever they think, it's my choice how to revise. The reader owns the product. The writer owns the process. That's where I see the balance and the reason I've got thick skin when I'm being critiqued.

How about you? How do you take criticism? How do you see the reader/writer ownership question? Who does a work of fiction really belong to?

Giving Feedback

"You are the toughest critic in the group."
-paraphrase, Marie

Sunday was the writers group meeting and at dinner afterward, we got to talking about the group's dynamics. My demonic nature came up, and then a few of the folks added that I'm also the one who tends to be the hardest on a given piece of work. Marie also commented that, if she could survive my critique, she could survive anyone else's. They meant it in a kind and gentle fashion, with lots of love and no mention of bodily harm. They also mentioned that I say a lot of positive things in critiques too, but there's always the "but." Food for thought.

I started to think about my reasons for being so tough on people. I think it's mostly one, a golden rule sort of approach, "Review as ye would be reviewed." I tend to be merciless on my own work, willing to hack away, chop with abandon, and completely change characters/settings/structure/etc. I give credit to David for at least some of this.

For instance, one semester I did an independent study with him where I wrote a handful of stories based on mythological templates, i.e. my version of the story of Ganesh. He read the rough draft of that story and, instead of saying, "Okay, this scene could be tighter, and I want more of X here," he said, "Okay. What I want to you to now is set this draft aside. Don't look at it. Then, rewrite the story." At first I was a bit flabbergasted. What? I had to rewrite it from scratch?! He explained the logic though - by doing a blind rewrite, I'd lose the least memorable parts of the story and keep the best.

The main part I remember was that I had a scene where the main character has an argument with his dad. It was I think two and a half pages of dialogue. I loved it, I thought the dialogue was great. The only problem was I couldn't remember it verbatim. So what was a 2+ page chunk of dialogue became about half a page long. The kicker - it still said everything it needed to, but said it better.

David wasn't afraid to demand "impossible" things from his students. On more than one of my poems, he said "Alright, it's not bad, but it doesn't really get good until the last stanza. So, cut the other six, make the last one your first of a new poem, and go." The impossible things he demanded from me have made me a much better writer than I would be otherwise. He was very rarely "satisfied" with what I did, but because of it, he forced me to always improve.

As far as blame goes for me being a demanding reviewer, I share it with him. I know how much his high standards helped me, so I have a thought that mine might help someone else. Besides: if everyone else in the group disagrees with me, then by all means, the writer is free to as well. I just like to find ways to up the ante, so to speak. If it's a good story, then good, but what if it could be a great one?

What kind of a reviewer are you? What do you think are the most important things you can do/say in a critique? Why? How did you develop your approach?

I'm Not Evil, Really

Me: What kind of feedback do you want? General or nitpicky?
John: Both.

After much goading from me, John from work has given me the first three chapters of his "science-fantasy" novel. Though, I think he's going to stop calling it that since I mentioned there's no such genre.

I've gotten about half way through chapter one and I'm starting to have some hesitation about returning it to him. I've written all over it. Really. I got a little carried away with trying to be helpful, so I've circled, underlined, and crossed-out like crazy. It looks like I hate it. I don't, I really don't. *Sigh* I'm going to have to do some serious prefacing before I hand it back to him, something along the lines of "Yeah, it's going to look like I'm the antichrist, but I just got carried away."

The jist: his story is interesting so far - a person from our world plopped into a fantasy realm premise, with a fun twist of the stranger having amnesia. The part that needs work is the storytelling. He has oodles of info-dumpy exposition, likes -ly adverbs (especially "quickly"), and explains just about every single line of dialogue in terms of "he asked with a puzzled expression on his face" stuff. Nothing that's irreparable, but plenty to be polished.