The Separation Anxiety Blues

My writing group is taking a break. It was a good run, but I’m ready to give it a rest for a while. For the last meeting they critiqued 35 pages of my new novel. I had rushed to finish that much to hand out. It has some problems, some first-draft woe. Such as lack of characterization and long scenes where I lovingly describe apartment interiors and the finer points of videocassettes. My hapless protagonist is getting sucked into the potentially lucrative but certainly questionable business of pornography. So apartments and videocassettes (it’s 1994) play a huge role. Okay, not so huge, but it’s only a first draft. I’ll save the chapters’ worth of living room, bedroom, and kitchen description for my book of linked stories on indoor living.

My group, called Council, or Mini Council, or Secret Mini Council, is an off-shoot of a Grub Street novel workshop where many of us met, first hand or by a couple degrees. The Mini Council is an extension of this class, in many, but certainly not all, ways. Every other Thursday we met at a member’s home in JP, after having read up to 100 pages of one or two writers' work.


Two weeks is a perfect length of time to read 100 pages. For me, anyway. I’m a sort-of slow reader. And we’re reading with an editorial eye for structure, syntax, dialogue, pacing, plot, character, all that good stuff. So this adds a layer of…reading to the reading. I always come away with some points to make, some helpful (hopefully) suggestions. But I’m amazed at what the other Mini Council members bring to the discussion. Details about motive or structure I just never considered, never imagined, had no idea existed. It always makes me want to go back and read the pages again. I’m still learning, still building my critical eye.

With the Mini Council on hiatus I can concentrate on other reading. Such as a literary journal that I’m supposed to be reviewing for The Review Review website. I’ve had this issue for a few months now, and I still haven’t finished it. Granted, it’s a double issue, thick with review-fodder such as a 100-page tribute to David Foster Wallace. Also, I tend to ignore reading for pleasure more when I’m in Mini Council. Actually, that’s not true. I just do less of it.


But at the moment I’ve fallen out of the reading habit. I’ve lost that readin’ feeling. Must. Get. Back. And I will. I’ve got about three books started, and I just have to finish those up, and move on to the next. Soon I’m off for a week’s vacation, and that’s when I’ll break this cycle of non-reading. I get a lot done down there (away from here) and so will be sure to pack plenty covers, soft and hard. I may even bring my laptop to get some writing done.

I miss the Mini Council already. But it will be back in the fall, in some form. I may join in the games, or I might take another Grub class. Or, I may lay low and just do the writing. Who can say? I like being coy. I’m the coy narrator. Actually, coy narrators drive me bats. Don’t do this at home, kids.

Writing Group Etiquette Part II

I wanted to include a follow up to the writing group etiquette post from June 16, and relate a recent writing group experience.

Last week I attended my usual writing group, where we were critiquing 50 pages each from two writers. At one point when I had the floor, I started talking about a problem I had with the story under discussion. Overall, the writing was excellent. I found the story engaging and the location vivid and unusual. But one of my points was so prescriptive, that as I spoke it aloud I realized a few things:

• I had failed to heed my own advice and critique the work as written, not force my own writing wishes for what I would like to have seen within another’s pages.
• I had not read the pages closely enough. If I had, I would have come to them with the understanding that the rest of the group seemed to have.
• I had (I imagine) achieved the one effect I was hoping to avoid: I pissed off a fellow writer. At least momentarily. By the end of the meeting I had embraced a much less extreme solution to the problem, suggested by some of the other members of the group.

Lesson learned: be honest, but be tactful. Try to determine what you don’t like about a piece, and take the time to come up with helpful recommendations. You might need to read pages more than once to really get to the core of what you want to say about them.

Final Writing Group Thoughts

Online Writing Groups. I’ve traded writing over email, but I’ve never been part of a continuing online group. You should be able to carry over many of these experiences and tips into cyber critiques.

If you’ve had experience with online groups, let me know if you like them better than meeting in person. My sister, romantic suspense writer Cynthia Sherrick, just joined one for the first time. I’ll be interested to find out how it goes.

Try More Than One. Robin Smith-Johnson (another sister—I have three, all writers) left the following comment:

"It actually has been helpful to have two reactions to my poems (and fun to take the same poem to different meetings). The feedback is always helpful and has helped me shape poems that were later accepted for publication."

This is a great idea: showing the same work to more than one set of writers. Like Robin says, she uses all the feedback to help shape her work to be publish-ready.

Read Aloud. I forgot to mention this last time. If you get the chance, have somebody read a few pages of your writing aloud. Hearing your writing aloud immediately highlights problems with dialogue, rhythm, pacing, tone, and more. You can hear previously unchecked cracks in what you thought was the smooth surface of your pages. Flat dialogue truly lies like a wet dishtowel when you hear it spoken. Clichés you had no idea were there bare teeth. Uneven paragraphs and sloppy sentence structure become much easier to detect. Part of this phenomenon happens when you are faced with an audience for the first time. You become your own toughest, hyper-vigilant critic, concentrating intensely as if for the first time on your own phrases, segues, and dialogue.

Okay, enough. There’s nothing more I can do for you. You’re on your own now. Send a postcard occasionally and let me know how it's going.

Writing Group Etiquette (or, how not to piss off your fellow writers)

There are all kinds of writing groups, from impromptu beer and wine-fueled evenings at somebody’s loft, to groups that follow a rigid schedule every third Monday of the month, to an open format where anybody can bring in pages every meeting. Whatever the format, all participants deserve equal time to have their work thoughtfully considered. Whether you’re a writing group veteran or a beginning writer looking for your first group, it helps to remember the basic tenets of writing group etiquette.

Stay Positive. In writing groups and workshops both, sometimes it’s easy to forget that you'll be reading pages that aren't polished, and sometimes are far from finished. If you’re critiquing pages that have recognizable but reparable problems, try to first focus on positive aspects of the story that you genuinely like. Preface your honest comments (both verbal and written) with a compliment, and then segue into some helpful hints for making the story better. This sets a friendlier tone for the discussion, and may cushion any defensiveness the writer develops. Just remember that it’s easier for any writer to hear, “I really loved your dialogue. Your setting is unique. But I'm not 100% behind your decision to make the husband a horse. Maybe if you considered...” than, “I really had a problem with this horse thing...”

Find the Right Group. Join the writing group that’s best for you. Don’t hammer away in a group that you’re not comfortable in or doesn’t feel supportive. Don’t expect to always get a loving response from all your fellow writers—believe me, it won’t happen. And if you want to be a better writer, you don’t want it to. But if you only receive negative feedback, or you only get preemptive comments about how you should write instead of how to make what you’ve written better, then it’s time to find another group. Also, when you hand out your work, you should expect the other members to give thoughtful feedback. Not everyone will (or can) spin their ideas about your writing into wonderful diamonds of insight, but on the other hand if all you get is margin scribbles like “Boring!” or “I don’t get it!” without explanation, that’s worse than not having your work read at all.

Find your Level. Make sure you’re at the proper group level. Being among writers who are advanced and have a lot to say about the work and business of writing can be an invaluable tool to any writer. Then again, maybe you’re a beginner and not ready to send out your work. In which case you need help with the basics of putting a short story or chapter together, and you’re not interested in the symbolic implications of color choice in the bedroom scene or which agent is taking vampire alien stories. It’s like when you were in elementary school and they put you in an advanced reading circle. Could you keep up with the other kids? Did you understand everything you read? There’s no shame in biding with the beginners. There’s always something to gain from meeting with like-minded writers, whether you’re all beginning writers or veterans of the writing conference and agent query circuit.

Get it in Writing. Be sure to get some kind of written feedback from your fellow writers. It’s hard enough to remember what people say about your work, harder still to take notes and listen at the same time, but if you’re not taking home notes from all participants you’re not getting your money’s worth from a writing group. Set group rules early on about how to handle getting feedback to the writers. Not everyone is great at supplying pages of comments, and that’s not always helpful anyway. But everyone should be getting down their thoughts about your writing, whether its typing up comments and handing them to you, writing tasty notes in the margins of your printouts, or emailing you a helpful missive. Feedback is much more powerful and meaningful if you can walk away with concrete evidence. And it comes in handy when you’re rewriting your pages.

Join the Fun. Beware of groups where participants show up only on those occasions when they are scheduled to hand out or get critiqued. They don’t care about helping other writers, getting better at the craft by reading as much work as they can, or finding out what other types of writing their peers are producing.

Be Honest. When it comes to a room full of passionate people who all strive to get better at their craft, (and, let’s face it, to get published), the real reason you’re all there can get overshadowed. By doubt, by competition, by jealousy, by lack of confidence. But don’t let that get in the way of giving honest critiques. As with verbal comments, when preparing written comments to hand to the writer, be honest and helpful. Don’t blow smoke up their ass, and don’t shy away from areas that you think the writer can improve. Also, line edits are fine, and are generally welcome. Be as honest in your critique of other’s work as you are when you write for yourself.

Consider the Source. You may be in a group with somebody who, for example, doesn’t like flashbacks. So whenever somebody writes a flashback, this person will pick it apart. Don’t take it personally—consider the source. On the other hand, don’t dismiss the tough love of an entire group if, for example, nobody much likes the final scene in your story. When the group reaches a consensus about your work, that’s when you should take notice. In this case, maybe it’s time to revise your ending. Overall, take all criticism for what it is: suggestion. Nobody’s forcing you to change a word, but often positive suggestions and gentle nudging in different and new directions can really expand your initial idea of your story, and make a big difference when it’s time to revise.

Writing Group Tips

If you’re a poet, don’t join a novel writing group. If you’re a beginner, don’t just join any group that’ll have you. Be choosy; it’s your writing, it’s your time. If you can’t find the right group for you, start your own.

When you meet as a group, keep to a schedule, but don’t obsess over sticking to it. As long as you spend enough time on the critique at hand, don’t worry too much when the conversation strays into other topics as long as they’re relevant.

You can glean lots of great information from shooting the shit with fellow writers. Writing groups are a great place to compare notes on everything from how to write a query to which agents might be for you.

Don’t drink and critique. Unless you just got a story accepted or got a book published.

Are you in a writing group? Do you have some favorites you’d like to share?

Writing Groups, Conferences, and Critiques

A few posts back I talked about being in a writing group. We’ve met three times now, critiquing a total of a hundred pages each time (from one or two writers) while also discussing publishing topics and trends.

This past week we all got a glimpse of Randy’s new Kindle, and agreed that while Kindles and like-minded applications are convenient and fun, they will never replace the experience of browsing for, buying, and reading a paper bound item with printed text. Also, fellow-writer Stephanie mentioned that she signed up for the Manuscript Mart at Grub Street’s upcoming Muse and the Marketplace conference. During the Manuscript Mart, established editors and agents critique twenty pages of a writer’s work. I’ve been through the Manuscript Mart experience twice now with the first twenty pages of "A Little Disappeared," so I gave Stephanie some advice (don’t meet right before lunch when the editor has low blood sugar) and told her my experiences.

Which are these: the low-blood-sugar editor wasn’t enthusiastic about my writing. She explained that my novel structure bordered on experimental and the prose of my younger narrator read a little flat. I wasn’t prepared for this critique, so I was stymied. Had I been better prepared, I might have been able to ask better questions and get more out of our meeting.

Undaunted, a couple years later I came back with the same pages, newly revised, and signed up for an agent. The agent had a tough reputation but we seemed to hit it off. She liked my writing but had questions about my choices and wanted to know how the story ended. I answered her questions to her satisfaction and came away from the meeting with her business card and firm handshake. A couple months later, after I had revised my manuscript enough to feel comfortable sending it out, I contacted the agent and asked if she would be interested in seeing the complete manuscript. She said yes. I sent it off. After a few months I sent a series of prodding emails. I eventually I got a form rejection back from her agency.

Everybody’s Manuscript Mart experiences vary. I learned that editors are interested mainly in manuscripts they can publish; while agents spread their net wider in terms of knowing which publishers they think would be right for a particular story. There’s a learning curve to the publishing biz, one I haven’t mastered yet. This year I’m attending day one of the Muse and the Marketplace. If I had a manuscript ready, I’d sign up for another agent for a Manuscript Mart critique. Maybe next year.

But so anyway. The writing group meets again in two weeks it’s my turn to bring in pages. What to bring? I haven’t been working on a novel since last October (right around the time I started this blog) so I’ve been revising some stories. I have about five or six candidates for critique, and am excited to get feedback on short-form pieces. This is what I need help with: finishing. I get an idea, I write write write. But my endings are usually crap. And when I realize I’ve written a story with another crap ending, I lose all inspiration. So, I need more eyes to help me with this writing problem. And I need to take suggestions and critiques and actually incorporate them into the stories.

I’m excited about getting back to work on a novel, either starting a new one, or revising an existing one. On the other hand, I wish I could focus on shorter pieces to place more stories in lit mags, getting my name out there more. It’s an ongoing struggle. A compromise has been to try and turn excerpts and outtakes of my novels into stand-alone stories. This too has proved difficult, as I need to come up with frameworks for these sections that don’t always comprise a smooth beginning, middle, and end.

Are you a writer? Have you had similar experiences trying to carve out pieces of longer works? Let me know what works for you. And I’ll let you know how my next group meeting goes.