Tuesdays with Story

March 11, 2011
Writer’s Mail
by Carol Hornung

Quote of the Day. . .
“And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.”~Sylvia Plath

You Don’t Have to be Taken by Pirates
“I used to think I had to have important events to write about, I had to be taken by pirates or something,” says one of the participants in a writing workshop for seniors that Poets & Writers has funded for more than a decade. Check out this short video featuring an inspiring group of writers from Poets & Writers Magazine at http://www.pw.org/funding

Last Chance to Pony Up for Fifth Tuesday Writing Challenge
Your Fifth Tuesday finance buckeroo plans to herd more Writing Challenge entry fees into the ol’ dollar corral at First-and-Third’s meeting on March 15. Meanwhile, back on your ranch…

Take the Challenge: Send your 500-word character interview to Jerry (petersonjerry@att.net) by March 20. The best character interview wins a critique of the first 50 pages of the author’s novel by Madison College creative writing instructor John Galligan, plus a fine restaurant dinner with John.

So, pony up: Put your check in the mail today!

Or submit your entry to Jerry and send me your IOU.

Ponying up the $10 entry fee is great incentive for you to get your own stubborn dogie into the corral, headed for market. Get along little dogies!

Tuesday night …
Anticipating a large crowd for Patrick Rothfuss’ signing at BN, 2nd & 4th returned to the upstairs at Sundance for critiquing (and wonderful hot beverages)…

Jack Frieburger read “Sea Voices” from Path to Bray’s Head. Kim wanted to know why the kids were going on the trip. Anne felt Clare was a bit shortchanged in the beginning – every member of the crew got a paragraph of description except her. Andrea loved the line “She turned to brandy during winter.” Terry pointed out that sunscreen wasn’t widely available in this time period. Suntan lotion, more likely, or zinc oxide.

Holly Bonnicksen-Jones read a rewrite of Chapter 25, “The Deep End” of Coming Up for Air. In general, it was agreed that this was a good rewrite. Holly wondered if there was a better way to describe an older woman/younger man relationship, besides calling the woman a cougar. May/December romance was discussed. Carol suggested striking more of the speech tags. The actions ID the speaker pretty well by themselves. Kim wanted to get to David sooner – suggested summarizing the hotel sequence. Andrea wanted the reflection to always have a more distinct voice.

Terry Hoffman presented her rewrite of Chapter 7 of The Tome. Carol really liked how she ramped up the tension, and the phone call was definitely improved. Holly liked the build-up conversation before the burning of the book. Jack felt Doug was being a little too out of character philosophically regarding the book and control issues. Andrea was still a bit confused with all the action around the burning. Instead of building a fire, maybe already have it burning to save time.

Kim Simmons presented two chapters from City in Winter. Anne felt that Ryoko was transforming an awful lot in such a short chapter. Holly said “there is way too much breathing going on.” And Carol felt the battle sequence was far too brutal for this kind of a novel. By coldly cutting down potential supporters just to prove herself in disguise to the enemy leader, Ryoko risks coming off as very unlikable. The cruelty of it doesn’t seem to bother her at all. She did like the meeting of Ryoko and James, and Jen suggested James would start picking up on who Ryoko is – he’d recognize the fighting style.

Leah Wilbur presented a rewrite of Chapter Two, Fog-gotten. Anne called it an improvement. Kim liked the descriptions, but didn’t need to be led into them all the time. “You don’t need an excuse to look at something to describe it. Just describe it, don’t tell me you looked at it.” Holly enjoyed the voice of the character, and Andrea felt the doctor should be surprised that his patient is awake.

Who’s up next . . .
March 15: Amber Boudreau (chapter 19, young adult novel), John Schneller (chapter, Final Stronghold), Jen Wilcher (chapter, The Hogoshiro Chronicles), Cathy Riddle (chapter, Beer Crimes), Jerry Peterson (chapter 8, Thou Shalt Not Murder), and Kim Simmons (chapter 59, City of Summer).

March 22: Andrea Kirchman (???), Kim Simmons (chapter, City of Winter), Holly Bonnicksen Jones (chapter, Coming Up for Air), Jack Frieburger (chapter, Path to Bray‘s Head), Jen Wilcher (???), Carol Hornung (chapter, Sapphire Lodge).

March 29: Fifth Tuesday at Booked for Murder.

April 5: Pat Edwards (poems), Aaron Boehm (screenplay/part 6, Hell Cage), Leah Wilbur (chapter 2, Narnia Noir), Clayton Gill (chapter 17, Fishing Derby), Randy Haselow (chapter, Hona and the Dragon), Millie Mader (chapter 25, Life on Hold), and Greg Spry (chapter 5, Beyond Cloud Nine) as the alternate.

April 12: Terry Hoffman (chapter, The Tome), Jack Frieburger (chapter, Path to Bray’s Head).

April 26: Randy Haselow (chapter, Hona and the Dragon).

Building a book requires the right foundation…
Do you “write through” your novel’s first draft, no stopping, to find out what it’s really about? Or do you sort that out ahead of time with a careful and detailed outline?

Many accomplished writers believe that completing an outline—prewriting—will save you a ton of blood, sweat and tears and will eliminate that horrible moment when you’re ready to revise and you’re faced with a messy mound of papers that has to be fixed.

Rejection from an agent is inevitable when a story is fundamentally flawed, says author Karen S. Wiesner in a recent article on Savvy Authors online: “Are You Writing Your Novel Backwards?”

Wiesner says why write 175-plus pages that you’ll “most likely have to scrap” when you can write a fully useable outline of a novel in a week or two that ensures that won’t happen?

“An outline has the dual purpose of creating a firm foundation for a story as well as putting the hard work of writing where it belongs—at the beginning of a project. If you work out the kinds in the story at the get-go…you ensure that the writing and revising are the easy parts.”

To read the entire article, go to http://www.savvyauthors.com/vb/content.php?944-“Are-You-Writing-Your-Novel-Backwards-”-(From-One-Author-to-Another…)-by-Karen-S.-Wiesner

7 myths about feedback
Approach it properly and it becomes an invaluable resource that can help you write more—and better
By Joni B. Cole
Published: June 22, 2010

I know, I know. A lot of writers (maybe you?) dread getting feedback. Putting your work out there and asking “Well?” can make you want to toss back a few in the powder room, even before your story discussion begins. And to make an already nerve-wracking situation worse, most of us have been exposed to what I call “toxic feedback.” By this I mean any feedback that crush-es your confidence, sets back your work, or just makes you feel generally lousy.

Often critiquers present toxic feedback under the guise of being “brutally honest.” (“You’ll never be a writer!”) But since when does brutality serve any productive purpose, or belong in any educational interaction?

If you’re timid about feedback—toxic or otherwise—the time has come to see feedback for what it really is: an invaluable resource that can inform and energize your creative process from the first draft to the last line edit. After all, unless you’re composing a secret diary, I imagine your writing goal is to communicate something meaningful to someone other than yourself. So how do you know if you’re achieving your intent? How do you know if people are moved by your work or want to move on, unless you get some reader response along the way?

Following are seven myths about feedback that have too many writers running scared. Learn the truth about feedback and you can not only detoxify the process, but use it to write more, write better, and, yes, even be happier, because who isn’t happier when writing more and better?

1. Positive feedback is a waste of time.
Too many of us have bought into the deficit model of feedback, meaning the best way to help writers improve their work is to tear it to shreds. Hence, sincere writers say “Bring it on!” and demand only critical feedback, believing anything positive will be unproductive. And, on the other side, sincere feedback providers feel remiss unless they note every fault of the narrative.

Yet the reality is that when barraged with too much negative feedback, writers usually don’t have a clue what to do when they sit down to revise, except maybe cry.

Much more useful (not to mention pleasant) is to focus a good portion of the feedback on what is right with the writing. “Here, this scene offers just the right mix of external action and internal monologue.” “Here, the dialogue intensifies the conflict.” “Here, this chapter beautifully furthers the plot.”

The point of positive feedback isn’t just to make the writer feel good (though what’s wrong with that?). The point is that writers learn volumes from their own examples of powerful prose, something that won’t happen if all the feedback centers on the work’s deficits. Plus, a focus on the positive leaves the writer feeling much more motivated to put in the hours necessary to make the succeeding drafts even better.

2. Feedback will railroad your creative process.
Wait a minute. Aren’t you forgetting something? You are the boss of your own story. Not your workshop peers. Not that famous author you met at a writing conference. Not even your mother, who inconveniently lives next door and figures prominently in your tell-all memoir. When it comes to applying feedback, only you determine what stays and what goes in your story.

Acknowledging that you have creative control makes it easier to listen to other people’s opinions with equanimity, even gratitude. You can use the feedback to hone your own editorial instincts, rather than try to please everybody and write by committee. What comments ring true to you? Which suggestions jive with your vision of your work?

Once back at your desk, armed with a fresh perspective only outside readers can provide, you can revise accordingly, applying only the feedback that resonates. But that’s the beauty of feedback—you can take it or leave it. As boss of your own story, it’s up to you to decide.

3. Writers should be silent during their story discussions.
During a radio interview, the host asked me, “How can writers prepare for the worst when it comes to criticism?” She also used the word “nightmare” in association with feedback.

I think this interviewer has some is-sues with feedback. The writer’s job isn’t to prepare for the worst but to manage the feedback process so it isn’t a nightmare in the first place.

I know many groups institute a “no talking” policy to prevent a writer from defending her words or hogging the conversation. But I feel that’s a bit extreme, and can be counterproductive.

Yes, when your pages are being re-viewed, you want to do more listening than talking. But if negative comments are flying at you like the arrows at St. Sebastian, don’t just sit there. Refocus the frenzy. Ask your critics what they liked about the piece. What worked? Why? If there’s nothing positive, ask what they noticed or remembered.

Similarly, if the discussion goes no deeper than generalities (“I was bored”; “Good job!”), push for more. Ask open-ended questions. (“Where were you bored?” “What did you like about the ending?”) These help stimulate any discussion, and can illuminate more specifically how to address your manuscript’s problems, or replicate your success.

4. Writers are just looking for a little praise.
We may think we are. But what we really want is encouragement. We want a sincere appreciation for our efforts. We want readers to recognize what’s good about our work. And in that context, we also want real help in developing, improving or polishing our work.

When it comes to constructive criticism, even the most fragile among us can handle specifics. It’s the broad condemnations that bring us to our knees. “Your story didn’t work for me.” “Start over.” “I don’t get it.” How does a writer revise so that a reader gets it? In contrast, writers truly value specific responses that help clarify why something isn’t working so they can more effectively address the problem.

5. The goal of feedback is to help “fix” a story.
Fixing stories may be one goal of feedback, but it sure doesn’t make me want to race out and get some, at least not during certain stages of the creative process. What’s more, the responsibility of fixing another writer’s work almost makes me feel desperate to find fault with it, even where there is none.

More palatable and productive for both sides of the interaction is to think of feedback not in terms of fixes, but reader responses. And by this I mean any response that gets the writer to write more and write better.

For example, feedback can take the form of listening or brainstorming. (“Tell me more about your main character.” “What happens next?”) It can be an affirmation or validation. (“I know you can do this!”) It can even be a deadline because too often without one, writers (gasp!) procrastinate. And, yes, last but not least, feedback can take the form of someone saying what’s wrong with the writing in order to help fix it.

6. The best feedback comes from professionals.
A couple of years ago I drafted the opening chapter of a mystery novel, and gave it to my then 9-year-old daughter to read. In the second paragraph, I had the main character remembering how her husband had given her the special brooch she was wearing. A few pages later, when the husband appears on the scene, my daughter commented, “But I thought he was dead.”

I realized that I had indeed created this wrong impression by first introducing the husband in his wife’s memory, but I never would have seen this problem without my daughter’s feedback.
The point of this anecdote is to brag about my daughter, but also to show that quality readers aren’t just professional editors or published authors.

In seeking feedback, be open-minded. Try out different writing groups or form your own workshop. More than literary credentials, look for readers who will provide you with honest, thoughtful commentary, who will motivate you to go at it again—and who will save you from blunders like mine.

7. Real writers don’t need feedback.
I once interviewed a novelist whose first (and only) book enjoyed critical success, albeit dismal sales. He emphasized that he “never, ever” showed his work-in-progress. His reasoning: If you’re the one writing the book, why trouble yourself with other people’s opinions? How could an outsider know more about your story than you do?

At first, his logic gave me pause. Maybe real writers shouldn’t trouble themselves with feedback. But then this author went on to mention that it took him 22 years to finish his novel. Twenty-two years! And for much of that time he felt bored and depressed and suffered from writer’s block.

I see this as a cautionary tale. Say you’ve just started writing your book. Unless you’re comfortable with the idea of not finishing it until 2032, you may want to get yourself some feedback. Because sometimes even “real” writers need outside inspiration, motivation and validation.

Last Words. . .
“I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.” – Doublas Adams