Confidence and Crit Partners

One of my insecurities about writing (I have many) is that people know I’m insecure about my writing! There is a fine line between modesty—knowing your work has shortcomings—and wimpy lack of confidence. I have vacillated between the two, which is likely apparent to those who have read my blog for a while or read my comments on others' blogs.

Here’s the problem it presents: Since the blog-o-sphere has proved to be my pool of potential beta-readers and critique partners who likely sense my insecurity, I tend to wonder if they sugar-coat their responses to my writing. Intellectually, I know I have chosen them because they have integrity and will be honest—and when they offer suggestions on how to improve, I absolutely believe them. But when they say something nice, I always wonder if it’s just to make the criticism more palatable. Which is stupid, because I know some of my writing is pretty good and commendation is often an effective way to motivate further improvement. Even worse, if most of what they say is positive, I wonder if they think I can't handle the truth, and so hold back on pointing out the negative! (For the record: Yes, I can handle the truth!)

Fortunately, I have found a remedy to this! Time! It takes time to build up a trusting relationship with a crit partner or beta reader. True confidence in someone can only come through experience. It’s very difficult starting out with little or no writerly support—especially if you live somewhere remote and don’t have access to a live writing group (even then, it takes time to build trust). I feel very fortunate after several years of this blogging/writing gig, to have found some real gems! It has bolstered my confidence exponentially! You know who you are..THANKS!

This post is part of a series The Insecure Writers Support Group—yes, a blogfest—sponsored by Alex J. Cavanaugh, to lend support to fellow insecure writers (and that's most of us!).  A list of fellow Supporters can be found at the above link--go visit their blogs for more encouragement...

The Inner Critic

As writers and artists, we have one. I never realized whose voice it was—telling me that my work wasn’t good enough, that I needed to stretch beyond my comfort zone. She actually sprung out of my subconscious and took form in one of my novels, though I didn’t recognize her as such at the time. She hovers over me, whether I’m painting or writing…

Let me introduce you to Marvelle, by way of an excerpt…

Leila hunched over her work, sitting before the garden’s centerpiece, a Grecian maiden perched in a dried-up fountain. Spanish moss grazed the greenish patina of her shoulders, glowing in the gradient light of late afternoon. She loomed as guardian over Leila. Her watchful eye seemed to alert the artist to unwanted attention approaching from behind.

Sensing an intrusion, Leila arched her aching back and quit with her paintbrush. She pulled the paper block to her chest. Cocking her head, she met an old woman’s piercing eyes.

The matron frowned, folding her arms and taking an abrupt suck from her cigarette. Standing less than five foot, the well-into-her-eighties matron swept a strand of white hair up and poked it into the knot crowning her head. She drew a long drag from the cigarette that doubled as a gesturing baton, leaving a thin trail of smoke. “Well?”

Leila wondered if this might be Marvelle. She clutched her work even tighter.

The old woman flicked her butt to the grass. Grinding it under foot, she thrust out her hand with all the authority of God.

“Don’t be ridiculous, child! Let me see!” Her smoker’s voice chopped with a Bostonian inflection.

Taken aback, Leila glowered at the encroachment while sizing up her opponent. A long, loose-fitting tunic hung from a buttoned neckline and square shoulders, covering most of her shapeless trousers. She looked well on her way to the grave, and yet Leila hesitated to disobey.

Crooked fingers snatched the tablet and held it at a distance, then brought it closer to her spectacles. “You’re overworking it, child.”

“Yeah?” Leila stated, regarding what had always been obvious to her.

“And you’re including too much detail.”

“I like detail.”

“That’s fine, da’ling, but until you can make your point with a few strokes you have no business with detail. You haven’t earned the right.”

Leila’s attention darted from fierce wrinkles to her own disappointing efforts. Was this feisty and officious bit-of-a-woman the ‘dear old soul’ of whom her had grandmother spoken?

“Your perspective, however, and proportions are impeccable. Perhaps you ought to stick with sketching, and not waste your time with paint.”

“I like to paint.”

“Could have fooled me. You look as uncomfortable as a cat in a shoebox, and your work is as passionless as a peck on the cheek.” She wielded the pad as though swatting mosquitoes, and then shoved it back at Leila. “You can’t tell me you’re happy with this.”

“I wasn’t expecting a great work of art. It’s just a pastime.”

“Rubbish! What prevents you from greatness?”

“What?” Wide-eyed, and then with a squint, Leila sat erect.

“Fear—that’s what! When you’re ready to own up to it, come and see me, da’ling.” With that old woman spun on her heal and jauntily headed back toward the house, belying any readiness for the grave.

For all intents and purposes, Marvelle could be standing over my shoulder as I type, trying to form a story. She always sees the flaw, but I think she also sees the potential.

Is your inner critic ‘cruel…but fair?’ Does she ever allow you any peace or gratification?

Standing One's Ground in the Face of 'Cruelty'

My husband is an artist who likes to study and then ‘reproduce’ paintings by American Impressionist, John Singer Sargent**. He often takes liberties with the subject, though I knew Lady Playfair (ironic name) would require a whole lot of liberties. It's also worth mentioning that if Todd doesn’t care for the face, he substitutes one he likes.
 

Lady Playfair

Since we are both artists, he expects me to provide honest feedback as he goes along—as I expect from him when I’m painting. Although he selected this subject for the color and contrast, I was not fond of his choice—it reminded me too much of Halloween. I didn’t say anything because I wanted to see how he would address the dowdy matron’s figure. And address it he did—or shall I say, re-dress, starting with her foundation-wear…

As he often does when he copies a painting, he works the body first and leaves the face blank. In this case, that was good, but bad at the same time—I had nothing to focus on but her torso; specifically, the arms that hung from said torso. (Though the body itself did provided some animated discussion and amusement.)
 

Faceless Jackie

We stood in front of his easel, sipping pinot noir. In a calm rational manner, I said, “Oh! My! Gosh! Look at the length of that arm! What’s the matter with her? Are you trying to make her look like the result of interbreeding? Oh, that simply won’t do—you need to fix that right away!”

“The arm is fine!” Todd insisted, though I think even he could see that the original looked long. He justified his stance. “Singer Sargent tends to elongate.” He refused to change the glaring problem, and all I could focus on was “Jack-O-Lantern Woman's” freakishly long arm.

Yes, it’s true, every time I looked at her, I brought the offending arm to Todd’s attention. “Well, leave it that way if you must, but you are surely not going to hang that freak on our wall!”

Yes, I was ‘cruel…But fair,’* as he and I often say….

Then, one night, he didn’t come to bed for hours and hours…He must be doing that ‘cosmetic surgery’, I thought, feeling all smug and satisfied. When I woke the next morning, I didn’t even notice the arm—he had painted a face on Jackie-Lantern… "Oh. My. Goodness!—she’s perfect!”

Yes, I still see the arm, but when I look at the painting, all I really notice is her beautiful face. She’s amazing to me!

Jackie Lantern

Moral of the story: Even under the most brutal of criticism, keep forging ahead—something wonderful may happen!

Sometimes, the whole can make up for even a glaring flaw... 

*Monty Python, The Piranha Brothers
**There are some nice prints of John Singer Sargent's work here.

Experimenting & Bravery

Today, Domey Malasarn at the Lit Lab is following through on an experiment for which I have volunteered to participate. I have offered up Daydreams, the piece I wrote last week, to be critiqued--Tiger Mother style. I wrote this bit of fiction quickly and then, over the course of several days revised it. I considered it polished enough to post and put my name to, without overly vesting myself emotionally.

Domey's experiment coincides with a post that The Lit Lab's guest blogger, C.N. Nevets wrote about writing bravely, and his subsequent post on his own blog which develops the theme, but differentiates between bravery and recklessness--very thoughtful. These are issues I have grappled with for some time. I am not brave by nature, but neither am I complacent. That said, I am often given to moments of impulsiveness which I indulge because, although I am fraught with fears, I fear stagnation even more. I want to grow as a writer and a person, and so I put myself and my writing out there.

While I believe it took some bravery on my part to put Daydreams out there for a rigorous public critique, I think it was equally brave for Domey to conduct such an experiment, accepting the first three volunteers, not knowing just how brutal he might have to be...

Having read his critique, I have to say, it didn't sting as much as I anticipated--perhaps because I trust Domey, perhaps because I am so aware of my own weaknesses and assume everyone else can already see them. What stood out to me, and made me grin, was his assessment that my work was "too safe" and 'lacking originality'. There is actually some comfort in knowing that someone concurs with what you already know about your own work, and that the principles for improvement can be applied across the board. Thanks for the critique, Domey!

I hope my next post on my continuing watercolor prompted series is an improvement...

ABNA Feedback

Well, in case anyone’s wondering—I didn’t make it through to the quarterfinalists of the ABNA. Disappointing, yes—but surprisingly, a relief. I won’t have a tense month, laboring over whether or not I made it through to the next round, worrying about a good or bad review from Publishers Weekly. One thing I’ve confirmed is that I do not have a temperament that fares well with competition.

Another thing the ABNA confirmed is that opinions are very subjective, on every level. A few of those who visit this blog have also read Story for a Shipwright—the entire thing. Therefore, I thought I’d go ahead and share the feedback I received from the two Amazon’s Vine Reviewers who read the first 5,000 words of my novel:

Feedback
Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award Reviews

ABNA Expert Reviewer
What is the strongest aspect of this excerpt?
The knowledge of ship building and restoration, and the hints of nautical history, provide an interesting theme -- one that can appeal to both male and female readers. My favorite character in this excerpt is Buck; he is the one who seems most "real" at this point.

What aspect needs the most work?
The main character, Sammy, seems very distant. He will be hard to get to know. I am having difficulty understanding his perspective -- he is alternately dismissive and intrigued.

What is your overall opinion of this excerpt?
This excerpt is a good start, but I don't have a feel for where it might be going. So far there isn't a compelling "hook", or a strong connection to a character, to make me want more.

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ABNA Expert Reviewer
What is the strongest aspect of this excerpt?
The mystery that surrounds the characters - who is Marlena and why is she so odd. Why hasn't Sammy been on the sea? What is the relationship between Buck and Sammy? I also found the voice used to be authentic - Sammy has a certain gruffness that you would expect from a single man in rural Maine. The author seems to be true to the region and the people who live there.

What aspect needs the most work?
A few passages seem to be over-written, such as, "As I approached, plodding through deep and unavoidable furrows of softening earth, she glanced up at me with delight" While the prose looks nice it just doesn't seem natural. Ultimately, to me, it serves as a distraction - I am not saying that it needs to be watered down to a 5th grade level, but could be a little less dramatic. Again, this is my opinion, but the heavy prose slows down the plot development.

What is your overall opinion of this excerpt?
My criticism may seem harsh, but ultimately it is minor point. The author has done a great job at delivering an unique and original premise which is delivered in an authentic voice. The msytery surrounding each of the characters quickly captures the interest of the reader. I walk away being very impressed with, "Story for a Shipwright."

There's a BIG Difference

I can’t help but ponder the similarities and differences between sharing artistic and literary endeavors with others.

Here’s what I’m thinking about:

See this painting? What do you think of it? Do you like it? Of course, that all has to do with perspective. If you were my mother, or even a close friend, it wouldn’t matter if it were stick figures, you’d think it was wonderful. That’s like sharing our literary efforts with family and friends, our alpha-readers. They make us feel good and provide the needed reinforcement that moves us forward as writers.

An avid appreciator of art will come along and recognize that the medium is watercolor; they’ll observe that it’s not typical of the ‘genre,' but it seems to work. They may even notice the little bit of reflected backlight on the bottom side of the egg, and say ‘cool.’ But they are just as likely to say, 'what’s left to the imagination?' 'The composition is good, but it feels stagnant'. They are our beta-reader who may not be writers themselves, but know what they like and why they like it.

At some point, a fellow artist with a discriminating eye will come along. They may recognize all the above, but they may also notice the ridge of the copper kettle, how it trails off in distortion just above the spout, and think—what went wrong there? Or how the folds of fabric are overworked and muddy. They may object to the incongruities of the background and foreground. Thus the fellow-writer beta-reader.

Those are the similarities; now the differences, and in my opinion, they’re are huge.

• The painting is finished and I’m never going to go back and change any of it. No revising.

• And here’s a real biggy: How long did it take you to make a decision about the painting? Maybe 2 seconds? If you have a discriminating eye, maybe, oh, say 5-10 seconds—okay, I’ll give you 30. Less than one minute to decide if, in your opinion, it’s any good or if you'd hang it on your wall.

How long did it take your beta-readers to make a determination on your literary work? Especially if it’s a novel? Hours and hours. Not to mention the mental expenditure. We are asking them to trust us for a long ride that may or may not be to their liking.

And here’s a final difference

• What does this painting reveal about the artist? She has an eye for detail. She may have some control issues. Perhaps she likes domesticity and old stuff. Maybe she’s studied art—maybe she’s only read how-to books on painting. What else does it truly reveal?

Now think about how much of yourself you reveal when you write. Ever feel naked? I know I do.

Just sent my manuscript to a reader I don’t know, for technical support, but when he’s done, he's going to know a whole lot more about me than I ever will about him.
Feeling a little naked today…

Bernoulli’s Principle

I have been following Miss Snark’s First Victim blog, and currently she has up for feedback the first 250 words of 38 unpublished works. I love reading these, and have left feedback on a couple I especially liked. What particularly strikes me with these exercises/contests is just how important those first few paragraphs are. My sister, an avid reader and recreational writer, associates it with Bernoulli’s principle.

Bernoulli’s principle: The combined forces which generate lift in aircraft. In a literary application, we essentially rely on those first words to generate enough forward motion in our story to get it off the ground. We need to give the reader confidence that we will deliver them safely to a destination without a crash and burn.

She is a staunch reader of the first paragraph in books that catch her interest. If it is convoluted, cliché, not utterly easy to follow, or sounds pretentious then it has taken a nosedive and she puts it back on the shelf. “I’m willing to commit time to the journey, and if that first paragraph gives me confidence that I’m in good hands, I’ll read on,” she told me.

Based on that principle, I have rewritten my opening paragraph countless times.

As a side issue on this topic of opening paragraphs and offering critique on them: when I read the feedback provided by others, I am amazed at the authority with which it given. The writing qualifications of the reviewers, on so many of these blogs, spread across the entire spectrum of writers. From unpublished novelists (like me) on over to those with numerous credentials and published works. Yet very often, the feedback is consistently good; in view of it, I can return to the excerpt I just read and see exactly what needs tweaking. I’ve learned how to improve my own writing by means of it. I think it must be no small task, developing that critical eye. I'm still honing mine. When I read someone’s work, I am far more inclined to see what I like in it. Perhaps that’s just my nature.

Very soon, I will be swapping manuscripts with a fellow novelist who is at approximately the same stage I’m at. I’m a little nervous—okay, a lot nervous! I know I will find plenty to like about her work, but will I be up for the challenge of offering helpful critique? We’ve agreed to have a list—an agenda of sorts—as to what we specifically want; I hope that saves me. I wonder how many of those other bloggers out there are in the same boat.