Where to Get Your Work Critiqued (and Why You Should)

Posted on January 24, 2014 ·
Image from Flickr by LocoSteve

Image from Flickr by LocoSteve

The quickest way to improve your writing is by getting it critiqued. Reading blogs and books is fine too, but it can be redundant—you’re slogging through the same general advice, looking for solutions to your unique writerly problems. We all have them, and they’re hard to spot.

Several years ago, I wrote a story about a single mother taking her daughter to a baseball game. I revised it endlessly, and after a year or so started submitting it. No takers. I set it aside for a few months and re-read it. I thought it was pretty good but had to acknowledge something was wrong. Some minute thing having to do with rhythm and flow in the center of the story, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

Finally, I submitted it to a contest for ten bucks and paid another ten for a critique. I didn’t win the contest, but I found out what was wrong. The reviewer pointed out that, for a story as short as mine (less than 750 words), I’d overused the “power of three.”

I knew instantly what she meant, because “Oh come on, how did I not see that?!” I eliminated one of the phrases, changed two sentences from passive voice to active voice on her suggestion, and submitted it to Literary Mama. “Flight” was accepted, and became my first published story.

Another benefit from having your work critiqued is knowing what you’re doing right. It’s never obvious, is it? As writers, we’re repeatedly warned that those passages we love most are the ones that should probably die bloody, red-ink deaths. “Kill your darlings!” But that’s not always true. Writers spend years honing their instincts, so it makes sense that their instincts are often right. How do you know when to trust them? You get an objective opinion. Not a family member. Not a friend.

“But objective opinions are still just opinions and therefore actually subjective.” That’s true, smarty pants, which is why when I revised “Flight,” I didn’t follow every suggestion from the reviewer. I recognized a few of them were stylistic preferences, and I chose not to implement them. You have to find that sweet spot—somewhere between paralyzing insecurity and stubborn arrogance—to get the most from a critique and become a better writer. And you do want to become a better writer, right?

Here are four places to get your work reviewed; I have used all four and fully recommend them. For the first three especially, make sure your work is as polished as can be first, because you’re also submitting it. If you’re looking for feedback before you submit your work, skip to #4, or check out my Classes and Critiques page.

1. WOW! Women on Writing: WOW! runs a quarterly flash fiction contest; it costs $10 to submit an entry and an extra $10 for an optional critique. Sound familiar? 😉 Since submitting “Flight” I’ve paid for several more critiques on contest entries, and each time I’ve learned something new. Feedback is broken down into the following categories: subject, content, and technical, with an overview of your story. Once you start using the feedback to improve your work, you just may earn back your entry fees in future winnings (WOW! pays hefty cash prizes).

2. Blue Moon Literary & Art Review: submitting to this magazine costs nothing, but if you want feedback, you can pay $10. I paid the $10 and although my story was rejected, I received a very nice, thoughtful critique. I applied most of the editor’s suggestions and resubmitted to a magazine called Bartleby Snopes. The story was accepted, and was later nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Money well spent! And speaking of . . .

3. Bartleby Snopes: Nathaniel Tower not only runs a fantastic fiction magazine, he is an all-around cool guy, and super generous. There’s no submission fee to submit to Bartleby Snopes, and every submission receives feedback—anywhere from one sentence to several paragraphs–unless the author chooses the “no feedback” option. In the past three years, I’ve submitted to a whole lot of magazines, and this is the only one I’ve come across that guarantees a personal response from the editor. See? Cool guy.

4. Story in Literary Fiction: William H. Coles is a prolific author passionate about the art of literary fiction. His website is loaded with resources for fiction writers—in-depth articles covering dialogue, characterization, point-of-view, narrative arc, humor, conflict, you name it. Mr. Coles offers the following services for free: a manuscript evaluation of up to 1,200 words, a workshop and a “Mentor’s Corner” where you can ask him any question related to literary fiction. Anything you post under these three services will be on the website. That didn’t stop me, though—click around in the workshop and see if you can find me. 🙂

Note that three of the above accept fiction only. Blue Moon Literary & Art Review accepts both fiction and nonfiction.

Good luck! Keep writing.

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One Simple Resolution

Posted on January 3, 2014 ·
Image from Flickr by shutterhacks

Image from Flickr by shutterhacks

My New Year’s resolution has nothing to do with writing. Well—not directly, anyway. It has to do with reading.

About 2 ½ years ago, my cell phone died. I visited the Verizon store, tugging on phones attached to cables, tapping screens, pushing buttons, looking for the perfect match. When I found it, I waved the customer service rep over and told him I’d like “this one, without the data plan.”

“Um—this one doesn’t come without a data plan.”

“Well, which one can I get that doesn’t have a data plan?”

“You mean—you just want a talk/text phone?” He seemed dubious. This was apparently not a common request.

“Yes, just a regular phone. Without the Internet.”

He steered me to a lonely corner, where a sad little flip phone awaited, like the orphan who knows he will never be chosen.

I ended up with an iPhone. A $30 data plan. The world at my fingertips. And, just as I’d feared, an irresistible, time-sucking device. Coveted moments at night–when my son has drifted off to sleep and I lie burrowed in quiet comfort–used to be reserved for reading novels; now it was time spent scrolling through writerly blogs, parenting ezines, online literary magazines, Twitter feeds, Facebook, and Yahoo! News.

It’s still reading, I told myself. Essays, short fiction, very important news, advice, interviews, information.

But it’s not the same. There’s no substitute for reading books, and I’m not reading enough of them. It’s not my iPhone’s fault, or technology’s, or Twitter’s—it’s my fault. I’m horribly undisciplined when it comes to time management. My contract is up, and soon I may just go shopping for a feature phone. I hear they’re in demand lately.

As for my New Year’s resolution, I’ve committed to reading one book per week, starting with Neil Gaiman’s The Ocean at the End of the Lane. It’s January 1, two in the afternoon, and already I’m on chapter four. This should be an easy resolution to keep.

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In Good Company

Posted on December 6, 2013 ·

I didn’t set out to write a YA novel. I just wanted to write a book. Afterwards at a conference, when asked to identify the book’s genre, I proudly declared it “literary fiction.”

The panelist groaned. “Oh, don’t call it that,” he said. “When you say ‘literary fiction’ people’s eyes will roll back in their heads.”

I thought that was pretty funny, and it knocked me off my high horse, but I didn’t know what else to call the book. After some research (hint—do this before you write a book, not after), I knew I’d written a young adult novel.

But I didn’t want to admit it. Why? I’ll tell you—only please don’t judge me too harshly.

I was afraid I wouldn’t be taken seriously.

There are many people in the literary community who look down on the young adult genre. They were practically salivating when J.K. Rowling’s adult novel debuted, couldn’t wait to tear it to pieces—believing an author who writes “for kids” can’t write for adults as well. (Anyone who believes this really needs to check out Maile Meloy.)

I imagined the thin, condescending smiles on faces of other writers who asked what kind of book I’d written. “Oh. A young adult novel. Are there vampires in it?”

It’s such a narrow and misguided view that it shouldn’t bother me, but like most writers I’m rather thin-skinned and sensitive to criticism.

Which is my problem. And I’m so over it.

Because while perusing the YA section in a bookstore a few months ago (one worker told me to hang on while he found someone else to help me, because he doesn’t read anything in the YA section), I came across these:

The Last Unicorn, by Peter S. Beagle. Oh, my. How had I not discovered this yet? I bought it and read it aloud to my son over the next several weeks. If only I could write an entire novel this lovely and perfect . . .

Something Wicked This Way Comes, by Ray Bradbury. A huge inspiration. I used this as a comp title for my novel since it’s also written in third person and incorporates an adult point of view (rare for young adult). Would I love to say my book is a fraction as cool as this one? Of course, but I wouldn’t dare.

Maniac Magee, by Jerry Spinelli. I recognized this book because my 6th-grade daughter had it assigned last year. One Friday, she left her copy at school, so we went to the library and checked out another. Now that we had two, I started reading one, and couldn’t put it down. I would have been proud to write this book.

Speaking of 6th-graders, I recently had the chance to sit in on their Socratic discussion of another assigned novel, and wow. Nothing gets by them. They debated themes, metaphors, symbolism, foreshadowing, character growth, conflict and climax, denouement—and they did it with passion and intelligence and humor.

I couldn’t help thinking of the adult titles topping the bestseller lists. Wait—my book is going to be shelved in the young adult section? Yes, please!

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This is Your Brain After Developmental Edits

Posted on November 23, 2013 ·
Image from Flickr by Andrew Malone

Image from Flickr by Andrew Malone

Remember that commercial from the 80s where some guy holds up an egg (“This is your brain.”) and then cracks it into a sizzling frying pan (“This is your brain on drugs.”)?

That’s a writer’s brain after a round of developmental edits.

I sent them in today, after four weeks of wrestling with plot lines, ripping open scenes and patching them with new ones, and ruthlessly deleting a character who just didn’t fit in anymore. (Hey, it’s been a long month, and I had to take it out on someone.)

I’ve had days when I tacked on 1,000+ words, and days when I worked just as hard and ended with a net loss of words (those are the better days—it’s more fun refining than writing first drafts). I neglected a paid writers’ workshop, an expensive mid-November conference, my blog, and the whole idea of NaNoWriMo.

There have been other ups and downs in November. My application to teach an essay-writing workshop was denied based on a lack of formal teaching experience. My short story The Marshmallow Tree won honorable mention in a contest. I turned down, for the first time, an invitation for a reading due to an utter lack of ideas (refer to analogy of fried brain). I received two rejections on short stories, but one of those rejections came with helpful, encouraging notes. And I met my goal to finish the first round of edits on The Fourth Wall by November’s end.

In short, I’ve been living the writer’s life. I don’t know whether to laugh, or cry, or maybe just read a good book. But I think I’ll call it a month. Happy Thanksgiving, and I’ll see you in December!

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Back to Basics

Posted on November 8, 2013 ·
Image from Flickr by yiorgos georgiou

Image from Flickr by yiorgos georgiou

Last week was scary. Not because a 6-foot tall Grim Reaper jumped from the shadows of my neighbor’s porch and hissed at my children (that was actually pretty great), but because I experienced a serious case of writer’s block. And I’m under contract.

When I received my initial round of edits on The Fourth Wall, I was ecstatic. This is the part, I’d been told, that hurts the most. These are the “big picture” changes, when you have to delete major characters you’ve invested years in, when your favorite scenes are gutted, when you’re asked to rewrite an entire novel in a different point of view (my worst fear).

None of that happened. My editorial letter had lots of suggestions, but the big ones involved adding to the book. This makes sense; I do write flash fiction, after all. Everything I’ve published thus far has been short; most of it was written to a word count: 500 words, 1,000 words, 250 words. When I sent my novel off to WiDo Publishing, it was a trim 45,000 words, and even that seemed indulgent.

Wow, so I get to write more, I thought. No problem!

Here’s the problem. I wrote The Fourth Wall three years ago. Since then, I’ve tinkered with it: plugged up holes, rewritten dialogue, added depth to characters, extended scenes . . . but I couldn’t remember when I’d last added new scenes. Where would they go?

I scrolled up and down the manuscript, trying to see what could be split apart to make room for new material. I typed pages of notes. But I couldn’t see. And that worried me, because without knowing what to write and where to put what I did write, I wasn’t excited about writing at all.

I was stuck.

Time to try something else. On Sunday, I printed a hard copy of my novel, spread out the pages, and began writing notes by hand. I crossed out sentences and scribbled in margins, and soon the only difficult part was keeping up with the ideas.

Somehow, the physical act of holding paper and writing with an actual pen made me feel more in control. And it’s easier to slash through paragraphs on a page, because it doesn’t feel permanent. Yeah, you can create a new document and know your old one is intact somewhere on the computer, but it’s still hard highlighting a paragraph, hitting “delete” and watching it disappear.

Since Sunday, I’ve added 3,000 words to my novel, and more importantly, I’m excited about the new material. It feels like it did when I was writing the first draft; I’m so fully immersed in my characters’ world that I’m jotting notes in bed, at the dinner table—stealing any moment I can. I’ve been waking up at four in the morning, for God’s sake, and I’m not one to emerge from under the covers until the third snooze alarm.

This is when being a writer pays off. When you can reclaim the pure joy of creating something, when you stop and realize, “my job is making up a fictional world and filling it with make-believe people, and dammit, that’s supposed to be fun.”

And it is. In fact, I think I’ll go back to work now. You’ll overlook any typos in this post, won’t you? I’ve been up since four.

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Bring It On

Posted on October 25, 2013 ·
November Moon by Dead Air

November Moon by Dead Air

Most writers work best when pushed to the wall. The deadline is definitely our friend. Which is good, because this week I got the email I’ve been waiting for: my editor has started reading (the novel formerly know as) The Fourth Wall.

This will be the first round of a four-part editing process, and somewhere around the halfway mark, I’ll let you know my publication date. (!!!)

Knowing it would take some time to get to this point, I’d taken on a few more projects:

  • Preparing lesson plans for an essay writing class I hope to start teaching in November.
  • Accepting a surprise invitation from a renowned local artist to perform at Space 55 in November.
  • Signing up for NaNoWriMo because look! November’s almost here! Might as well commit to cranking out 50,000 words on my WIP.

Did I say I was excited to get the email about edits on my novel? I am. And it looks like I’ll be starting those edits around the beginning of . . . you guessed it. November.

Yes, I’m a bit overwhelmed. Yes, I’m smacking myself on the forehead, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. I know you all would forgive me for skipping a few posts . . . but I’ve gotten used to posting on Fridays, and I can be stubborn. So you’ll probably still see me in your inbox each week, although the next four posts may be shorter. 😉

Wish me luck! As for you, November, all I can say is “Bring it on.”

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Making Time (For Other Things)

Posted on October 18, 2013 ·
Image from Flickr by LEOL30

Image from Flickr by LEOL30

On Tuesday afternoon I plopped down on a swivel chair at a vaguely familiar salon and smiled at my hairstylist. She smiled back and said it had been awhile. I agreed and, just so she wouldn’t think I’d been disloyal, pointed out that she’d been the last person to cut my hair.

She stared at me. “Shut. Up.”

“No, really,” I said, and then started to laugh. Because it’s just too ridiculous.

Megan last cut my hair in December. Ten months ago. Sure, I’d trimmed the dead ends a few times, and no, of course I didn’t tell her that.

She went to work, occasionally asking me to remind her how I like the layers, since they’d long grown out. We caught up on each others’ lives and on my way out I promised I’d visit more often.

The problem isn’t my commitments to family, or volunteering, or housework (believe me, it’s not the housework). The problem is I’m conditioned to covet my writing hours. I won’t give them up for anything—not appointments, not grocery shopping, not the salon.

This served me well the years I had six hours a week to write. But since my youngest started school, I typically have six hours a day. You’d think I could spare a trip to Old Navy for some new jeans.

And here’s my secret—I was more motivated to write when I had less time, and I was much more productive. With the whole day stretched before me, I meander a while trying to decide how to fill it. Blog post first? Then perhaps an essay? Or start with my workshop piece for the week and then do some research for my novel? I sure have a lot of time to think about this! And I have a whole other day tomorrow . . . maybe I’ll write my blog post then and work on a short story today.

Sigh.

A few weeks ago, after my children were home from school, my son wanted me to play a video game with him. “Okay, I’ll be there in a minute,” I said. “I just have to unload the dishwasher first, and mop the floors.”

He was disappointed, and wanted to know something. Why can’t I do those kinds of things while he’s at school, so I can play with him when he gets home?

Good question, kid. One you won’t have to ask again.

Moral of the story: Too much of anything is a bad thing. Balance is a good thing. And a nice haircut doesn’t hurt either.

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Fall Break

Posted on October 11, 2013 ·
Image from Flickr by knitsteel

Image from Flickr by knitsteel

I’m taking a vacation from blogging this week–my kids are out for Fall Break, and we’re enjoying the cooler weather (okay fine, we’re also playing a lot of Super Mario Galaxy). 🙂

I hope you’re having a good October, and that you’re getting ready for NaNoWriMo next month. I’m working on character sketches and my plot outline, so that come November 1st, I’ll be ready to go. Let me know if you’re participating so we can buddy up. Leave your username in the comments or drop me a line via my contact page.

See you next Friday!

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Just Enjoy It

Posted on October 4, 2013 ·
Image from Flickr by jronaldlee

Image from Flickr by jronaldlee

Last week I finished reading a book that left my head spinning. From the first line to the last, I was held captive by the author’s voice. Every sentence felt right. The story was unique, and the characters stayed true. You could tell this writer worked hard, probably for years, to perfect her debut novel.

The book is Zazen by Vanessa Veselka. About a year ago I read her short story “Just before Elena” in Tin House and loved it. Later, I recognized her name in an issue of Poets & Writers, and I made a note to check out her novel. I am so glad that I did. I have several titles waiting on my TBR list, but I’ll probably read Zazen again first.

It’s important to have books like this—the ones we completely fall in love with. They’re the kind we’re told to read, as in “Read the books you want to write.” They’re the kind that made us want to become writers.

But when one is this good, it can be pretty humbling. At some point, all writers must accept the fact that there will always be someone better.

If the payoff is getting to enjoy a book like Zazen, that’s fine. It’s refreshing to read as a reader and not as a writer. I don’t want to dissect the prose and figure out why it works and try to analyze the way Veselka’s character stays sympathetic while she’s terrorizing her city with bomb threats—never mind. It works, that’s all. Let it stay magic.

What I did take away from Veselka’s writing is that I can never let myself become lazy. You can’t imitate talent, but you can embody other qualities of great artists—hard work and high standards—and come up with something fine. After finishing Zazen, I wanted to comb through my own novel and make absolutely sure that each sentence, if it had to stand on its own, was one I could be proud of. When you have the cushion of tens of thousands of words, it’s easy to let a lazy phrase slip through. Well, Veselka didn’t. And I know, as a reader, I appreciate that.

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Why So Serious?

Posted on September 27, 2013 ·
Image from Flickr by purplemattfish

Image from Flickr by purplemattfish

I admit it—my writing usually hovers on the Dark Side. I’ve written about a lonely old man caught in an earthquake, realizing he’s prepared to die, about a destitute single mother whose vision is so clouded by guilt she imagines her daughter’s unhappiness instead of seeing the child’s joy, about a young girl mired in depression to the point she uses dreams to escape.

Geez, Elizabeth, why so serious?

In my defense, most of these stories end well. What makes a piece of writing a story—and not a vignette—is that change takes place. (It took me a long time to figure that out, so there you go. You’re welcome.) For most of my characters the change is a positive one.

I tend to favor serious subjects in my nonfiction, too. But last month I wrote something purely for fun, had a blast doing it, and the response was amazing. It’s kind of nice resisting the Dark Side—embracing a simple, light-hearted essay, making people laugh, and basking in the “likes” and “shares” and smiley faces. I want to be a happy writer!

Yet here I am, wrestling with a boy who’s on the razor’s edge of becoming dangerous, and he knows it. I feel for him, because he’s scared; he doesn’t yet know what he’s capable of. In the beginning of the story he’s discovered something pure and he’s trying to cling to it, although it doesn’t belong to him. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I want to find out. It’s hard. I’ve been working on this story for months.

And there’s this bright corner of my mind beckoning me with the memory of my daughter’s first volleyball game; it would make a great essay—uplifting, sweet . . . but no. The Dark Side prevails.

I guess I could blame my brother. I liked cheery pop music until Michael converted me to heavy metal at the tender age of eleven. As a preteen, thanks to Metallica saturation, I was concerned with issues of drug abuse (“Master of Puppets”), capital punishment (“Ride the Lightning”), and insanity (“Welcome Home [Sanitarium]”).

Then there were video stores, where Michael and I scoured the horror section looking for the most gruesome, sickening, and unholy movies available (The Gates of Hell, anyone?). I wonder what I’d be writing if I’d had an older sister instead. I probably wouldn’t even be a writer; I’d be normal.

I’ll have to remember to thank my brother.

Note: The above was written on Tuesday. On Wednesday I learned of a double tragedy at my job that became more devastating as the week went on. My brother, in an attempt to cheer me up, emailed a YouTube link, which I followed expecting something funny. He said it would be funny. It was a gory brain-eating scene from The Return of the Living Dead, which had me laughing through my tears, mostly due to the corny music and bad hair.

Thank you, Michael.

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