It took me twelve years to finish my first novel. I had notes, character sketches, and whole conversations on yellow legal pages, bedside notebooks, and paper towels. I also had gaps between scenes with no idea how to connect them, and months when I wrote nothing.
We are told not to ask relatives to critique our work for fear of hearing only glowing praise. This would have been my mother’s response: “Oh, how wonderful! My baby wrote a book!” My daughters, however, can be brutally honest. I tried out various notes and ideas on them over the years, until Rebecca finally stopped me cold. “Look, when you’re gone, I don’t want to have to go through your notes to find out what happened. So get it done!”
At which point I joined a critique group. Minuet and Serenade was finished within the year.
A critique buddy can be your best friend. Or not. It depends on what sort of help you are looking for. I was randomly paired with a writer who is still one of my best beta readers. She has since moved out of state but we still rely on each other’s editorial opinions. On the other hand, another writer I was paired with defended every word she wrote, informing me that she had taught English. Eventually, I stopped making suggestions, except to say, “As a reader, I must tell you this phrase made me stumble.”
I think the key to finding a compatible critique partner, aside from dumb luck, is to work with someone who has a similar writing style similar. Not necessarily the same genre, but someone whose work habits mirror your own. The work I gave my buddy was as clean and well-edited as I could make it, and her pages were the same. Still a rough draft, but certainly readable. I have been paired since with writers who would give me pages that amounted to stream-of-conscious ideas that must have made sense to them, but my trying to wade through them was not helpful to either of us.
My first buddy and I would exchange emails with our current work attached, then meet weekly to go over details. As we each edited the other’s work, we noted spelling and grammar in passing, but did not dwell on such basics.
Her story dealt with the attack of a young girl in the hayloft of a barn in the early forties. I told her I wanted to see the buttons pop off her dress and bounce on the floor. I wanted the girl to be worried about tearing the flour sack dress her mother had made. I wanted to see the dust motes in the sunbeams where they pierced like lasers through the knotholes in the side of the barn.
My story is told of three people escaping through a tunnel as Nazis raided the house above. My partner wanted to be able to feel the terror of these people crawling hastily in darkness, hear the mud squishing on the floor and walls of the tunnel, see the filth on their clothes…one of them a very young and unwilling bride caught in an arranged marriage.
Both of our stories were better for having each other’s support and opinions.
A good critique partner will keep you focused, and point out where you have veered from your path. Setting a regular meeting schedule helps, too. For writers who tend to procrastinate (cough), it holds your feet to the fire. Believe me, you don’t want to show up at that weekly meeting empty-handed.
About the Author
Suzan McKenzie has been to all but two states and lived in seven of them, thanks to 30 years as the wife of a Navy pilot. True to family tradition, her three children and five grandchildren are scattered around five states and two countries. Her favorite activities are reading, writing, quilting, and traveling to catch up with her far-flung family. She currently lives in Midlothian, VA with her husband of 53 years and a rambunctious labradoodle.