THE MANNERLY ART OF CRITIQUE.

 

by Peg Robinson. c.1997.

 

 

 

Distribute freely. The more folks who know how to give and take crit

 

ethically, humanely, and usefully, the better.

 

 

 

One of the things I was beginning to suspect just watching the

 

dialogues go by on the newsgroup has been confirmed reading the responses

 

to my query about a crit essay. I thought maybe folks were scaring

 

themselves with the idea that crit was some fabulous, arcane pastime which

 

could only be done well by experts with occult knowledge. You know --

 

big-time woooo-woooo stuff? The first thing I want to say is that it isn't

 

that way -- not for the person who hopes to crit, or for the person who

 

wants her work critiqued.

 

Yes, there are useful concepts you can pick up, there's vocabulary

 

that comes in handy. The more you practice critiquing and being critiqued

 

the more broad, flexible, and complex your understanding of written

 

material will be. You'll develop a better idea of what makes things work,

 

and what makes them fail, and you'll be able to be more precise. I suppose

 

that, so far as it goes, that's the arcane side of the thing. But you

 

don't have to be a hoary old vet of years of classes to be a perceptive and

 

helpful critic, and you don't have to go around with your head hung low,

 

yours eyes to the ground, and a "Sorry, but I don't know much" on your lips

 

to be a participant in a crit environment. You don't have to have been

 

sanctified, or have achieved enlightenment and been released from the wheel

 

of birth and rebirth before you can safely allow yourself to face the

 

rigors of being critiqued. First off, you'll never get that 'woooo-woooo'

 

arcana if you always sit things out on the sidelines and never take part

 

yourself. Second, and far more important, in an environment like ASC most

 

of the readers already have a much better understanding of written material

 

than they are giving themselves credit for, and most of the writers are

 

more than capable of listening to people's observations, and applying them

 

practically to their own work.

 

Most of you know darned good and well when a piece of material seems

 

disorganized and poorly presented, you know when a stretch of dialogue is

 

vivid, believable and revealing, you know when a character seems to jump

 

off the page -- and when a character seems wooden and artificial. You know

 

when a story's chronology is pretty clear to you -- even when for some

 

reason the writer has chosen to jump around in the time line -- and you

 

also know when, no matter how simple the presentation of time is, you still

 

end up badly confused as to what happened when. You know when you find

 

yourself being shoved into so many of the characters' minds so fast that

 

you end up confused and dizzy, you know when the pace of the story seems

 

jarringly uneven, or way too fast, or way too slow, or slow or fast in all

 

the wrong places. You know when a story seems well balanced, with enough

 

of everything it needs, and all the bits and pieces landing in the right

 

places to do the most good -- and you also know when there seem to be <

 

missing elements, or when the structure is lopsided, with too much time and

 

attention given to one set of elements, not enough to others, and the whole

 

thing assembled in ways and patterns that are lumpy, bumpy and unattractive

 

to you.

 

Some of this stuff you know because you had English 101, some of it

 

you know from talking about books with friends, some of it you learned from

 

working on your own writing, some you know from reading posts put up by the

 

'cognoscenti' -- but most of it you know because there's hardly a person

 

here who isn't a life-long, hard-case, addicted reader. Not many people

 

put up with the misery of taking part in a newsgroup who aren't verbally

 

oriented -- it's a pure print medium, and folks who can't live without

 

visual or audio feedback don't waste their time with it. A newsgroup like

 

ASC, where the majority of the postings are story, not one-paragraph

 

messages, is the *last* place to look for very many folks who aren't

 

bad-ass text junkies. So there's hardly a soul here who isn't by natural

 

inclination and years of experience at least at the intermediate level of

 

literary sophistication. Certainly most of you are well enough grounded to

 

contribute to crit, and to understand it when you receive it.

 

What many of you are missing is not the comprehension of writing that

 

would allow you to comment. Instead, you're missing the skills,

 

disciplines, philosophy, and manners that would allow you to crit and be

 

critiqued 'safely,' without doing each other and yourselves damage. You

 

aren't used to having to think hard enough about your perceptions and

 

intuitions to see them clearly. You aren't used to presenting them quietly

 

and dispassionately. You aren't used to thinking not in terms of "what do

 

I like," but "what makes this thing work." You aren't used to having

 

dialogues about writing with the folks who created it, and who tend to get

 

very defensive about it. Many of you writers aren't used to gritting your

 

teeth, listening, and not defending and justifying yourselves at every

 

juncture. Unfortunately, those skills matter. Without them you can run

 

into serious trouble -- or cause serious trouble.

 

 

 

Crit can be seen as an interactive 'combat sport,' pursued in public

 

by more than one person -- while reading and writing are fairly peaceable,

 

and usually pursued in solitude. Having the skills to read and write give

 

you the background information you need to crit and be critiqued -- but

 

they don't provide you with the experience and skills to take part in

 

non-injurious ways.

 

Imagine it like this: let's say you are a private practitioner of

 

T'ai Chi. Every day you perform the movements, happily going through the

 

graceful motions of the solitaire of martial arts. You may be very good,

 

you may just be a happy putzer, but you are familiar with all the

 

movements, you have enough skill to do most of them without falling on your

 

tailbone and being taken to the emergency room -- but you are used to doing

 

them *alone*. The most social you usually get with your discipline is to

 

go to the park or the dojo and stand in line with other folks, and dance

 

the dance in public. But you still perform that dance alone. It isn't

 

interactive.

 

 

 

Now imagine that you, the T'ai Chi putter, go down to the local judo

 

dojo. There, all around you, you see folks performing movements almost

 

identical to those you practice in T'ai Chi. All the steps, the gestures,

 

the motions are at least similar to those you know so well; but instead of

 

being performed in solitary isolation, they are all being used

 

interactively and at high speed. Folks are jumping, bouncing, chopping at

 

each other, flipping each other around. Wow! They are doing the same

 

thing you do, but look at the neat stuff they are doing with it! Maybe you

 

could do that, too: after all, you know the moves, right?

 

Um, probably not, without a bit of preparation and care. You know the

 

same skills in terms of moves, but you may not know the skills that allow

 

those moves to be performed interactively without someone getting hurt,

 

without getting someone angry with you, and without accidentally getting

 

confused about why the interaction occurs. You may make the mistake of

 

thinking that the 'fights' are real, serious, and angry, or you may

 

accidentally do something that ensures that they will become real, serious,

 

and angry. You may just fail to show respect for your opponent. You may

 

screw up by pushing someone who is practicing in a direction she isn't

 

capable of going yet, and as a result do long-term, if not permanent,

 

damage to her development; and you may do something that will get you hurt

 

too. If you've offered yourself as a sparring partner you may over-react

 

when someone with experience, but no clear sense of your confusion and

 

inexperience, attacks you faster, harder and more skillfully than you

 

expected. You may equally be upset when you find the partner you got is

 

every bit as new at this as you are, and he or she lights into you with as

 

wild and uncertain an understanding of the ethics and attitudes as the most

 

raw and 'hot-shit' Kung-Fu movie lover who ever thought she was Bruce Lee

 

incarnate, ready to conquer the world with a few fast kicks and an echoing

 

"hi-i-i-i-i-i-i-YAAAAAH!!!!"

 

What you need is a fast run-down of the house rules of the dojo, the

 

philosophy behind the skills themselves, the goal of the practices, the

 

best way to present yourself to ensure that everyone comes away having

 

learned something, and without the kind of damage that leads to therapy and

 

a quick check of burial benefits on insurance policies. The same is true

 

in regards to critique. That's what I'm going to try to provide.

 

A lot of the material below is pretty obvious: for that I apologize.

 

I'm afraid that in many cases 'obvious' stands repeating. This isn't

 

because folks are stupid, or innately rude. It's because even the best

 

intentioned, most mannerly, and most humble types find it easier to

 

navigate new areas of activity when they have a little 'do this, don't do

 

that' crib sheet. Like the centipede trying to figure out which foot comes

 

first, it's very easy to get lost in conflicting ideas of 'how to behave,'

 

'what my goals are,' and 'should I sound like Rex Reed on a

 

red-letter-rotten day.' Common sense and common courtesy can end up all

 

tangled up with false expectations, false hopes, and very real fears and

 

vulnerabilities. So please forgive me for stating a lot of rules and

 

principals that you learned in Kindergarten. As Robert Fulgam has pointed

 

out, we all learned *most* of what we need to know back there in

 

Kindergarten -- the problem is learning how to keep applying those lessons

 

over and over in new situations throughout our lives.

 

Two final comments, before I start. First, regardless of whether you

 

wish to crit or be critiqued, I STRONGLY recommend you read all the essay

 

-- or at least both the section dealing with giving crit, and the section

 

dealing with taking it. This is not so you can then shake your finger and

 

scold your sparring partners for 'breach of etiquette' when they mess up.

 

It's so you understand better the kinds of difficulties and uncertainties

 

they are dealing with, and can be more tolerant and flexible when things

 

do go wrong. You see, things WILL go wrong. People will make mistakes,

 

accidents will happen, newbies will mess up, and so will experienced

 

old-timers -- and you need to understand what makes the whole thing

 

difficult from *both* sides of the process, so that you can be ready for

 

the inevitable bloopers, and will be able to act graciously,

 

compassionately, and with a sense of humor and understanding.

 

 

 

Which leads to my second point. I've made *every* mistake I describe

 

in this essay -- to my deep embarrassment. Worse, I will make every one of

 

these mistakes again. And again. And again. Taking part in the critical

 

process is not one of those things that anyone ever gets perfect at. You

 

and your partners won't be perfect at it either. That's why the rules and

 

philosophy exist: not to make it possible for fallible people to read them

 

once and suddenly become perfect, but so that fallible people can improve,

 

understand each other, deal with a difficult situation, and be forgiving

 

and forgiven, and still accomplish the hard work implied by the process

 

itself. It's a way of making fallibility endurable, even if it isn't

 

perfect and ideal. You see, we live in an imperfect and non-ideal world,

 

surrounded by imperfect and non-ideal people -- and are a bit rough around

 

the edges ourselves, when it comes down to it. We either learn to deal with

 

that -- or we take up serious hermitting as a hobby. Me, I never liked

 

being a true hermit-- too boring, and grocery acquisition is a problem.

 

 

 

 

 

FIRST: HOW TO GIVE CRITIQUE (We'll cover taking it next.)

 

 

 

OK. The subject for the day is "Critique." Big topic, yes?

 

Absolutely. So, to begin with, I'm going to narrow the field. There are

 

two basic approaches to crit, and one of them doesn't work well in an

 

environment like ASC: that's the approach of the professional critic

 

reviewing and evaluating the professional artist. The attitude of the pro

 

critic is 'anything goes;' his persona is that of the Watchdog, defending

 

the purses of the consumer and the high ideals of art; and his motto is "I

 

calls 'em as I sees 'em...and if you don't like it, take a hike." The

 

professional critic is loyal to the consumer, and to the world of art as a

 

whole, and he or she owes no particular consideration to the artist. The

 

critic is there to protect the world from trash, shoddy craftsmanship, and

 

trivial sensationalism. It's an unpleasant but honorable calling when

 

practiced by an ethical and competent master of the art. Granted, there

 

are a lot of vicious, pompous, meshugenah schmucks plying the trade; but

 

many a critic, be he or she ever so spiny and ill-tempered, is hoping to

 

ensure a better and brighter world. But for all his or her curmudgeonly

 

virtues, a pro critic is a Bad Thing to set loose on a band of amateurs --

 

particularly unprepared amateurs who are honorably trying to pursue their

 

education in the safe shallows of a supportive and interested community of

 

peers. When amateurs finally decide to make the break and go pro they'll

 

be appropriate game for the Big Game Hunters-- in the meantime it's best to

 

treat them as a protected species, and let them develop some size and scope

 

before cutting them down to size.

 

That leads us to the second approach to criticism. This is the

 

approach of the teacher, the editor, the workshop director, the dramatic

 

director, the friend, and the peer. The idea is that the work and the

 

artist are both still 'In Progress.' Comments are intended to help and

 

support the artists, give them insight into their own work, provide a clear

 

and accurate view of the responses the artist has generated, to make

 

suggestions on areas of potential improvement, and provide information

 

regarding the standard assumptions, skills, and craft of the trade.

 

Negative comments are as appropriate as positive ones, but they should be

 

expressed politely, they should probably come in moderate doses, and they

 

should be aimed at specific and clear-cut problem spots in a story or

 

consistent patterns of failure in a series of stories. The idea is to make

 

it easier

 

for the writer to see her own work clearly -- not to hurt her, make her

 

ashamed, or to confuse the heck out of her.

 

In spite of the occasional helpless cries of the writers, this is

 

not necessarily a field that should be restricted to old hands, experts,

 

professionals, or fellow artists. A complete newbie can have as much

 

valuable insight as an experienced expert, though the nature of their

 

observations and insights often differ. The old timer is far more likely

 

to focus on technical elements, polish, mechanics, and craft; the newbie,

 

however, often offers vivid, spontaneous perceptions of how a work as a

 

whole affects the reader. Both forms of insight are valuable to a learning

 

writer.

 

<WG> Over the years I've begun to suspect that the reason many

 

artists hate having newbies comment on their work is that newbies, like

 

kids, so often say clearly and unignorably the one thing you didn't want to

 

know about your results -- but probably ought to hear anyway. An 'expert'

 

will be calm, dispassionate, and address nice, impersonal issues like your

 

use of symbolism and manipulations of time. You can feel safe, and

 

intellectual, and hide your heart behind the academic distance. But a

 

newbie will come out and say "I understand the story -- but I didn't like

 

anyone in it very much. They were all so angry all the time." And the

 

poor author is left floundering. She wanted all those angry people -- but

 

also wanted the reader to care about them. It hurts to know that, for

 

better or worse, the anger was clear -- but the reasons why those angry

 

people were worth loving somehow got left out. All of which goes to show

 

that, if you're an artist, you need that spontaneous response to keep you

 

from hiding your head in the academic sands -- and if you're a newbie you

 

should be aware that the sincerity and spontaneity of your reactions is

 

likely to whack the writer over the funny bone, and send her screaming away

 

in agony. BOTH SIDES SHOULD BE PREPARED FOR THIS.

 

Anyway, back to the main topic. All this feedback is ideally given in

 

small enough doses with enough encouragement thrown in to allow the

 

beginner to get a bit of a grip on her own work without being overwhelmed

 

by negativism, rejection, gloom, despair, and other forms of funk. It's a

 

tricky proposition: if you decide to take part in the critical process,

 

you have to balance the obligation to be honest and open with the equal

 

obligation not to run the artist over like the Roadrunner usually runs down

 

Wiley Coyote. Most of us would like to believe that all we have to do to

 

be fair and constructive is holler "BEEE-BEEEEEP!!!!!!!" on our way in, and

 

leave it at that -- but that is seldom true. Most artists need a bit more

 

cushioning and consideration, no matter how well they understand that your

 

intentions are for the best.

 

So, now we have the basics in hand. The point is to help the artist

 

improve in general, and to help her improve the piece under consideration

 

in particular, with as little damage to her ego and optimism as possible.

 

You've decided you want to give it a try, but you don't really know where

 

to start, or how to proceed once you do. Fair enough -- though most of the

 

wisdom you need is contained in the central concept of 'helping.' I know

 

I'll say that a lot, but that's because it really is the heart of the

 

thing. The idea is to help, and anything that gets in the way of that goal

 

is 'wrong' in terms of the spirit of the art, even if it's 'right' in terms

 

of technique, or perception, or genius. But a general rule set -- a sort

 

of concise guide-- isn't a bad idea. So here goes.

 

 

 

First, some hints of Crucial Importance. The Rules of Safe Critiquing

 

 

 

1. Only crit those who have INVITED crit, or who have given you permission

 

when you ask. If they impose limits, like "I'm new at this, go easy, "

 

respect those limits. If they ask you to avoid particular types of crit,

 

or conversely to pay particular attention to an area they are working on,

 

respect those requests, too. It's not a bad idea to consider writing and

 

asking permission to do a serious public crit even if the writer HAS asked

 

for that kind of feedback...and be prepared to at least give some idea of

 

what you want to say. It isn't that the writer lied when she asked -- but

 

people change their minds, and even the most sincere find themselves

 

quivering when the reaction they get is worse than they had really

 

expected, so try making the extra effort in the interests of peace. It

 

shouldn't be necessary if the writer requested response, but that way at

 

least the writer knows she had only herself to blame if she doesn't like

 

the final reckoning.

 

If a crit is already underway on the newsgroup, and it isn't a 'tough

 

crit' (about which more later), then it is usually all right to step in

 

without asking permission -- but do follow all the other rules of

 

etiquette. The main thing is to try to be sure not to leap out of the

 

shrubby and ambush a writer who was not expecting crit, or not expecting

 

'serious' crit. No matter how naive that lack of expectation may appear to

 

you, the fact is that there are two very different schools of thought as to

 

what one can and should expect when making a public posting -- and it's

 

best to assume the worst and compensate, rather than reduce a writer to

 

tears or rage because she was not prepared for crit. Treat it as a

 

'multi-cultural' issue, and know that the two schools of thought are not in

 

agreement, and need to work hard not to hurt each other inadvertently.

 

 

 

2. The point is not to 'win out' over the writer. It's to help. If you

 

make a point, and it becomes clear that the writer can't use it, either

 

through her failing or yours, or just because it doesn't fit at the time,

 

and it isn't merely a matter of her misunderstanding what you were saying,

 

then *stop pushing it.* I'm serious. More damage has been done in crit

 

by "I'm going to win you over or go down trying" attitudes than by anything

 

else short of true malice. I know it's hard -- this is one of my very

 

weakest points in crit, either as the giver or the taker. I tend to feel

 

like I have to fight everything out to the bitter end; but it is a very bad

 

attitude to have. Either a piece of information, once understood, can be

 

used by the writer, or it can't. That's all, she wrote. Leave it there.

 

You lose no face in passing up a fight.

 

 

 

3. Don't use the crit as a chance to show off. Again, your intention

 

should be to help...not use the poor writer and her work as a golden

 

opportunity to show how very clever you are. Witty repartee, wicked knife

 

work, sly innuendoes, and lectures that have more to do with what you think

 

in general than with how the work can be helped in specific are

 

inappropriate, and very likely to be resented like hell...and that's

 

perfectly reasonable. It is hard enough for the writer to endure crit that

 

is helpful and well intended, without feeling like she's being mocked,

 

used, and shoved to one side so someone else can prance all over the

 

bleeding corpse of the story. For what it's worth, the prolonged lecture

 

is another of my weaknesses... bet you couldn't guess.

 

 

 

4. If the writer gets angry and hurt you are, by definition, no longer

 

helping. That may not be your fault -- the writer may be being obtuse,

 

hypersensitive, overly defensive, or just plain be having a bad hair day.

 

It is still true: an author who is angry, miserable, and defensive is no

 

longer one you are helping, regardless of your intentions, or who is at

 

fault. Either stop, apologize for the hurt you have caused intentionally

 

or otherwise, and get out of the discussion -- or at least take a good

 

stiff drink, a deep breath, look the situation over carefully, and try to

 

see if you can figure out a way to give your perceptions that will help.

 

 

 

5. This one shouldn't need to be said, but I'm afraid my experience is

 

that it does need saying, and saying frequently. NO NAME CALLING. No

 

intentional insults, no put-downs, no political or religious polemics, no

 

scolding, no lecturing, no characterizations of the writer as a hack, or a

 

nut, or a sicko. No assumptions that she deserves to be dressed down. No

 

comments on morals, ethics, sexual perversions, NO NAME CALLING. At all.

 

Ever.

 

 

 

6. While we're here, be careful of humor -- done well, it can soften a

 

lot of otherwise painful crit -- but if it misses, it can leave the writer

 

not only feeling like she was shamed, but also mocked. I'm not saying "use

 

no humor." It can be a saving grace. Just be careful how you use it, and

 

if it does misfire, apologize fast! A writer undergoing a crit usually

 

isn't at her best in terms of her sense of humor anyway, and it's a good

 

idea to be aware of that, and be ready to make amends.

 

 

 

7. Don't crit any story you aren't really interested in, and can't

 

generate any positive feelings towards. In a classroom setting, or the

 

professional world, you might be stuck having to crit work you really

 

despise. In a situation like ASC you don't have to do that, and it's a lot

 

easier on everyone involved if you pass, or sit it out on the sidelines.

 

That way you're far less likely to find yourself posting negative and

 

damaging "it sucks" messages, and the writer is a lot less likely to feel

 

like she's under direct and personal attack.

 

 

 

8. Read your crit before you post it. In fact, it isn't a bad idea to

 

wait at least an hour or two before you read it, to get a little distance

 

from what you wrote. It's amazing how prose you wrote in the heat of the

 

moment looks nasty, negative, overworked, hyper, or just plain gonzo when

 

you go back later. Take the time to think it over, and adjust it before

 

you post it.

 

 

 

9. If a writer indicates she's had enough -- either of crit in general,

 

or your crit in particular -- STOP. Don't try to get in the last word,

 

don't get snide and call her a wuss, don't keep on with your central point.

 

STOP. This is the equivalent of a wrestler slapping the mat. You have

 

been given an honorable sign that you are at the edge of a writer's

 

tolerance levels, and to go further could either leave her badly hurt, or

 

it could get you badly hurt as she stops trying to pull her own punches and

 

behave well, and lights into you with the gloves off and the rules of

 

polite criticism thrown out the window. Grumbling that you're only trying

 

to help is invalid: once a writer has indicated you aren't helping, for any

 

reason, you're under obligation to back off. You may think she's a

 

lily-livered coward with the mind of a slug and the endurance of a

 

Chihuahua, but at least she is an honest coward: she told you her limits,

 

and you are under obligation to respect them.

 

 

 

As I'm not in favor of censorship, I'd like to make a point. Almost

 

any of the no-nos can occur in a forum other than crit. There is a place

 

for arguing about everything from race, religion, and politics, to the

 

price of bananas in Denmark. That place is *not* in the context of

 

critical feedback -- or at least not of public critique of amateurs. A

 

writer, particularly a beginner, is a vulnerable being, and most vulnerable

 

when she's opened herself up to crit of her work. It's an act of cruelty

 

to take someone who has her shields down, and use the existence of her work

 

and her willingness to allow it to be critiqued publicly as an excuse for

 

waging war on her religion, ethics, political affiliations, emotional

 

dysfunctions, obsessions, neuroses, sexuality, or such-like. Reserve the

 

wars to save civilization for other arenas. Even if you want to fight

 

about the issue with that person in particular, understand that there is a

 

clear distinction between her beliefs and goals, and her writing skills,

 

and that the two things should be pursued separately. If you really

 

believe that the story you're looking at *demands* your moral objections,

 

then

 

at the very least limit yourself to a quiet, rational, private email

 

explaining your concerns. If it seems to you to be a general issue not

 

specific to the writer then start a secondary thread addressing the issue

 

as a general topic, without finger pointing and accusations. It's one

 

thing

 

to fling yourself at a professional -- it really is another to go into

 

combat with a self-confessed amateur, even in a public forum. Don't use

 

the good will and openness of the artists, and their willingness to learn,

 

to get in a few cuts in public before they know you're armed and deadly.

 

 

 

Next, how it's done: things to look for, areas to comment on, general

 

principals, good stuff like that. This one is a lot easier than it looks

 

going in. When it comes down to it, almost anything you can find to say

 

about a piece can give a writer information she needs or will at least be

 

interested in, so long as she doesn't feel threatened or beaten about the

 

head and ears. Anything from technical features to general impressions,

 

little things you loved, little things that you really didn't like. (Avoid

 

the word 'hate' -- even if it's true. No point in setting an already

 

vulnerable person on edge.) Any of the above can be of interest to a

 

writer. If nothing else, unless it is a very old piece, or unless she's

 

finally burned out on the bloody thing, a story will hold the writer's

 

attention like a mirror will fascinate a parakeet -- those of us who write

 

stare at our own work in catatonic entrancement for as long as we think we

 

have one thing more we can learn from it, or one more serious change we can

 

make to improve it. Letting go is harder than you might think. So don't

 

worry too hard that you have nothing to say that would be of help or

 

interest -- the very fact that you're writing about *her story* gives you a

 

heck of an edge, and the fact that writers think laterally helps even more

 

-- we can free-associate to revelations by way of some very odd entry

 

points. However, there are a few pointers I can give you in terms of what

 

to address, what not to address, and how not to address it, that may help

 

you out a bit.

 

 

 

1.a. Try to determine what the writer was trying to do before you start

 

making comments or suggestions. A lot of annoyance would be avoided if

 

folks who liked one type, style, or genre of writing would resist the

 

temptation to convert a writer who writes another type of material. I'm

 

not saying a 'character writer' like me can't learn a lot from someone who

 

likes action/adventure stuff. In a perfect world we would all be able to

 

tell stories that were strong in every respect. That doesn't work out that

 

well in practice. There's only so much room in any piece to accomplish a

 

story, and most of us have to settle for one fairly simple set of stylistic

 

and genre goals at a time. So, when you look at a piece, try to decide

 

whether the writer was trying to do a tragic soap-opera style piece, a

 

good, five-hankie-five-orgasm round of hurt/comfort, a knee-slapper of a

 

funny parody, a scathing satire, a rousing action/adventure tale, a

 

mystery....you get the idea. There is no point in telling a person who is

 

intentionally doing a moody, introspective bit of character writing that

 

she'd be a lot better writer if she tried for a bit more in the way of

 

monsters, blazing guns, daring rescues, and dashing heroes.

 

You can, however, tell a writer if you see her handling a clearly

 

action-based story (or section of a story) in ways that are more suitable

 

to a soap-opera or an introspective piece...so long as that is damaging her

 

results. The same applies to other cases of style working against the

 

intent of a story or sequence. For example, I have to work very hard to

 

remember not to let a lot of 'thinky-feely' stuff get into my action

 

sequences. I think stories out 'thinky-feely' -- but writing the fast

 

stuff in that mode takes all the energy and excitement out of it for the

 

readers. That kind of mishandling happens surprisingly often, and is worth

 

mention. Nothing worse than trying to write one sort of thing, but doing

 

it in a way that muddies it up, and gets in the way of your intended goal.

 

 

 

1.b The exception to the rule: if someone shows real and decided talent in

 

a particular area, even if it isn't the one she is aiming for, it's not a

 

bad idea to say so. You want to be careful how you say it: don't leave the

 

impression that she's no good at type A, so she might as well take type B

 

as a consolation prize. But many of us don't *know* we're good in

 

secondary areas. I know: seems dumb, doesn't it? But it's true. It's one

 

of those 'can't see the forest for the trees' things. I've been helped

 

enormously by people in my life who have taken the time to tell me I'm

 

reasonably good at dialogue, and at using humor to balance out otherwise

 

dark or bland material -- and being told has allowed me to use those skills

 

more intentionally, and with more control, and to recognize that I have

 

areas of strength that can counteract or even eliminate areas of weakness.

 

So do tell a writer about secondary skills and talents.

 

 

 

2. An extension of rule one. Not only do you want to understand the genre

 

and style the writer is using, but you want as much as possible to

 

understand the shape, and feel, and theme of the story she's trying to

 

tell. It isn't much help to tell someone that it would be much better with

 

a happy ending, if everything in the piece was written to lead inevitably

 

to a tragic demise. Any comments you make should be aimed at helping make

 

this story the best version of itself it could be, not at turning it into

 

some other story entirely. Try to identify elements that make the story

 

work well, and those that reduce the effectiveness. But don't simply start

 

turning it into a whole different piece. Leave that sort of revisionism to

 

folks like the Disney people, who feel free to impose a happy ending on

 

anything.

 

 

 

3. Basic building blocks of literature: structure, style, voice, choice of

 

POV, dramatic line, use of dialogue, presentation of character, plot,

 

chronological progressions, pacing, theme. If you have the right turn of

 

mind no doubt you can think of more, but I'm going brain-dead, here. Any

 

of the technical elements of writing are worth comment, if you found

 

something special and good, or something that didn't work very well. Don't

 

feel like you have to talk academese to comment on anything, though: it's

 

nice if you and the writer share a common technical language, but you don't

 

have to know all the 'professional terms' to say "I thought it might have

 

been better if this scene had been written as so-and-so saw it". Yes,

 

someone who slings lit-jargon would cut to the chase with "this would have

 

been more effective from so-and-so's POV" -- but in the long

 

run, you both said the same thing, now didn't you? And you didn't even

 

spend that many more words. So don't get hung up over academia-babble.

 

It's not that important, unless you're planning on getting a 'status

 

jargon' degree.

 

Please note that academic and technical comments are useful and

 

desirable if you see any -- though line by line proof-reading is usually a

 

bit excessive. There are a lot of you who do have the background, or the

 

mind set, to approach crit from that angle, and there is a lot to be gained

 

from that. Further, if you see someone else using a clinical, academic

 

approach, don't go ballistic and assume they are trying to one-up everyone

 

else, or lay down the law, or brutalize the writer -- the odds are very

 

good that they just come from a background that makes that their normal

 

approach to crit. Read it, learn from it -- but don't get wired about it

 

unless it's very clear that the critic was taking the approach without the

 

writer's acceptance, or in the face of her objections. By defending the

 

writer when she doesn't need defending you may scare away a critic she

 

appreciates.

 

 

 

4. I don't think you need a long string of vocabulary and memorized

 

concepts to be a good and useful critic. I do think you need to have a

 

good eye, you need to think very hard, and you need to express what you see

 

and think very clearly and as specifically as possible. Remember, you're

 

trying to help someone. Sloppy observations, unclear comments, hazy

 

generalizations, and lazy summaries are NOT a help. I've said elsewhere,

 

crit is HARD WORK. I wasn't kidding. It can be a lot of fun, it can make

 

you feel like you really gave someone a hand in a hard spot -- but it isn't

 

easy to do well. If you don't look very clearly at the work, and your own

 

responses to it, you can end up subjecting a writer to the kind of

 

frustration a doctor would feel if you walked into the office and said "It

 

hurts," without telling him *what* hurts, how it hurts, or what you might

 

have done previously to make it hurt -- and the writer is probably more

 

frustrated than the doctor. It's her most personal self that has in some

 

way failed, and you aren't telling her enough to know how the heck to even

 

see it, much less fix it.

 

Try to be as clear as possible. "I got bored with the story" isn't a

 

lot of help. "I got bored after he killed the wombat, and you never won me

 

back" is more help. "I got bored during the long introspective passage

 

after the death of the wombat" is even more help. "The introspective

 

passage is necessary, but you have to find a way to break it up, and insert

 

more interest, so the pacing doesn't bog down" can be a whole heck of a lot

 

of help. As you can see, the more precisely you can narrow down a problem

 

the better. In the same sense a good, clear description of how a section

 

of a story made you feel, how you responded to a particular character, what

 

confused you, what made perfect sense to you -- that sort of thing is very

 

useful. One of my favorite test-readers has an absolute knack for telling

 

me just how a scene made her feel towards the characters. She doesn't

 

always manage to put her finger on why it makes her feel that way, but she

 

doesn't have to. By the time she's told me exactly what she didn't like

 

about the way the scene made her feel, I can almost always go back, see

 

what I did that produced that reaction, and if it is possible in terms of

 

the mechanics of the story, I can fix it. I love her for a lot of reasons

 

-- but the talent to see and describe rates very high as a fringe benefit.

 

(Thanks, Joan.) So try to see clearly, describe clearly, and take the

 

time to know what your real reaction to something was before you crit.

 

Don't get sloppy, or lie to yourself about what you're seeing and feeling.

 

That way you get the most out of your own efforts -- and give the most

 

help to the writer.

 

 

 

5. Don't try to say or fix everything in a single crit session. First

 

off, you can't. There is no such thing as a story that can't be improved

 

infinitely, over an infinite period of time. It's like the infinite twists

 

and turns of Mandelbrot sets -- twists, growing off of twists, growing offf

 

of twists. Infinite regression. Setting yourself the objective of

 

covering every base, in excruciating detail, is a hopeless goal. You'll

 

fail. Worse, you'll drown the writer you're trying to help. There may be

 

one or two people in her life she's willing to allow infinite nit-pick

 

rights -- but there won't be many more than one or two, and she will choose

 

them herself as long as she's an amateur. (My husband, reading over my

 

shoulder, says I should make the point that I don't allow him infinite

 

nit-pick rights. He's right: I don't. He's a wonderful man, but he has a

 

bad habit of correcting my spelling before I've even had a chance to run

 

the spell checker, and correcting all my idiomatic dialogue to

 

academic/professional 'proper English'-- and he mainly makes faces over the

 

content. So don't feel bad if a writer warns you off of your detailed

 

nit-picks; just remember my husband, smile, and know that that is a very

 

common limit people place -- even on loved ones.)

 

Your mission is to address the elements that most clearly succeeded,

 

or clearly failed. Yes, I know -- I said 'be specific' -- but you can end

 

up submerging the writer in so much detail, and so much bad news, that she

 

won't be able to learn anything, because she's too busy running for then

 

whiskey bottle to console herself for all the bad news you just sent her.

 

Don't go into overdrive. Rome wasn't built in a day, and writers don't

 

learn everything about even one story in a single crit session. If a

 

writer is interested and learning from the process she can and often will

 

follow up by asking for more information about specific areas.

 

 

 

6. Don't try to take over for the writer. I know, again, I said to be

 

clear and specific. But if you take her story away from her, and present

 

her with a set of 'orders,' you've stolen her own learning and her own joy

 

in creation. Try to tell her clearly what failed, try to tell her clearly

 

what succeeded, make a suggestion or two as non-dogmatically as possible --

 

then let her play around with the thing. It's like helping anyone learn --

 

if you take the blocks away from a kid and make the bridge yourself, she

 

never learns how she would have done it. Further, if the writer starts

 

making little "I can do it *myself*, mother" noises, or starts backing away

 

and looking harried then back off, calm down, apologize if you feel you

 

went too far -- and realize that you aren't a monster for the mistake.

 

Once you get excited by the process it's very hard not to want to roll up

 

your sleeves, wade in up to your knees, and get grubby making it all come

 

out right. It's so much fun that we all fall into the trap of parents

 

around the world who have given kids Legos or toy trains -- only to find

 

ourselves on the floor, with the kid grumbling that it was supposed to be

 

*her* toy. Just accept that it is the original writer's piece, and retreat

 

politely.

 

 

 

7. If you want a long term goal to aim for, think in terms of 'Zen

 

CritiqueÆ -- the art of identifying what is missing from a piece. I call

 

this 'Zen' because it's so....so.... I dunno. So involved in mystic

 

abstractness. The "isn't-ness of what is, and the is-ness of what isn't."

 

Very metaphysical. It is comparatively easy to look at what is present in

 

a piece, and comment for and against; but often the greatest problem with a

 

piece has very little to do with what is there, but with what has been left

 

out. Identifying the missing element can be a royal pain in the butt. To

 

get it right you have to be very clear as to what the writer is trying to

 

turn the story into, and you have to have a very clear sense of what is

 

there helping the thing along. Then you have to make a huge intuitive

 

leap, and imagine something added that would pull the existing stuff

 

together in a way that expands, illuminates, enhances and unifies the whole

 

thing. Once you've managed your personal epiphany, you have to find a

 

clear, precise, and informative way of communicating it that still leaves

 

the writer with infinite room to pass it up, and infinite room to make

 

adjustments if she has a few epiphanies of her own.

 

 

 

 

 

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COIN: RECEIVING CRIT.

 

 

 

If learning how to give crit is hard, so is learning how to take it.

 

Miserable -- simply miserable. But it is possible, if you learn how to look

 

at it without flinching and screaming too loudly.

 

The first thing to keep in mind is that when you choose to post a

 

story in public, you open yourself up to public response - ALL public

 

response. That means that you can and sometimes will get back comment from

 

people who truly hate your work, your politics, your philosophy, your

 

perception of the shows, the characters, your taste in style and genre...

 

Heck, you are even running the risk that they will simply hate everyone and

 

anything, and will see your presence as an opportunity to say so -- loudly.

 

While I sympathize with the defensiveness and resentment individuals feel

 

about that, I can only say that if you decide to show your most personal

 

self in public you have to come to terms with the fact that it *is* public,

 

and be accountable for having chosen to take that risk. That doesn't mean

 

that you have to be a doormat, and it doesn't mean you must never fight

 

back. It does mean that those times will be few, and the fights should

 

usually be based on clear issues *other* than your 'rights to

 

consideration.' You've already ceded some of those rights in return for

 

the opportunity to present your material to the same general audience the

 

Top Guns play to. In return you have some obligation to handle the heat

 

with the sort of grace, maturity, and courage you *hope* to see from

 

professionals -- even if you are not yet one, and have no serious

 

intentions of becoming one. You play in the public ballpark, you play by

 

the public rules.

 

 

 

That can be a real problem, but it can be done most of the time -- and

 

an 'attitude adjustment' can be a big help. There are ways of approaching

 

the experience that make it all a bit easier, and that give you something

 

to hang onto when the heat gets intense. If the critic's byword should

 

ideally be "How can I best help," yours should be "How can I learn from

 

this?"

 

 

 

That is an almost unqualified rule. I don't mean "How can I sort the

 

superb, educated, polite and inspired crit from all the crap." I mean that

 

when you get critiqued you try to learn from *all* of it. You see, you

 

will never, ever in your life find a perfect critic -- not as an amateur,

 

not as a professional. Maybe in the blessed afterlife we will all find

 

perfect critics. If we do, the odds are we will hate them with an

 

overwhelming and utterly unheavenly passion. No one likes a know-it-all,

 

and no one likes to be so perfectly, absolutely understood and managed that

 

they are left feeling like they are sweet little Polyannas who are easy to

 

figure out, and easy to manipulate for their own good. So the perfect

 

critic just isn't an option.

 

Now, in a situation like we have at ASC, we have to come to terms with

 

the fact that, if we are learners, so are our critics. As we expect them

 

to make certain allowances for our lack of experience (and often receive

 

that kindness and consideration), we have to make allowances for theirs.

 

There will be newbies, there will be folks who never get the hang of

 

'polite,' there will be folks who, no matter how they try, never say much

 

that is all that immediately useful. There will be fighters who have to

 

have the last word, there will be 'take-over critics' who try to write your

 

story for you -- every sin I've advised against in the above material will

 

*still* be committed. In fact, every sin will be committed on occasion

 

even by the folks who should know better -- like me. Good intentions, lots

 

of experience, a thorough grounding in critical presentation: all of these

 

can help ensure that a particular critic will do a good and fair job,

 

without hurting your feelings. They won't guarantee it. We are all

 

fallible, to err is human -- and so far as I know we have very few

 

non-human 'residents' at ASC, unless you count Greywolf. Don't open

 

yourself up to crit unless and until you are ready to deal with the

 

fallible humanity of critics graciously and generously. Don't ask them to

 

be perfect and ever-wise critics, unless you think you're ready to be a

 

perfect and ever-wise writer -- and keep in mind that if you're so <

 

marvelously perfect and

 

ever-wise, one of the ways in which you will be perfect is in understanding

 

and dealing well with the vagaries of your critics. You're stuck both

 

ways.

 

How do you deal with all that fallibility, well-intentioned and

 

otherwise? Like I said, the first thing is to try to treat every element

 

of the experience as an opportunity to learn. In the very, very worst

 

cases, it will be a chance to learn how to gracefully and firmly shut down

 

a conversation that is turning into a war. In somewhat less god-awful

 

situations it will be a chance to learn how to negotiate a common ground,

 

language, and rule set with your critic that will allow you to converse

 

civilly and to work towards the common goal of improving your writing, and

 

perfecting a specific story. But most of the time it is an opportunity to

 

listen, and learn just what remarkable and observant readers your critics

 

really are, and to learn how to make the most of those vivid, sharp,

 

perceptive observations.

 

First things first: you have to realize that the response you get will

 

almost never come in the form your subconscious assumptions would lead you

 

to expect. It's not just a matter of the readers seeing things you missed

 

-- it's a matter of their conveying what they saw in forms you may not ever

 

have expected to deal with.

 

Most of us have gotten our most extensive critiquing experience in

 

classroom situations, from teachers. Teachers are absolutely predictable

 

-- through no fault of their own. They have to be very terse, because they

 

don't have very much time to grade your work. They have to dwell on

 

technique rather than content or their own emotional response, because

 

technique is what they are supposed to be teaching you, content is supposed

 

to be one of the few areas in which you have infinite choice (barring

 

porn), and emotional response constitutes 'bias.' So a teacher will almost

 

always give you back a very spare, technical, hard-nosed evaluation of your

 

work that will stick to the mechanics and smoothly avoid all real feedback

 

as to how the piece worked in terms of generating a reaction. Teachers

 

will also make very clear and pointed comments on precisely how to improve

 

the piece. That's how they were taught to grade, they really want you to

 

learn very specific things, and they'd just as soon you satisfied the

 

requirements of the course rather than flunking because you were so busy

 

messing around with writing that you never got around to doing it the way

 

the text book says.

 

A critic, unless she comes from a strong academic and professorial

 

background, or unless she is consciously or unconsciously imitating

 

school-style crit, is a very different beast. That is a very good

 

thing...the areas teachers don't cover are the ones the non-academic critic

 

is likeliest to address. A teacher takes you on a swift tour of the 'back

 

of the tapestry'. A serious and loving reader can show you the 'front of

 

the tapestry.' She won't always be able to tell you what threads you

 

pulled, or miswove, or failed to include, that generated the effects she

 

saw --but she can almost always tell you the one thing you really need to

 

know. You see, much of the 'backside of the tapestry' stuff is stuff you

 

have to learn on your own. You can learn it from classes, you can learn it

 

from books, you can learn it from friends and writing groups, you can learn

 

it by analyzing the work of other writers, you can learn it from pure

 

deductive reasoning. The only way you can learn how well you are using

 

those mechanical skills and what reactions you are generating from your

 

readers is to get a view of the 'front side of the tapestry' through the

 

eyes

 

of readers.

 

If you do get academic, 'back of the tapestry' feedback, and

 

mechanical, technical pointers, that's great too. In the long run you need

 

to have an understanding of both sides of the thing if you want to achieve

 

full control over your work. Just don't limit yourself; learn to pay

 

attention to both sorts of critic. Both have things to tell you and show

 

you, both are trying to help, and both can point you in directions that

 

will help you learn and grow.

 

That means that almost any reaction you receive can tell you

 

something. Yes, sometimes you will run into readers who are young enough,

 

or inexperienced enough, in any form of literature but that specific,

 

narrow type they usually prefer that they will assume everything 'ought' to

 

read

 

just like their favorite writer -- and who will drive you nutty by telling

 

you nothing except that you aren't much like so-and-so. Most of your

 

readers will be more interesting than that, though...and even the 'One

 

Style Readers' are interesting, once you sense where the problem lies. If

 

you know you are dealing with a tunnel-vision reader, who sees everything

 

in terms of her own taste range and can't go beyond that, it can still be

 

worthwhile to try to understand what it is about that little area of style

 

and genre that fascinates her. If you learn what it is that wins her over

 

to that, you can often find ways to adapt the key ingredient to mesh with

 

your own style and taste. If you KNOW you don't want to try to capitalize

 

on that kind of element, you at least have learned to think very clearly

 

and concretely about another element of style and literature. Learning to

 

think about writing and reading is one of the best favors you can do

 

yourself. A topic may have no immediate application, but the skill you

 

develop thinking about all those non-goal oriented, off-topic aspects of

 

writing are the same skills you want to develop when clearly and

 

specifically applied to your own work.

 

 

 

The trick is to go into every crit session with your brain set to

 

'learn,' your manners set to 'calm and gracious,' and your tolerance set to

 

'infinite.' No, not quite infinite. You don't have to put up with

 

malicious, or utterly brain-dead scorpions -- but even when you look at a

 

post

 

and determine that you are dealing with an absolute subhuman ass, it's a

 

good idea to simply post an "I don't think we are on the same wave length,

 

let's call this off, OK?" message. This is not because the holy terrors

 

deserve it in particular -- an argumentative, insensitive, stupid twit with

 

virtual BO and an attitude from hell isn't entirely deserving of good

 

manners from you, even if her intentions are good. If you behave well,

 

however, you come away with the smug, if not humble, knowledge that at

 

least *you* were well-behaved. Better, if you behave well, you don't scare

 

away the 'good' critics. You see, the sight of you screaming, frothing at

 

the mouth, red and bloody, flame-eyed, wind-blown, waving the kitchen

 

cleaver around, and howling arcane insults is one of those tiny little

 

things that send the average sensitive, cultured, and mild-mannered critic

 

into panicked retreat -- even if she thinks the rat you're chasing around

 

really deserved it. After all, many of the kinder and more perceptive

 

folks are already very frightened of offending you -- and they are likely

 

to look at the carnage, nod quietly, and decide that maybe this *isn't* the

 

best time to tell you that your story was wonderful, but that you have to

 

rethink the chronological shifts.

 

The final reason for trying to stay polite, even when you think the

 

person addressing you is the very devil, is that no matter how hard we try

 

none of us ever manage to keep track of everything that comes our way.

 

That is particularly true during a crit, when the subconscious is screaming

 

"Defense," and the super-ego feels like it's been bonded to green

 

Kryptonite. Most of the time when you think someone is a jerk you'll have

 

a fair chance of being right, but then there's that rare occasion -- the

 

occasion you shudder to look back on for years and years after it

 

happened--

 

 

 

You read a post -- you read it again. It's garbage. The poster was a

 

fool, and a monster, and nasty, and obviously out to get you. You wait an

 

hour or two. You read it again. Still as abrasive as steel wool -- and

 

nowhere near as useful. You decide: you're gonna let the broad have it

 

right in the chops. You limber up your fingers, pull out the keyboard,

 

type like blazes, push the send button, and take yourself out for a

 

congratulatory cup of hot chocolate -- you really showed *her*!!!

 

 

 

Two weeks later you're clearing out all the old posts, you stop and

 

look that offensive one over, planning on another round of self

 

-congratulation, and---

 

Ohmigod! Did the electrons re-arrange themselves while you weren't

 

looking? Has God gotten revisionist, and decided to re-write history? For

 

some unexplained reason the post suddenly makes perfect, clear sense. OK,

 

it's a little cold, a bit distant, but that suddenly looks like someone who

 

is just a bit formal in her approach. And the message she was trying to

 

send you: YIKES!!! It's really very perceptive -- a twist to the thing you

 

never saw before, by jingo!!!! You would never have seen this in a million

 

years on your own, but if you follow through on the idea you can pull your

 

whole story together into something that's absolutely turbo-charged. The

 

woman is a genius, a wonder, a marvel...

 

She's the person you ripped to shreds in public for trying to help

 

you.

 

Granted, that doesn't happen often. But once is enough, when you add

 

it in to all the other good reasons not to go to war. By all means stand

 

up for yourself -- but don't go on a holy jihad. Do what you must to save

 

a little face, if there's a chance that your opponent has left a damaging

 

enough impression of your character and beliefs that you'll have to deal

 

with the repercussions for a long time to come. That usually isn't the

 

case, but on occasion you may feel you need to say that you are not a

 

Commie-pinko-fagot-racist-fascist-hamster-loving-bomb-slinging-enemy-

 

of-the-free-world. If you feel you have to make a comment, then do what

 

you must fast, clean, without losing it -- and get the heck out. Close it,

 

end it, and don't look back for a few parting shots. And keep in mind: a

 

quiet "no comment" is usually superior to a return volley. Honest.

 

Really.

 

 

 

 

Now, as for 'rulesÆ -- there aren't as many formal rules for being the

 

critiqued as there are for being the critic. That's because your role is

 

superficially passive-- what you should be doing is paying close attention,

 

sometimes asking for more details, occasionally asking for clarification,

 

making polite "I'm listening" noises, and taking notes. Once in a while

 

you get to explain what you did -- sometimes even the best reader misses

 

something that really was there, and really was well done, and will

 

appreciate a correction about a point they've missed. Once in a while you

 

get to say what you were trying to do, to make it easier for the critics to

 

address the problem: if they don't know what you were attempting they have

 

a hard time giving you useful feedback about it. But mostly you listen,

 

and think, and try not to scream, cry, or get in fights. However, there

 

are a few rules that help make it all easier.

 

 

 

1. If you don't want to be critiqued, say so. It doesn't take much, and

 

there's no loss of face in doing so -- not everyone wants that experience.

 

As there are a lot of perfectly civilized and well-intentioned folks who

 

come from backgrounds where putting something out in public is taken as

 

unstated permission to crit at will, it's smart to assume that a "don't

 

send back critical comments" statement is a good move. It won't guarantee

 

freedom from crit, but it will slow it down some.

 

 

 

2. If you do want to be critiqued, say so -- and set terms you can live

 

with. No, not a seven page legal document...but if you are quite sure you

 

need a gentle response, say so; if you want folks to address certain

 

elements you are working on, say so; and if you specifically want to avoid

 

dealing with a particular area, say that too. You see, if the Net contains

 

many folks who see a public posting as an invitation to comment and crit,

 

it also contains many polite and civilized beings who wouldn't dream of

 

doing so without a direct request -- and you will never hear from them if

 

you fail to ask, or hear about the specific things you're trying to hear

 

about if you don't communicate your desires and interests. Which leads me

 

to a simple, obvious, but often forgotten principal of communication -- the

 

people you deal with can't read your mind or your heart. You have to take

 

the initial risk of stating your needs, desires, and goals clearly, or you

 

have no real right objecting when no one comes even close to addressing

 

those needs. Don't assume your critics are telepaths or empaths. They

 

aren't.

 

 

 

3. Do not be surprised if there is no crit. You're essentially standing

 

on a corner with a sign and a pile of hard copy. Some slow weeks there

 

will be lots of folks who have the time and interest to stop and chat.

 

Other weeks there will be absolutely no-one, or there will be people who

 

scoop up copies of your story, jump on buses, or commuter trains -- and

 

never get back to you. Even when there are droves, in many instances they

 

will have little interest in doing more than passing on a couple of

 

comments, and going on their way. The main thing to remember is that if

 

you really need feedback, you have to build your own support network to

 

provide it -- the Net may give you feedback, or it may not. But a

 

dedicated, knowledgeable bevy of writing buddies will more often be

 

reliable. Teachers, writer's circles, friends, workshops, fanzine editors,

 

those are the sort of folks you can more or less rely on to fill in your

 

personal need for feedback -- and even they have been known to fail. Time

 

is tight for everyone, patience is hard come by, insight is a variable

 

thing, and a writer is often too busy writing to also be a critic. In the

 

long run we are all on our own, with a keyboard and a lot of headwork. So

 

don't blow your cool when the Net is not a reliable source of response --

 

it happens, and that's really all there is to it.

 

 

 

4. When you get feedback, take the time to read it carefully -- and if

 

you feel yourself becoming defensive, take the time to go have a cup of

 

coffee, smoke a cigarette, make dinner, take a walk -- whatever works for

 

you to reduce stress. Then, when you are calm again, try reading it over.

 

In many cases you will find that a crit, while not what you hoped to hear,

 

or not in a form you hoped to hear it in, is still useful, still well

 

intended, and still deserving of your polite acknowledgment. And remember,

 

even if it isn't worthy in even the remotest sense, a polite "Thank you for

 

responding, I appreciate your interest, but don't think I can use that" is

 

probably the best reaction, and the one least likely to scare off other

 

critics.

 

 

 

5. When you do get crit, try not to get involved in defense,

 

rationalization, extensive explanation, or other forms of gibbering. The

 

idea is to listen and learn, and unless you seriously think that

 

clarification of your intent, or pointing out what you did three paragraphs

 

back that made things work in ways the reader isn't seeing, will help the

 

critic make more accurate comments, then just hang on tight and listen.

 

The only real exception is that, in private email crit, there's a bit more

 

room for chatter and chitter. Private email is closer to sitting and

 

talking over a cup of hot coffee in the privacy of your own home, and you

 

ought to be allowed a bit more latitude to moan, explain, argue, and

 

otherwise perform the verbal rituals we all enact to soften the blows of

 

crit. Even there, try to restrain yourself. If it helps, know that

 

'limiting rationalization and argument' is the area where I would most

 

often give myself a failing grade. In fact, if there is some 'flunked out

 

entirely' category lower than 'F-minus,' I deserve it. I know how easy it

 

is to fall into that habit -- and I know how damaging it is, too. You are

 

too busy justifying to listen when you go off on that round. Worse, your

 

kind and helpful critics will eventually just stop trying: why should they

 

have to put up with every comment they made being followed by seven pages

 

of self-justification from you in a format that proves you were more

 

interested in proving you were right than in hearing how you were wrong?

 

Patience and

 

tolerance for writerly weakness and vulnerability is one thing -- but there

 

are limits, and it is all too easy to reach them, surpass them, and end up

 

out in limbo -- with your critics staying behind, shaking their heads as

 

you go into orbit.

 

 

 

6. An extension of the above rule: don't try to argue over a reader who

 

has seen your story differently than you intended. This is another area in

 

which I fail regularly. Yes, it can be legitimate to point out that you

 

were trying to do something other than what they saw, and yes, it can be

 

valid to point out that you did something that completely justified some

 

element in your story -- sometimes readers really appreciate being

 

corrected when they missed a crucial point that did exist. But, if they

 

missed the point, then AT LEAST FOR THOSE READERS the point wasn't made

 

clearly or strongly enough. In the long run, you are trying to understand

 

when you are getting your point across to the majority of your readers --

 

and when you aren't. No matter what you did to make things easy for them,

 

if the effort failed, it failed. End of discussion. No, you won't be able

 

to win with everyone, every time; but if you're failing often, or if a

 

serious look at the thing shows that, for all your work, you could have

 

done the thing better, then that's really the end of the matter. In the

 

long run results matter more than effort or intentions, and infinite

 

justification and debate is a waste of your time and your critics'. Try to

 

take the attitude that if someone missed the point, it may have been your

 

fault. If, after careful consideration, you decide it really, really,

 

really wasn't, remember that even gentle, intelligent, caring readers

 

differ, they have bad days, and they come from a lot of backgrounds other

 

than yours -- and they weren't necessarily wrong or stupid not to see what

 

you were doing, or to take it in ways other than those you intended.

 

 

 

7. If you've taken all you can, and are burning out or getting angry, say

 

so, apologize, and call quits early. It will save you a lot of fights, and

 

it will make the crit process easier on you, your critics, and the

 

community as a whole. There is no reason to feel you have to play Kid

 

Macho about crit. Your limits are your limits, and you are much better off

 

admitting them than trying to stick it out, and in the end losing your

 

temper, your nerve, or your optimism.

 

 

 

8. No matter how hard it is, try to treat your critics as the friends and

 

helpers they want to be, not the aggressive and negative assholes your ego

 

wants you to see them as. It is very hard to remember that even firm,

 

tough critics are helpers when they give you news of your fallibility and

 

erring humanity; but it is important to fight the beast and refuse to give

 

in to your own defensiveness. Be polite, listen closely, let them know

 

when you can't go any further, and thank them when the crit is done. My

 

friend the local Michele, who reads for me, and who I read for,

 

says I should type this all in caps, or stick lots of stars and asterisks

 

around it, or come up with some other visual wing-ding to make it stick in

 

your memory. I'll pass, and instead comment that you must remember it.

 

Period.

 

 

 

 

 

"TOUGH CRIT"

 

 

 

This is a specialized subset of crit: the 'haute ecole' version of the

 

thing. The underlying principals are not far removed from those of general

 

crit -- the idea is still to help the writer, and to perfect the piece of

 

writing. It's far more intensive, though, and far more likely to focus on

 

the weak points and the technical details; and it really can be 'tough.'

 

To a novice or an outsider it can look lethal, petty, overly harsh,

 

violent, destructive, and outright brutal. Looks are deceiving. In most

 

cases the participants are in control, know pretty well when they are going

 

over the edge, are gauging the power of their responses to a fine degree of

 

accuracy, and are not endangering each other.

 

I haven't seen much tough crit occur on ASC -- a few low-level rounds,

 

but that's all, and most were cut short by bystanders who failed to

 

understand that the participants were willing, and that the process was

 

perceived as positive and necessary by both the writer and her critics. I

 

HAVE run into more than one comment, both privately and on the newsgroup,

 

that more would be welcomed by some people. That being the case, I'd like

 

to say a few words about how to deal with it as a community. Not the rules

 

of how it is done...to some extent that is negotiated by the participants.

 

But if it is to occur, there should be some understanding of how to

 

respond to the activity.

 

My advice is that if you see a round of tough crit going on, don't get

 

involved without first asking -- folks are concentrating very hard, have

 

granted each other a remarkably high level of trust, and you can wreck

 

their focus, shake the rhythm, disrupt a pattern of logical development, or

 

otherwise mess up the thing and get yourself yelled at if you 'enter the

 

ring' without permission.

 

If you are in doubt as to whether all the participants are willing,

 

ask, either by email or a public post, before flying to the defense of

 

someone who appears to be under siege. She may honestly be enjoying

 

herself -- even if she's losing. For those who love the energy and

 

exploration of the critical process, it isn't whether they win or lose,

 

it's how much they learned and thought along the way.

 

 

 

If you do want to play along, and you are allowed in, remember that

 

the goal is *still* to help the writer, keep to the subject, and try to

 

ease your way in slowly if you've never done 'tough crit' before. This is

 

no more a place to grandstand and show off than the milder, less formal and

 

intense types of crit are.

 

If you *want* tough crit on a story you've posted ask for it very

 

specifically... or, better, send an email to a writer or reader you trust,

 

and invite them to do public crit of your work. And remember, when it gets

 

too heavy for you, slap the mat and pull out. Just as with most martial

 

arts (except professional boxing, which seems to demand bloodshed), blood

 

in the ring means someone failed -- and if you are the one who failed by

 

not letting your critic know when you reached your limit, that is *your*

 

failing.

 

If you know you don't want to play 'tough crit,' either as a writer or

 

a critic, then don't. No loss of face not to want to play that game. Sit

 

on the sidelines and cheer on the participants, learn from the kinds of

 

analysis that go by, or just pass over the thread, if you have a distaste

 

for intellectual judo.

 

 

 

There's only one last thing I can think of to put in, and that's a

 

comment on the "mobbing" phenomena -- a close relative of, or the precursor

 

to flamewars. That's the tendency of everyone and her sisters and brothers

 

to come piling in the minute a dialogue starts to get heated, or even a bit

 

confused. Try to avoid it: fifteen people posting desperate explanations

 

of what someone else was *really* saying, or defending underdogs, or

 

scolding this participant or that, usually just makes the original posters

 

feel defensive, and frustrated. If you think you have something very

 

concrete and helpful to add, think again -- and then, before you push

 

'send,' think one more time. You may be right -- but you often won't be.

 

 

 

That's about it, folks. There isn't much more to say that doesn't

 

take us into levels of nit-pick and legalistic mumbo-jumbo above and beyond

 

the useful. If you remember to be polite, remember that both the writers

 

and the critics are human, fallible, need thanks and consideration, and

 

want to be treated caringly, you've already come most of the way. The

 

philosophy of "I'm here to help" and "I'm here to learn" will take care of

 

most of the rest of it, and serious thought and commitment on both sides

 

will ensure that the process is useful and, well...maybe not always

 

enjoyable. It's too intense and too revealing to always be enjoyable. But

 

it will at least be as endurable as the bumps and bruises that come

 

naturally in a martial arts session -- no broken bones, no blood, and no

 

bad feelings if everyone was careful, respectful, and didn't get too

 

carried away in the heat of the moment.

 

 

 

Other than that, go with the divinity of your choice, crit and be

 

critiqued in peace and joy, and live long and prosper.

 

 

 

Peg

 

 

 

 

 

(Who suspects that "Miss Manners" can relax and not worry about her job

 

being threatened -- at least not by me.)