We’ve been discussing the pros and cons of writing groups, so what better time to share a story about the best, and the worst, they have to offer? Thus without further ado, I’d like to introduce writer Christi Craig, who knows a thing or two about the subject. Including how to find useful nuggets in experiences that might otherwise make you wonder why you wanted to write in the first place, and whether it’s really too late to get that degree in accounting after all.
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I’m not new to writing groups, nor am I a seasoned participant – not yet. But, I’ve sat around the tables enough times to encounter the quintessential worst and best feedback moments. And, while “worst” and “best” imply “different,” what I heard during both experiences was almost exactly the same.
The Worst (Or “Pass the Prozac”)
It was the second time I met with this particular group of writers and my first time in the hot seat of critique. My work-in-progress told the story of a quirky young woman – with an overbearing mother – on a path of self-discovery. I set the first twenty pages of my manuscript in front of me and opened a notebook to a clean sheet of paper. With pen poised and a coffee cup half-full (and still hot), I grinned from ear to ear, enthusiastic. Even giddy. I’d been itching to move forward with this manuscript and couldn’t wait to share the work with others and gather some guidance.
“Nice opening,” one person said. I nodded in silent thanks.
“I want to know where she got all that money from,” said another. I scribbled notes.
A different writer spoke up. “Your protagonist hides behind trees and peers into windows.”
I nodded.
“And her relationship with her mother…what’s wrong with her?” She asked. “She seems to have serious psychological problems.” The others agreed and a discussion ensued about possible reasons why my protagonist was so depressed and paralyzed by fear. My jaw dropped. They’d read only a small piece of the story, and the tone was already lost — it was supposed to be funny, at least a little. The longer the critique wore on (a grueling hour and fifteen minutes), the more I worried that years of therapy and rewrites could not save my main character – or my story. I left that critique deflated.
The Best (Or “The Transcendental Moment”)
One year and a different work-in-progress later, I bounded the steps of an old convent to meet with a new group of writers. We were three weeks into our sessions together, and already I had learned much. This time I shared a story about a woman who struggles to regain her footing in life, after losing her mother in a tragic accident. The critique started out on a high note: what worked, what could be expanded, questions I might consider. Then, a woman, who fit my vision of the target audience for this novel, spoke on the main character. “She’s starting to bug me. She’s been dragging on for three chapters now. Give her some anti-depressants already.”
Those three words, “serious psychological problems” came back to haunt me. My heart sank. This protagonist had good reason to be depressed, but she stalled the story anyway. Then, I had a spiritual awakening: a hero isn’t a hero unless she takes action. With that, an ugly and recurring theme stuck out in my writing — passive protagonists. In two separate novels, I’d created characters who sat around and waited for something to push them forward. While some characters do loiter in real life, nobody likes to read about that for too long. They’ll close the book. They’ll pick up another one with more action. Suddenly, my worst critique became my best critique.
I attribute my change in perspective to two things: a level of trust and a better sense of myself as a writer. In the first group, I barely had time to memorize names of the people around me before we dove into a serious critique of my work. Also, I was new to writing; I took their feedback personally. I couldn’t see past their words to the crux of the problem. With the second group, though, I had spent a few weeks at the table, experienced a successful critique of a short story, and seen how they offered encouraging, as well as suggestive, comments. And, I was a different writer. I understood more about how to evaluate and incorporate feedback. I was more confident and more willing to listen.
I don’t advocate for soft critiques to save a writer’s pride. But, I will suggest spending time with peers in a writing group – getting to know them, their style, and their history – before diving into a major critique. And yes, sometimes a “worst” is just that – bad feedback. But other times, even good feedback sounds harsh. Either way, the experience is more telling when studied from a distance.
What about you? Have you ever found gold in what would otherwise be a “pass the Prozac” writers group moment?
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You can find more spot-on writing advice from Christi on her fabluous blog, Writing Under Pressure. You can also follow her on Twitter, and on her Facebook page.









Christi,
I love this way of looking at the situation. I haven’t been in an official critique group for ages. When I have, my writing has been seriously misunderstood. Or has it? Was I really saying what I’d intended? Maybe not. Thanks for the reminder!
Victoria,
I’m always amazed at how much my perspective changes after I, and those comments, have “aged” for a while.
Christi, this is such an insightful view of feedback, one that shifts subtly and effectively from a focus on what’s “out there” and a passive writerly role to a focus on the power of our inner experience and being active agents for our own growth. I know that I’ll definitely remember what you’ve wrote here the next time I get feedback on my work.
I’m also thrilled to have found Wired for Story!
Lisa,
An agent for our own growth…well said! That’s another quality that I believe makes for a successful writer and a successful critique experience!
I agree wholeheartedly with you two reasons for a changed perspective: level of trust and a good sense of who you are as a writer. I’ve been in three groups, and only one of them provided for these key elements. The group has to have some diversity I think of styles and abilities, but there needs to be enough intelligence around the table that you are able to respect the critiques as considered and reasonable even if they are contrary to your own opinion. Then too you need to be confident enough in your own sensibilities as a writer to reject criticism that is off the mark even when it comes from people you know and trust.
Jonah,
Yep, diversity is crucial as well, since readers come to a novel with a wide-range of perspectives themselves. And, I like your point about trusting the intelligence of those around the table. The group I’m in right now has a collective amount of experience and wisdom that’s invaluable to me.
We hand out five copies of the pages being read aloud, so lots of comments get written down. What sounded like a “pass the Prozac” moment during the face-to-face meeting sometimes ends up golden when I read the comments a couple of days later.
There’s one woman — I don’t know her name — I secretly call her Sister Mary Comma. She circles almost every comma with a red pen.
George,
I love that you call one of your critique partners Sister Mary Comma. I’ve been giggling about that for days
I definitely have had golden moments after I sit back and think about a reader’s comments for awhile. My initial reactions are largely based on emotion. My secondary response is to “think and act.” Great insights, Christi!
Amanda,
Yes, I’ve definitely learned to recognize when my emotions are getting in the way of my actual “listening.” I hate when that happens, but I guess that’s part of writing — we’re passionate about our work.
Hi Christi,
Thanks for sharing your experience. I am new to writing and an almost regular reader of your blog which inspires me to write. Liked reading this – “a hero isn’t a hero unless she takes action”.
Have a good weekend!
Pooja,
Good to see you here on Lisa’s blog! I hope you take a minute to browse through her other pages and past posts; she offers tons of wonderful resources for writers.
As always, thanks for reading. And, happy writing to you!
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