Last night and this morning I spent a lot of time sifting through queries for Pitch Wars hopefuls. At some point I read a query that just didn't gel for me. It had elements I'd asked for in my wishlist, and the writing wasn't bad. But it didn't engage my imagination or heart, and I couldn't really tell you why. I simply didn't feel the story. So, I sorted that query into the "Not for Me" pile.
Then it hit me.
I sat back, blinked and realized I'd just said no to an author who'd done nothing wrong.
Now, I didn't make that decision blithely. When I'm evaluating dozens of pieces of work, I become aware of a spark--this intangible thing that makes me sit up and take notice. And feel excited. Or, conversely, when a query or first chapter lacks that spark. It becomes fairly easy to identify what's going to bake my cookies.
But I do, absolutely, 100%, empathize with the authors on the other side of this process. I've been there. I've got countless rejection emails in my files. And rejections from my own agent, and publishers, and bad reviews . . . I get it. It's hard and it hurts. You want everyone to love your baby.
The bottom line is, though, that as a mentor I can't take everyone. I can't read every manuscript to dig for hidden gems. I have to trust my gut about what's going to feed my energy (mental and physical) as we walk through this process.
But here's the good news: I literally haven't read a single query so far that's bad. The quality of these submissions surprises and excites me. Because I know, even if I'm not the right mentor for these projects, someone else might be. And even if no mentor chooses them, there will be agents out there that are engaged. I guess what I'm trying to say is: If you submitted to me, thank you. I'm genuinely humbled that you trust me with your work. If I reject it, I don't do so lightly. And I don't take any pleasure in removing you from this particular game. Please, don't let yourself decide that if I (or other mentors) don't pick you, your book is finished, or you're a failure. It purely, simply, isn't true.
When I read a query, or query blurb of a story, I'm looking for five major elements communicated crisply, quickly, and clearly:
Who is the book about, where are they (and when, if applicable)? What does the protagonist want? What's the conflict, and who or what is the antagonistic force? What's at stake--and for your final hook, what specific obstacle will potentially stop the protagonist from achieving their goal?
If a query can outline that in under 250 words, it's a winner. So let's take a look at this first query and see how it stacks up:
QUERY CONTENT:
A
millennium ago, the Pantheon used to consist of five states, before one of
them, the Meridian Island, sank underground mysteriously overnight. Everyone
blames its last ruler, the nefarious Prime Princess – after all, she did commit
parricide. Little do they know, the princess was avenging her husband’s brutal
murder. Everyone suspects she was associated with the Void (an entity who seeks
the five elements to destroy humanity). Little do they know how much she
sacrificed to protect humanity from the Void. With her kingdom, her true
story's lost, and her fate unknown.
A
millennium later, history is about to be repeated with Quince Shakran, a day
laborer, who is blamed for his brother’s impending death. Only the High Priest
of the Autumn Plateau can heal his brother, but the priest only obeys the
Plateau’s king. To win the king’s favor, Quince accepts the scholarship to the
Plateau he was offered instead of his brother. However, his relationship with
an enigmatic royal prisoner jeopardizes his goals, and thrusts him into the
hibernated battle against the Void the Prime Princess had incited a millennium
ago. With the existence of humanity at stake, Quince must join the battle
alongside the royal prisoner over the guardianship of the elements.
Inspired
by Bronze Age civilizations, [TITLE] is a YA fantasy complete at 120,000 words.
Written in dual POVs from Quince and the Prime Princess, it'll appeal to fans
of AN EMBER IN THE ASHES and AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER."
CRITIQUE (my notes in red font)
Please note, there’s
a lot of critical analysis of this query, however the criticism is of the
structure of the wording, not the story itself. I believe the right elements
are here for a strong fantasy book. However, this query doesn’t answer the
right questions or give information clearly, so it won’t do the story justice
in a query:
A
millennium ago, the Pantheon used to consist of five states, before one of
them, the Meridian Island, sank underground mysteriously overnight. Everyone
blames its last ruler, the nefarious Prime Princess – after all, she did commit
parricide. Little do they know, the princess was avenging her husband’s brutal
murder. Everyone suspects she was associated with the Void (an entity who seeks
the five elements to destroy humanity). Little do they know how much she
sacrificed to protect humanity from the Void. With her kingdom, her true
story's lost, and her fate unknown.
A
millennium later,
This is all backstory, and isn’t needed for a query, at least, not
up front.
Quince
Shakran, a day laborer (in whichever state of the
Pantheon—just give the name and Pantheon at this point, that cues the reader
this is a fantasy world), who is blamed for his brother’s
impending death.
This is your hook. This is where you start. And you pull the reader
in by, in the next couple sentences, telling them who blames Quince, and what he’s
is accused of doing to cause his brother’s “impending” death (because that’s makes
the entire situation a little less fraught—after all, the brother might not die?)
Only the
High Priest of the Autumn Plateau, who answers to the
Plateau’s King, can heal his brother, but the priest only obeys the
Plateau’s king. To win the king’s favor, [and earn
the right to ask for his brother’s healing—or something along those lines] Quince
accepts the scholarship to the Plateau he was offered instead of his brother.
This last part is confusing and needs to be rephrased as a challenge
in some way. If he’s being blamed for his brother’s impending death, why would
they give him a scholarship, which is a positive thing? It would hook the
reader more to hear that Quince will be forced to fill the gap left by his
brother, but it puts him at risk in some way. So his goal is to save his
brother, but the conflict is . . . what? We still don’t actually know. We need
to know what’s at stake, and what the obstacle is (clearly)
However,
his relationship with an enigmatic royal prisoner jeopardizes his goals,
How did he become friends with a prisoner if he’s in a scholarship
and earning the King’s favor?
Needs to be phrased more along the lines of, “In his role as X, he
is forced into close quarters with the royal prisoner, [NAME THE CHARACTER AND MAKE
IT CLEAR WHETHER THE RELATIONSHIP IS ROMANTIC OR PLUTONIC ]. As their
relationship develops, the [WHATEVER ELEMENT OF THE RELATIONSHIP IS A PROBLEM] will
force Quince to [EXPLAIN WHAT THE CONFLICT IS, AND WHAT’S AT STAKE].
and thrusts
him into the hibernated battle against the Void the Prime Princess had incited
a millennium ago. With the existence of humanity at stake, Quince must join the
battle alongside the royal prisoner over the guardianship of the elements.
This is all great fantasy phrasing, but is confusing in its
structure and doesn’t actually tell the reader what we need to know: What could
happen to Quince (presumably he could die), why should a reader care
(presumably because the entire earth could be harmed in some way) and how Quince will be forced into war. We
have no idea what the guardianship of the elements is/are and why are we
calling a character “the royal prisoner” instead of their name? The prisoner is
what they are, not who they are.
Inspired
by Bronze Age civilizations, [TITLE] is a YA fantasy complete at 120,000 words.
Written in dual POVs from Quince and the Prime Princess, it'll appeal to fans
of AN EMBER IN THE ASHES and AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER."
This is a great summary and would definitely grab an agent’s
interest if the blurb of the story was much clearer.
I know I’ve really torn that query apart. I don’t want the author to
be discouraged. Summarizing and hooking a reader with a blurb is a completely
different skillset to writing a book. Many authors aren’t good at it (I’m one
of them), so we get help from others to make sure our queries have the right
information, in the right order:
Who’s your protagonist and where are they (time and place, though in
a fantasy it’s really just place).
The villain, antagonistic force, or obstacle they’re facing.
What’s the protag’s goal.
What’s at stake (what does the protag have to lose).
And finally, a hint at something dire that’s about to happen that
will make us fear for the protagonist. Not a question, but a statement “If
protag doesn’t do X, in Y time, they face Z...)
I’m sure this critique would be hard to read, and I feel for the
author (my early critiques were similarly muddied). However, I’ll say again,
that I believe all the elements for a very strong fantasy world, and intriguing
book are here. This query just doesn’t give enough clarity and stakes to make
an agent jump on it.
I’m sorry to say, I think you need a complete rewrite. The good news
is, with the right query (and tightly polished material), I think you’ll have
agents jumping to request pages.
Take another stab at it and have it read by people who know nothing
about your book. When they’ve read it, as them what they think it’s about, and
what might happen. It’s the best way to gauge if your query is serving your
story well. If someone who’s never read any of the book can describe the main
characters and conflict, and what’s at stake, then you’ve done your job!
I'm so excited to be working with some authors who want to improve their material in the lead up to Pitch Wars. The first critique will be posted tomorrow!
In the following days and weeks I'll be posting critiques of first 500 words, and queries. Feel free to read the critiques and ask questions in the comments if you want clarity to help you revise your own work.
The call for submissions to be critiqued is now closed, though I may open up again in the summer, in the lead up to Pitch Wars, so keep an eye on the blog, and my twitter.
In the meantime, please come along whenever a critique is posted, cheer on the author's who've braved having their work picked apart in public, and take away what you can to help you with your own projects.
The first critique will be posted tomorrow. See you then! - Aimee
Preparing to mentor someone in #Pitchwars has got me thinking about what I have to offer that isn't already out there enough in the writing ether. Here's where I landed:
The publishing industry is amazing, and also brutal.
If you want to be an author (i.e. someone who shares their books with the world, traditionally, or independently) then you need to understand what you can control, and what you can't. Because this industry will take a lot out of your hands. And it's easy to get confused and start blaming yourself for things you shouldn't--but also to not take responsibility for things you should.
I'm going to do my best to give you a realistic picture of how this industry works. And challenge you to own your actions and see yourself through an objective filter. Because if you're willing to do that, you will win at this game.
Are you ready to hear how? (This is where you strap in)
I'm friends with a lot of writers. Some self-published, some midlist published like me, some extremely successful, and some just starting out--agented, or aspiring to be.
After eight years immersed in this industry, I'm beginning to be able to pick who's going to win at this game, and who won't. Because giving yourself the best chance to be a winner in publishing is in your control, even if the ultimate finish-line isn't. Are you ready? Here goes:
What You Can Control (But Might Not Want To)
(As taught to me by people much more experienced and successful than I)
1. You can understand the craft of fiction.
It might seem daunting, or like a waste of time that could be better spent creating. Here's the truth: It isn't.
This is the largest obstacle I see in aspiring authors. I can't count the number of times I've heard people say they don't have time to read instructional books. Or they don't want their writing to become "formulaic". Or they start to read something, find it inspiring, jump back into their manuscript and don't ever go back to the other nuggets of instruction that are available in the book they started.
And the problems that someone else has already given the answers for, or the weaknesses in their writing that someone else has already identified in a craft book, continue in their writing. And they continue to get rejections. And they become despondent.
Take control. Read books from masters about how to become a better writer. Read blogs from authors about the things they see in new writers. Believe it. They aren't sharing that with you for kicks. They're trying to help. But only you can control if you're willing to invest time in your own work.
2. You can allow your work to be criticized so you can improve on it.
This is the second biggest problem I see in aspiring authors. "I can't let other people read it. It's my baby." or "I couldn't take it if someone didn't like it."
I get it. They're afraid someone will call it ugly, or useless, or mimicry. They're hurt by that thought, so they retreat. But here's the time to pull up your big girl/boy pants:
If you ever plan to share your writing--for free, independently, or via traditional routes--someone else is going to read it and inevitably, someone will tell you what's wrong with it. Whether those flaws are massive, or just nit-picky, subjective stuff, is in your control.
If you put out for free, someone will tell you why they don't like it.
If you publish independently or otherwise, people will give you bad reviews. (No one is free of that particular burden, no matter how successful).
If you try to get an agent and/or a publishing deal, it will be critiqued, edited, and changes requested. Probably demanded.
In short: In publishing, a thick skin is a must. And the only way to develop a thick skin, is to allow the criticism to help you do better next time. Don't wallow in rejection, learn from it. In this industry, criticism and rejection are unavoidable, inevitable truths. So here's what you can control: You can control who gets first pass at identifying problems (because anyone who just says "I love it" isn't helping anything but your ego--none of us are perfect, and none of our books are, either). You can control how much you're willing to revise and work at refining your writing, and your story, to make it better.
Because the better it is, the more likely you are to reach whatever goal you have, be it great comments on your post, high average reviews and sales in self-publishing, or garnering an agent and a contract. Are you willing to take on the initial rejection and criticism, in order to receive less of it later? It's in your control to do so.
3. You can treat writing like a profession, even if you aren't earning through it yet.
Here's what's going to happen if you publish, independently or traditionally: People will have expectations, and you'll be working hard to meet them. And sometimes that will mean working when you don't feel inspired. Or working on a story that's started to die for you because you've read it so many times.
An amateur gives up, procrastinates, denies (or worse, deceives) those who are demanding more, and makes excuses for why it's not their fault.
A professional works to deadlines (even if they're ones they've set themselves), takes input and turns it into momentum to improve, and is reliable. When they say something's going to arrive, it arrives. When they say they're delivering a sequel, or a proposal for the next book, or the edits on the current one, they do. It's that simple.
Are you making commitments and keeping them, even when it's hard? That's in your control. And if the day comes that you are successful in reaching a goal, the ability to work under pressure, or when the muse is absent, will serve you very, very well.
4. You can be willing to sacrifice to reach your goals.
Another refrain from aspiring authors: "I just don't have time."
In some lives, this is genuinely true. They're working full time, helping kids with homework, and dealing with family matters. If that's the case, forgive yourself, work when you can, and know that this is a season. The day will come when you have structured time to write, and you're so good at being reliable, that's when you'll see the rewards for it.
But many, many others don't.
"I don't have time!" yet they're binge-watching their favorite shows on Netflix.
"I don't have time!" yet they're posting visual diaries on Twitter, and talking for two hours with a friend over coffee about the book they're "writing". Sort of.
"I don't have time!" yet they're in a head-to-head battle with some guy in Norway over top slot on their favorite Playstation game.
Here's the thing: You can choose what you prioritize. If you want to prioritize other things, that's fine. But don't tell yourself (or me) that you don't have time. You do. It's what you're choosing to do with the time that's the problem.
Writers write. Are you? If not, you aren't a writer. But you can be. If you choose it.
5. You can be disciplined and structured about your efforts.
Here's words you'll hear a lot if you get involved in writing communities online:
"I'm a committed pantser."
"I can't outline, it kills the journey of discovery."
"I don't know how to fix this plot problem."
"If I plan a scene ahead, I get bored."
Something that's true: Everyone has a different process that works for them.
Something else that's true: Professional, successful writers have to plan ahead and know where they're going. They have to know what they're releasing before it's in the world. They have responsibilities to their agents/publishers to propose a book (which includes a full plot summary). They have to be able to commit to deadlines (which means understanding how long it will take them to write something, and pushing themselves to reach that goal even when it's hard).
Get serious. If you want to do this for a living, have an agent, get submitted to publishers, you have to be willing to plan.
Here's the cool part: When you start planning, organizing, and structuring your writing time, ultimately you'll write faster, better material, earlier in the process. And with each subsequent book, the material you produce becomes a better product. So you have more success, and get to choose even more things to plan for.
If you aren't willing to analyze, plan, or commit, your writing will get stuck and your career will stall. Your readers will get bored, or not show up at all.
6. You can function as a professional (even before you get paid).
No one says better how the jump to professionalism is achieved, than the master, Neil Gaiman (if you don't have time to listen to all of it, go to 14:10)
Which two are you? Own those. Tell people about them. Be those things. And watch yourself begin to succeed.
7. You can keep going, even when it gets hard.
Okay, serious talk: Some of us are dealing with mental or physical health issues, painful seasons in life, and other obstacles we can't control that will affect our ability to push on. That's okay. That's life. And writing is only good for your life when everything else is working. So take the time you need to be healthy, fit, and ready.
But once you're there, once you're in a place where you know what you want, and you're equipped to pursue it, know this: There are going to be really, really hard days (sometimes even weeks or months). Days when you're convinced your material is crap. Days when you receive just one more rejection from an agent, or just one more note from a publisher that says "close, but no cigar".
Guess which one will find you success? Hint: This industry will gut you if you don't have the wherewithal to lick your wounds, then keep going. The only part of this process that you can control is the willingness to take yet another shot.
Thomas Edison said it best. It took him around 1,000 tries to invent the light bulb, and after he did, a journalist asked him "How did it feel to fail 1,000 times?" His response? "I didn't fail 1,000 times, the light bulb was an invention with 1,000 steps."
Your book hopefully won't take 1,000 steps. But if it does, are you willing to keep pushing yourself on after the first one-hundred, two-hundred, even nine-hundred paces? Because that's the part of the process that you can control.
Authors are writers who didn't give up. Just because you haven't achieved something right now, doesn't mean you never will. I promise.
So, here's my suggestion in a nutshell: Take control of what you can.
Then, in a few days, come back here and learn to forgive yourself for the things you can't . . .
Your Turn: Any questions? Ways I can help? Talk to me on Twitter at @AimeeLSalter or comment here.
(Scroll halfway down to the heading if want to skip my musings and get to the GALLERY OF REJECTION)
I've been on Twitter a lot lately, and watching some new, aspiring authors come up through the Pitchwars feed, has been eye-opening. I'd forgotten what it was like to be pushing your first baby out into the world. The peculiar mix of awe, hope, and terror.
But the thing it's made me most grateful for, were the years I put into developing a thick skin around rejection. Because after two agents, two traditional contracts, and books out in the world for almost three years now, there's one glaring truth that I learned early:
Rejection is everywhere in this industry. Seriously. EVERYWHERE.
The thing that surprised me over the years was that it didn't stop. Early on I thought once I was established, I could expect relief. But it doesn't matter what stage of the game you're in, rejection is literally unavoidable. And when you've finally been published? That's a unique kind of torture.
I say unique, because once a book is out in the world there's nothing you can do to change it. At every previous step, be it negative feedback on critique, revision letters from your agent, or your precious words being skewered in editing, you've always had a chance to change (or defend) the identified flaws. It's all been behind closed doors, and you've had the freedom to do something.
But reviews? That story has left the building. There's nothing you can do to change it if you think they're right. And if they aren't, their words exist in perpetuity. Not only can you not address (or answer to) the flaw, you have to let other people be influenced by that individual's perspective. *Insert sensation of medieval torture here*
Look, here's a hard truth that you'll do well to accept before you get that far: No book makes everyone happy.
Literally, not a single one.
Now, I'm actually blessed because overall, my reviews are very good. I have almost 300 reviews on Amazon and books average out at 4.5 and 4.3 stars respectively. Trust me, that's a huge relief.
But no matter how your book comes together, it will generate reviews from people who didn't connect, or just plain didn't like it. Luckily for me, in a recent conversation with Author Rebecca Podos, I discovered a brilliant (and hilarious) way to deal with the unique rejection that comes from bad reviews:
Turn them into motivational posters.
That's right. From today forward, anytime a review slices and dices my insides, I'm removing its power to hurt me by owning that sucker.
I've already started with a few from Amazon and Goodreads. If you run into any blogger reviews that are less than complimentary, let me know. Because this is turning out to be more fun than I thought . . .
I was doing some reading today purely for personal expansion, and came across some advice which (I'm paraphrasing) boiled down to:
It's foolish to believe no one else could offer something useful to your life, your work, or your personal character. Foolish. All of us have room to grow. And other people often see our flaws more clearly than we can (not to mention, the solutions).
Funny, isn't it, how even if we agree in theory, the natural reaction is to begin to qualify that statement?
"Of course, everyone has something to learn... but not all advice is good advice."
Or,
"No one knows what is best for me better than me! Others might be able to give advice, but it's up to me to decide what is worth taking action on."
Or,
"I'm not against taking advice... it's just that people so often don't give helpful, thoughtful insight. Instead they just criticize and empower themselves by depowering me..."
While there might be truth to all those statements, have you ever thought about whether or not you're throwing the baby out with the bathwater?
See, here's the thing: Writers can be a writer's best friend. They can also be a writer's worst enemy.
For whatever reason (and I'm not going to speculate), I've seen writers tear each other down with a swiftness and ruthlessness that left me breathless. (Now, go ahead and critique that sentence). So I understand why some writers are hesitant to put themselves or their work out there.
But those cruel, thoughtless or jealous types are the exceptions. Not the rule. Most writers really want to see each other succeed. Most want to help. Most want to see each and every story developed to its fullest potential.
So... are you letting the exceptions rule your success? Do you agree with the above statement in theory, but in practice, refuse to learn from anyone else?
I am one hundred percent in agreement with the above statement - applied to my person, my work, and most especially my writing.
I've seen the benefit of allowing experienced, thoughtful, nice writers critique my work. And make no mistake, it's hard. But the truth is, I grow stronger, better, more skillful every time I allow it to happen. And the writers I've come across who refuse to let others in.... well, they have a tendency to stagnate.
So, if you want to let people in, but you're nervous, here are some ideas to get you started:
1. Start with a book on craft from an author you trust (or who is recommended by an author you trust). Most successful authors have "go to" craft books and they're often listed on their websites. Find a book that meets you where you're at in your journey and actually study it. Apply it. Work through any exercises involved, or work through a chapter of your manuscript with the advice in the book at the forefront. In short: work at it. And see the results for yourself.
2. Pay for a critique. Now, obviously, not everyone can afford to take this option, and it's probably the one most writers are most acutely aware of, so I won't belabor the point. Just give it some thought (and make sure it's, again, from a source you trust, or recommended by a source you trust).
3. Let other writers critique or beta read for you. Now before you rear back in horror, maybe these little tips will help:
First, make sure that whoever you're offering it to has given useful advice to someone you know, so you can at least be hopeful that they'll have something to offer you.
Second, give guidelines. If the book is in an early draft and you know it's wordy, just front up and say "I know the wordcount's too high." Then outline what you need. Do you want them to ignore the wordiness and just focus on the plot? Then tell them that. Do you want them to cross out words / sentences they think could go? Say so. In short, make your expectations clear.
Third, resolve not to dismiss anything until you've read it twice and thought about it for a week. It's absolutely true that you'll never please everyone. And it's also true that not every piece of advice you receive will be right for your story. But sometimes your gut reaction to advice is negative, not because the advice is wrong, but because it's hard to hear. Give it time. Think about it for a few days, then read it again. chew it over. Talk yourself through what would be involved in making the changes. Think about the end result. Bottom line: Would it improve the story or not?
I have no desire to put anyone on the spot today, or imply that I'm surrounded by fools. Far from it. The writers that surround me are my lifeline for making the best of my stories. The best of myself! All I want to do is encourage everyone to take that plunge and learn from it. Know that you aren't a "bad" writer because you need help. You aren't a "hopeless case" if you've got work to do. And you are far from foolish if you let others tell you how to be better.
Your Turn: How do you feel about letting others read your manuscript(s)? Are there any concerns I didn't address in this post?
"A critic is a man who knows the way but can't drive the car." ~ Kenneth Tynan
At first I kind of snorted and went "yeah". Then I got to thinking about it. The tone of the quote is condemning. But should it be?
Are navigators to be derided because they can't use a stick-shift? It is possible that someone can gain an understanding of what makes a story work, without having the skills to build a successful story themselves?
I think I'd have to answer that question with a resounding "Yes."
You see, whether or not I agree with critics and reviewers, there is a skillset they have personally honed: reading. They know what they like. They know what works for them. And the really good ones have identified what works for a big slice of the population. So, yes, I believe it's possible for an analytical mind to become adept at identifying a good story, whether or not they're capable of creating one.
I think the real reason many writers get up in arms about critics and reviewers is because, let's be frank, they criticize. They tell us our babies aren't perfect. They imply (or bluntly state) that we could have done a better job. And they pull our flaws out of the piles of all our carefully constructed words, flapping them in the wind for all to see.
Never a pleasant experience.
So, here's the thing: While I'll never condone a reviewer or professional critic who slams a writer personally (seriously, how does that even come into the equation?), I think we have to give at least passing consideration to genuine critique.
Note the phrasing there "...give at least passing consideration to genuine critique." I'm not suggesting we try to please everyone. That's impossible. And it's unlikely we're all going to perfect techniques for a flawless finish. But a negative review is an opportunity to be honest with ourselves and potentially improve.
After all, even if we consider their feedback and determine that it isn't work the paper (or screen) it was written on, at least we've opened ourselves to the possibility of improvement. And when we do that, it means we'll be more open next time useful feedback comes in.
So, yes, in my world there is definitely room for negative reviews, and definitely time for critics who aren't themselves "successful" writers.
Of course, at this point all my negative reviews have occurred behind closed doors. Maybe I'll feel different if (when?) my literary undergarments are flapping in the breeze?
Your Turn: Is there room in your world for negative reviews? How do you feel about critics who inform the masses, but aren't writers themselves?
*** ARCHIVE FROM 2012 *** Since I'm back on the query trail, I thought it was a good time to revist a topic we covered last year...
Published
authors, agents and editors talk A LOT about how there's a need to develop a
thick skin if you're going to be successful in publishing. But what does that
really mean?
Primarily, in my experience at least, it means two things: Developing the humility
to unpack criticism and the ability to separate rejection from
failure.
I'll talk about rejection in the next post, but for now, I want to address how
to go about...
Unpacking Criticism
When someone reads your work and offers uncomplimentary feedback there are
three ways to react:
1.
Anger or defensiveness;
2.
Retreating out of fear of further hurt;
3. With
thoughtful consideration.
The third option is the only one that will improve your chances of success in
publication.
Now, don't get me wrong. I've felt the anger of a criticism: "What
do you mean that scene was “a little flat”?! Are you kidding me?! I spent DAYS
on those pages! And now I need more exclamation points to fully express the
emphatic nature of these statements!!!"
I've had moments where I'd like to crawl under a rock and pretend I never
wrote a word: I've written fourteen page emails explaining to my critique
partners exactly why that scene / character / plot-point had to
be that way...
But in the end, those reactions don't make me a better writer.
For me, unpacking criticism is a four part process:
Part One:
Rule #1 of Unpacking Criticism - Thou shalt not respond - at
all.
Rule #1-b - If response is absolutely required, it shalt only
acknowledge receipt, gratitude for time taken by critiquer and statement of
intention to consider all points. (i.e. "Thanks for sending that through!
I really appreciate your time. I'll get back to you when I've had a chance to
digest it all.)
After I
read feedback or critique, I let myself react emotionally (where no one else
can see). I feel the feelings, have the justification conversation with myself,
throw a pity-party or shed a tear - whatever is required to vent the emotional
response I've had. Then I wait for myself to calm down (NB: Sometimes this
takes minutes, sometimes hours, sometimes days).
Part
Two:
Rule #2
of Unpacking Criticism - Honesty is the best
policy. Do yourself a favor and admit you don't know everything - even if it's
only to yourself.
Once
the intial shock / emotional crisis has passed, I review who offered the
critique or feedback. Are they further along in the journey than I am? Do they
have a vested interest in seeing me succeed? How familiar are they with my
genre? Are they published? Are they an agent / editor? What is their experience
or knowledge of the craft?
In the vast majority of cases, I am reminded that this person is either a
fellow-writer with a genuine desire to help, or a professional with a much
sharper, more experienced eye than my own. In other words: I renew my respect for the source.
Only very rarely do I finish this part of the process with a caution to myself
that this person might not know an adverb from a gerbil.***
I also take some time to remind myself fresh eyes can catch things a reader
would see that I'm blind to and remember how much better I've felt about my
story in the past after taking on board some of the suggestions for change from
previous critiques.
Part Three:
Rule #3
of Unpacking Criticism - Any work I do now that makes my manuscript
better takes me one step closer to being published.
I sit
down with the critique and re-read it, highlighting any points that immediately
jump out as 'right'. I make notes on how and where I'll action those points,
then sift through the rest.
All other pieces of critique will fall into one of two categories:
The reader doesn't understand! Whenever I feel this way, I'm reminded
it's my writing that failed - because no one can read any book except
the one I wrote. So either I need to give more information, change my approach,
or clarify something to ensure everyone 'gets it'.
I don't want to do that! This is where things get gritty. In the
almost-two years of being critiqued by published and agented authors, as well
as my agent, I'm finally beginning to see that the majority of the time I'm
resistent to acting on feedback, when I boil it down it's because it seems like
too much work.
And in almost every single case where that is my driver, the feedback is
right.
I can tell myself the story doesn't need that, the character isn't like that,
yadda yadda yadda... but the truth is, if other writers / my agent can see it,
then an editor will too. What do I gain from pushing my story out there with
flaws I know exist? Nothing. Wouldn't it be better to take the time and effort
involved to fix the issues before someone who has a shot at making my
career reads it?
Step Four:
Rule #4
of Unpacking Criticism – It will
be worth it in the end.
Start
writing. Do the easy stuff first. When I see how much better the manuscript
becomes after that's done, I usually find a second wind for the harder changes.
And if I don’t… well, a little hard
work never hurt anyone (and is probably good preparation for the revision under
deadline I’ll do with an editor)
So
that's my process. I don't know how you're doing with receiving critique, but
if it's a struggle, I hope this helps.
Your Turn: Where are you at with getting feedback on your writing? Do you
have a writer's group? Critique partners? How do you cope with criticism of
your 'baby'?
***Exceptions
to the rule:
1. When five people have critiqued the manuscript, and only one has noted the
point (though it's probably still worth considering since that implies 20% of
my readers might have the same reaction.
2. When the comment comes from someone who knows zero about writing and
doesn't usually read my genre (this is more of a beta-screening issue - now I'm
pickier than I used to be).
Insecurity says your writing is awful. Humility says there's still work to be done.
Insecurity tells you everyone else is much better than you. Humility tells you that with the right focus, one day you could be that good.
Insecurity wants you to believe criticism is a personal attack and should be defended. Humility understands another pair of eyes might catch something you don't, so considers any feedback.
Insecurity gets jealous of other people's success. Humility cheers and sets a goal.
Insecurity says what's the point of revising again? Humility says, if I just keep working, one day it will get there.
Insecurity is scared to fail, so fails to try. Humility accepts failure as a risk because success might follow.
Insecurity is bruised by seeking out advice because it means others are better, stronger or more successful, and that's hard. Humility avidly seeks advice because others are better, stronger or more successful, so maybe they know something useful.
Insecurity despairs and gives up. Humility perserveres.
Which do you think is most likely to lead you to success?
Your Turn: How do you turn insecurity into humility? What are the hardest obstacles to overcome?
A couple years ago I had a really interesting email conversation with an agent who, for whatever reason, decided to be really open with me. In that conversation I learned two things:
1. I wasn't as good a writer as I thought I was.
2. I had the potential to become as good a writer as I thought I was.
Can you see the distinction?
That conversation (and some really good advice from published authors in my critique group) taught me that the difference between a really good writer, and a writer who could be good one day is translation: Translation of what is in your head to what goes on the page.
See, there are LOTS of writers with good ideas, interesting characters and engaging plots. There are (proportionally) very few writers with the skill to translate the ideas in their heads into words on the page in the way that communicates a fair representation of what they actually intended.
Stephen King calls it 'telepathy' - that ability to know exactly what details to draw out, exactly which movements and inflections to draw attention to, so as to take an image from your mind and put it into the mind of the reader.
I call it the frustratingly fleeting goal that I always seem to dance around and seldom hit.
But, whatever... my point is, anytime someone gives you constructive criticism on your work, they're trying to help you. They've seen the foundation of a really good story and they want to help you uncover it. You aren't there yet, but they believe you could be.
In my opinion, the difference between a good writer and a writer who "has potential" is what you do with that advice.
Your Turn: Have you ever struggled to get your story right? What did you learn from that process? What would you do differently / the same next time?
You know what I'm talking about...
It's the day when you look at another author's achievement, or your
recent rejection, or... well, just anything really, and you're certain
you'll absolutely, positively NEVER be a success. Never get that
contract, or achieve those sales, or make that list. It's the day the
dark monster of doubt clamps himself on your back and sinks his teeth
into your resolve.
It can be a really lonely experience if you don't have some solid
writer friends around you. With the best of intentions, non-Writers -
we'll call them "Wuggles" - can, with the best of intentions, add to
your sense of failure, or fear of obscurity.
So today all I want to tell you is that you aren't alone. I wrestled
the doubt demon for hours this morning. But, thank the lord, I was
armed with all those quotes, anecdotes, and "advice to writers" blots
I've read. I realized that when you boil it all down, they all say one
thing:
The only difference between failure and success is perserverence. Keep
writing. Keep learning. Most important, keep trying.
One day your dreams will come true. And hopefully, so will mine.
When I decided to do a series on rejection and perserverance, I specifically asked the lovely Anne Riley to do a guest post. Not just because she's lovely and funny and clearly a talented writer. But because I discovered Anne's blog when she wrote this insightful and uniquely awkward post.
I've since become an avid follower. Anne is one of the few bloggers who can intrigue me not only with her writing journey (which has had many ups and downs already - check out her "Journey to Publication" links near the bottom on the right of her blog!), but also with her personal stories about her day to day life.
True to form, Anne's taken an interesting approach to the rejections theme. She's told me all about the rejection of famous authors and books. I found it insightful (and encouraging) to read. I'm sure you will too:
Dear lovely readers of Aimee’s blog,
I tried to think of something I could tell you about rejection that you haven’t heard before. I wanted to be eloquent, funny, and maybe make you cry just a little. But to be honest? I’ve got nothing. Rejection sucks. Big time. And unfortunately, it’s gonna happen if you’re pursuing publication.
While I can’t find the words I want to say about that, I can show you some facts that might make you feel better. Some of these I gathered from the internet; others I’ve heard directly from the author. So pull up a chair and brace yourself, kids, ‘cause these stats are CRAZY.
William Golding’s LORD OF THE FLIES was rejected by 20 publishers. One publisher called the book “an absurd and uninteresting fantasy which was rubbish and dull.”
Stephen King’s CARRIE was once rejected with this comment: “We are not interested in science fiction which deals with negative utopias. They do not sell.” (Tell that to the YA dystopian bestsellers!)
JK Rowling’s HARRY POTTER AND THE PHILOSOPHER’S STONE was rejected by a dozen publishing houses, including some of the big ones like Penguin and HarperCollins. Bloomsbury only took it on because the CEO’s 8-year-old daughter begged her father to publish it.
John Grisham’s A TIME TO KILL was rejected by 16 agents and a dozen publishing houses before it was finally bought and printed.
Kiersten White, author of the NYT bestselling PARANORMALCY series, wasn’t able to sell the first book she went on submission with . . . at all.
One of Rudyard Kipling’s short stories was rejected with this comment by an editor: “I’m sorry, Mr. Kipling, but you just don’t know how to use the English language.”
Madeleine L’Engle’s A WRINKLE IN TIME was rejected by 26 publishers before going into print.
Margaret Mitchell’s GONE WITH THE WIND was rejected 38 times before being published.
Judy Blume has said that she received “nothing but rejections for two years.” In fact, here’s how the process went in her own words: “I would go to sleep at night feeling that I'd never be published. But I'd wake up in the morning convinced I would be. Each time I sent a story or book off to a publisher, I would sit down and begin something new. I was learning more with each effort. I was determined. Determination and hard work are as important as talent.”
Meg Cabot’s THE PRINCESS DIARIES was rejected by 17 publishers.
Beth Revis, author of the NYT bestseller ACROSS THE UNIVERSE, wrote ten books in ten years—none of which sold. ATU was her final attempt.
And finally, Kathryn Stockett, author of THE HELP, says that she stopped counting after 60 agent rejections.
Now. If THEY can do it, why can’t you?
Anne Riley is an author of young adult fiction disguised as a high school Spanish teacher. She lives in Birmingham, Alabama with her very attractive husband (some say he resembles Matt Damon) and her small, giggly daughter (otherwise known as "Baby Girl").
Her first book THE CLEARING is available in paperback here, on Kindle here and several other platforms linked from here.
When I talked to you guys about guest posting, I never imagined the response I'd get! Thanks to everyone who came forward (I've kept the list so those who didn't get a shot this time can drop in another time).
Today is the first guest post in my Rejections and Perserverance series. Her name's Margaret and she's got some interesting things to say about how that pile of query rejections in your drawer can be a gauge of your success as a writer. I think she's absolutely right. So take note!
Your Rejections Are a Measure of Your Success By Margaret Telsch-Williams
Rejections come from everywhere: they arrive in the mailbox, they shoot into our inboxes when we aren’t looking and when we’re checking it every five minutes. They span contests and grants, book publishers and magazines. We’re writers. We get rejections.
By now we should be used to it, right? We should shrug these things off, tack them on a nail on the wall a la Stephen King, or shout to someone in the next room, “I got another one. I’m getting closer.”
But we don’t. Instead we feel depressed, sometimes we cry, or we may consider throwing in the writing towel. We read those words over and over which often include a variety of letting-you-down-easys: a pleasure reading your work, thanks for submitting, not for us at this time, came close, I regret to inform you, and unfortunately because of the volume of submissions, blah, blah, blah.
If you’re lucky some vastly attractive person is sitting nearby to rub your shoulders, bring you coffee or wine, and tell you, “It’s okay.” I used to let the rejection simmer inside of me for a day before I even mentioned it, and for what?
The problem is that we’re programmed to believe rejections of our work are somehow also rejections of ourselves, but this simply isn’t true. The “yes” or “no” we receive is a black and white reflection of our work, but the rejection itself carries the gray area of information for us. In this gray area, you have the ability to swim endlessly and believe it or not, rejections are a measure of your success.
Yeah, maybe it isn’t that story’s time or maybe that story isn’t what they want, but the rejection can lead you forward even when it seems like it’s jamming on the brakes. Rejections show you your place on the scale between amateur and genius. There are better writers out there than you and there are worse writers out there, and your rejections hopefully say you fall in the middle.
The middle, by the way, is filled with great company.
Although you may want to trash every rejection that comes your way, keep your rejections in the order they arrive. If there’s no date, add it. If there’s no title of the piece you sent to get the rejection, put it in. Make each rejection tell you as much as possible about the submission and store them in a folder either real or virtual in the order they came to you. Rejections are not, I repeat, are not absolute and permanent banishment into the writer dungeon. Don’t obsess about this folder!
Now, you dust that story/novel/query off, you give it a read through, fix errors, make changes, do a line edit, etc., and submit the piece somewhere else. Continue this process, over and over, and keep the rejections (and acceptances) coming.
Let a few months go by, maybe a year, as you work until you have a good stack going. Then look through them. There are different levels of rejections from dreaded pre-printed form letters, to decent form letters with small notes written on them, to amazing personalized rejections and rose scented rejections which encourage you to submit again.
These rejection levels are your measurements. Compare the dates of your rejections, the submissions you used, and over time you should be able to see a healthy trend which climbs the ladder. The longer you stay in the game, the more small notes and personalized rejections you should start to see which eventually lead to acceptance.
If you’re not getting anything but form letters time after time, then your rejections are telling you to work a little harder, revise more, change your cover letter, or research where you’re sending your work better to make sure you’re sending to the right places.
To make the rejection ruler work for you, you collect your rejections, you see where you stand, and you work harder. The more your rejections climb, the more successes you can expect in the future.
(FYI: If you're not interested in working harder, then you might as well step into another profession, like neurosurgery.)
Hard work is what writing is about. Rejection is what it's about. Your rejections are trying to tell you if you’re getting better or not, so you’d better listen to what they have to say.
Margaret is a freelance writer by day and a fiction writer by night. When she’snot writing home & garden or entertainment information, she’s murderingfictional people, tearing families apart, and casting spells. She has anundergraduate degree in taking the comma out, and a graduate degree in puttingthe comma back in.
I've been blogging little lately because I've been critiquing.
As a member of a couple of different writers groups, I get the opportunity to review other people's manuscripts (and have mine reviewed) on a regular basis.
There's a lot to be learned from critiquing other people's work, but the one thing that I'm always reminded of is that it makes my writing better.
How? By opening my eyes to flaws in my own writing.
I couldn't count the number of times I've written comments on someone else's manuscript with wince - because as soon as I'm finished that critique I know I need to go hunt through my own for the very same flaws.
The truth is, the world I write is painted in full color for me - I know it's sights, sounds, feelings and rules. I understand what's important and who is who. But that's because I'll always see so much more than anyone else.
With all that knowledge, sometimes I'm blind to what my writing actually portrays. And sometimes I focus too much on extraneous detail because it caught my attention - whether it's important to the reader or not.
Reading someone else's book helps me see where my writing is failing the reader. It helps me identify what kinds of words and phrases are redundant. I see in context what kind of description and world-building is crucial. I'm reminded what it's like to read about characters for the first time - how important those physical tags are, reminding the reader what each character looks like.
Those are only a few.
If you get the chance to critique a writer who's better than you, the gains are even greater. You learn good writing by osmosis - and you also learn that even the professionals don't sit down and bang out a publishable draft the first time.
(At which point you have my permission to pump the air, shout 'Huzzah!' and do the "I'm Not a Loser" Dance).
So if you feel like it would take too much time to read someone else's work, time that cuts into your own writing, I'd encourage you to think again. In this instance, it truly is better to give than to receive.
And the good news is, when you see something in someone else's work that makes you squirm and blush, you've got the chance to go back and fix it with no one else the wiser.
No harm, no foul, right?
Your Turn: Have you ever critiqued a full novel? What did you learn from the process?
In the previous post we talked about the a need to develop a thick skin if you're going to be successful in publishing. I noted that for me the process required two things: Developing the humility to unpack criticism and the ability to separate rejection from failure.
If you missed the post on unpacking criticism, you can read it here.
But, what about all that rejection? Feedback and criticism aside, some friends and family aren't interested in my book or doubt the fact I can be a professional writer at all. Dozens of agents rejected my queries. Then, after I was signed, a handful of editors rejected my agent's submission - some after reading the manuscript in full.
Does that mean I'll never get published?
No, far from it. But it does mean I have more work to do to make sure I don't fail. It's been two years so far, and likely to be as long again before I see my book on the shelf (and that's an optimistic timeframe). The ability to separate rejection from failure is crucial if I'm going to keep going.
Failure: Non-performance of something due, required, or expected; a person or thing that proves unsuccessful; lack of success.
Hopefully you can see the difference.
I believe (and yes, this is just my opinion), that as writers we need to actively train ourselves to differentiate between rejection and failure. That is not to say we never fail, only that every rejection is not a failure.
How do I tell the difference?
Rejection means that someone doesn't like it, can't use it, doesn't want to spend money on it, doesn't appreciate it, etc, etc, etc. Response: Make changes if applicable, but move on. Keep going. Find another agent, editor, reader.
Rejection is something that occurs in every writer's life. Even the most successful books on the planet have been rejected by agents, editors and readers. It is literally inescapable. If you cannot handle rejection, you are in the wrong profession.
Failure, on the other hand, means the thing you have created has not served its purpose. It is not successful and never will be. Response: Trash the failed project, learn, learn, learn, then try again.
If every rejection meant your project had failed, pretty much every single writer out there would not be published. If, after the first few letters came back saying 'thanks, but no thanks', they pulled the project, the number of books on the shelf would be even fewer.
Rejection doesn't mean that book can't or won't be published. It just means that particular person doesn't buy into what you're doing.
That could come for any number of reasons: it may be that the agent or editor doesn't like your genre, or the approach you've taken to the genre. It might be that they already have a similar project. Maybe they read something else recently that had them more excited, so yours hasn't passed the comparison test. Or maybe they just didn't like it.
Or it could be because your project is 'failing'
Failure means either the writing or the premise isn't strong enough. It cannot and will not be published.
Since most of those rejections probably won't come back with a detailed analysis of what, exactly, the agent (or editor) didn't like, how do you know whether your project is being rejected, or completely failing?
You test the market.
1. You stop giving your manuscript to friends and family who love you and will likely support you even if they see flaws (or, as one writer told me, nit-pick for flaws out of envy).
2. You find a writers group that involves people who know the craft of writing and who will read the whole book.
3. Maybe you enter your first page up on Page-to-Fame on the website http://www.webook.com/ and let other writers / readers tell you if your work is engaging. If it's successful, you'll get to round two (first five pages) or round three (first fifty pages).
4. You could attend a writer's conference and speak to an agent or editor directly (not to mention get involved in workshops or lectures that could add to your knowledge of the craft).
5. If you can afford it, you find a freelance editor to take a look.
6. Insert a multitude of other options here.
In short, you hunt down people with a professional knowledge of writing, do whatever it takes to get your manuscript in front of them, invite brutally honest opinion, then listen to what they have to say.
At which point you put into practice the humility you've adopted to unpack criticism so it makes you a better writer who, when their rejections are done, has a traditionally published book in their hands.
Check out the quote underneath the title of this blog. The only way to be absolutely certain your project is being rejected, rather than failing, is to just keep going.
Then on one glorious day, it will be a success.
Capeche?
WHAT ABOUT YOU? Have you developed a radar for rejection vs. failure? What helps you get through the let-down of a rejection?
Published authors, agents and editors talk A LOT about how there's a need to develop a thick skin if you're going to be successful in publishing. But what does that really mean?
Primarily, in my experience at least, it means two things: Developing the humility to unpack criticism and the ability to separate rejection from failure.
I'll talk about rejection in the next post, but for now, I want to address how to go about...
Unpacking Criticism
When someone reads your work and gives feedback that isn't complimentary, there are three ways to react: 1. Anger or defensiveness; 2. Retreating out of fear of further hurt; 3. With thoughtful consideration.
The third option is the only one that will improve your chances of success in publication.
Now, don't get me wrong. I've felt the anger of a criticism: "What do you mean it was a little flat?! Are you kidding me?! I spent DAYS on that scene! And now I need more exclamation points to fully express the emphatic nature of these statements!!!".
I've had moments where I'd like to crawl under a rock and pretend I never wrote a word. And I've written fourteen page emails explaining to my critique partners exactly why that scene / character / plotpoint had to be that way...
But in the end, those reactions don't make me a better writer.
For me, unpacking criticism is a four part process:
Part One: After I read feedback or critique, I let myself react emotionally (where no one else can see). I feel the feelings, have the justification conversation with myself, throw a pity-party or shed a tear - whatever is required to vent the emotional response I've had. Then I wait for myself to calm down (NB: Sometimes this takes minutes, sometimes hours, sometimes days).
Rule #1 for Part One of Unpacking Criticism - Thou shalt not respond - at all.
Rule #2 - If response is absolutely required, it shalt only acknowledge receipt, gratitude for time taken by critiquer and statement of intention to consider all points. (i.e. "Thanks for sending that through! I really appreciate your time. I'll get back to you when I've had a chance to digest it all.)
Part Two: Once the intial shock / emotional crisis has passed, I review who the critique or feedback came from. Are they further along in the journey than I am? If so, do they have a vested interest in seeing me succeed? How familiar are they with my genre? Are they published? Are they an agent / editor? What is their experience or knowledge of the craft?
In the vast majority of cases, I am reminded that this person is either a fellow-writer with a genuine desire to help, or a professional with a much sharper, more experienced eye than my own. In other words: I renew my respect for the source.
Only very rarely do I finish this part of the process with a caution to myself that this person might not know an adverb from a gerbil.***
I also take some time to remind myself fresh eyes can catch things a reader would see that I'm blind to and remember how much better I've felt about my story in the past after taking on board some of the suggestions for change from previous critiques.
Rule #1 of Part Two of Unpacking Criticism - Honesty is the best policy. Do yourself a favor and admit you don't know everything - even if it's only to yourself.
Part Three: I sit down with the critique and re-read it, highlighting any points that immediately jump out as 'right'. I make notes on how and where I'll action those points, then sift through the rest.
All other pieces of critique will fall into one of two categories:
The reader doesn't understand! Whenever I feel this way, I'm reminded it's my writing that failed - because no one can read any book except the one I wrote. So either I need to give more information, change my approach, or clarify something to ensure everyone 'gets it'.
I don't want to do that! This is where things get gritty. In the almost-two years of being critiqued by published and agented authors, as well as my agent, I'm finally beginning to see that the majority of the time I'm resistent to acting on feedback, when I boil it down it's because it seems like too much work.
And in almost every single case where that is my driver, the feedback is right.
I can tell myself the story doesn't need that, the character isn't like that, yadda yadda yadda... but the truth is, if other writers / my agent can see it, then an editor will too. What do I gain from pushing my story out there with flaws I know exist? Nothing. Wouldn't it be better to take the time and effort involved to fix the issues before someone who has a shot at making my career reads it?
Step Four: Start writing. Do the easy stuff first. When I see how much better the manuscript becomes after that's done, I usually find a second wind for the harder changes.
So that's my process. I don't know how you're doing with receiving critique, but if it's a struggle, I hope this helps.
Where are you at with getting feedback on your writing? Do you have a writer's group? Critique partners? How do you cope with criticism of your 'baby'?
***Exceptions to the rule:
1. When five people have critiqued the manuscript, and only one has noted the point (though it's probably still worth considering since that implies 20% of my readers might have the same reaction.
2. When the comment comes from someone who knows zero about writing and doesn't usually read my genre (this is more of a beta-screening issue - now I'm pickier than I used to be).
