I read an article many years ago about the value of critique
groups for writers. The only thing I
really remember about the article is that it seemed to be picking on my
grandmother. It said a lot of things
like, “Your grandmother will love what you write no matter what,” and “Your
grandmother thinks she’s being kind when she says your book is perfect the way
it is,” and “Your grandmother doesn’t want to admit to herself that your book
has flaws, let alone say that to you.”
I know what a generalization is and I know why that one
exists, but I still sort of wanted to introduce the article’s author to my grandmother. She was a retired English teacher. She was sharper than the best cheddar and not
afraid of hard truths. Her belief that
letting students see her smile would make her appear soft earned her the
nickname “Stoneface.”
When my grandmother read one of my early works, she only
said, “The past tense of lie is lay.”
Then she changed the subject.
While I’m not going to lie and say I wouldn’t have enjoyed a
little praise mixed in – because this was my grandmother – she did actually tell me exactly what I wanted to
hear. She gave me something concrete and
fixable. (The only thing that would have
made it better was the page number where I made that mistake.) Concrete and fixable is usually what I’m
after when I look for help with my books.
Once I have a book to the point I’m pretty happy with it, I find as many
people as I can to read it and tell me about the things that shouldn’t make me
happy, the mistakes I can’t see because I’m too familiar.
Imagine that someone pushed text under your nose that you
know by heart, maybe the Lord’s Prayer or favorite song lyrics. You wouldn’t actually read it, would
you? You might be looking at the words,
but they’d already be printed on your brain.
You probably wouldn’t notice if something was misspelled or mixed up
unless you forced yourself to go slowly and study each word. I try.
It’s hard to do that for an entire book.
This is when I need help from those who don’t have parts of the book
memorized.
So I ask for help.
And I get help.
Comments from other family members have included: “I just
don’t think that would happen.” “Is it
too late to suggest changes?” “You can
call that a style thing, but it bugs the heck out of me.” “I stumbled over and reread that sentence
many times.” “Your characters are so
nice I want to gag.” “Can I have a copy
of that manuscript so I can try to fix it for you?”
I didn’t need that article I mentioned above to convince me
of the value of critique groups. I truly
value any feedback I receive. I try to
listen for valid points even when those points are stabbing holes in my
pride. I have made changes based on some
of these suggestions. But that’s not
what Stage 5 is supposed to look like.
Stage 5 is about polishing.
It’s about getting typos and concrete mistakes pointed out. The help stage is about people telling me specifically
where I’m wrong. People handing me a
list of mistakes. People making sure I
know how perfectly human I am in nice, simple lists. I could call it proofreading. I call it help because everyone loves me
enough to be more honest than I ask.