In our initial blog on critiquing, we mentioned some of the benefits of having critique partners or being in a critique group. One of them was having someone to use as a sounding board when you are having trouble with your work. That can also work in other ways.
One of the great benefits of having a critique relationship is that you should be working with someone who knows your work and understands what you write and what you’re trying to accomplish. That’s why when you come up with a new idea, that person or that group can help you think things through even before you start to write.
Yes, we’re talking about brainstorming.
At lunch with several other Heart of Denver writers, the subject of brainstorming came up and one writer lamented the lack of having someone with whom they could discuss their stories. Writing is a lonely occupation and it’s good to have that sounding board every so often.
Is this idea too daring?
Would this plot device work?
Why isn’t this scene working?
What if I want to try something totally different?
That is where the critique partner or group can help. In our own critique group, we came up with an idea of having a plotting and brainstorming day where everyone comes armed with ideas for their stories and then the group sits down and tosses everything around. Hopefully by the end of the day, everyone goes away with something new to work on.
There were four of us, and we decided each person would get a little over an hour in which all of us would work on one writer’s idea.
We put aside our normal meeting place and got together in one of the gal’s home—her her dining room to be exact ( though we’ve also done it in a library study room)—where we could all sit in comfort, have drinks and perhaps a sandwich, and spent several hours going through each other’s plots and characters.
The only tools necessary were a big dry erase board, sticky notes and a clear head filled with creative ideas.
One person would start with an opening idea of what she wanted to write about and then everyone could toss out their ideas. The person whose book it was would write them down and we would put them up on the board. Nothing was off the table and we came up with a variety of ideas. We put the ideas up on the board with the sticky notes, so they could be moved around. Soon we had the notes arranged into a workable/suitable plot. We even went so far as to create specific scenes. When the hour was up the plot had come to life.
Now you might think that it would make more sense to put them into your computer as the ideas come up. That would allow for moving them around or making quick changes. The benefit of putting them up on the board was that everyone could easily see them all at once. And using sticky notes was good because they were easy to move around or to tear down if you thought something wasn’t going to work.
Having the meeting at a house worked well because we could get up, walk around and then come back and take another look at the board. The same is true for a library study room. The idea is to have it in an area where you can move around, take your time and think. Stand for a while, sit for a while, drink coffee, stretch, and stretch your brains with new ideas.
When we were finished with one person, she would take down the sticky notes—in order—and then put them into her computer for use later or to re-arrange later at home. We’d then move on to the next person and begin a new story.
The fun part is this can get you new ideas and totally different suggestions for your story that you, sitting alone at your computer, would never have thought of. But it can also help to get your own creative juices flowing. Later as you write the ideas into your computer or put them down on paper in logical order you might have even more ideas that you can use. You might also come up with some new ideas for your own story as you help out the others.
And that brings us to this month’s piece we are critiquing – we were sent a piece by one of our students who wanted us to take a look at her work. She is trying something a little different and wanted our take on what she is doing. Again, this is a good reason for having a critique partner or group. They can look over what you are writing and not only critique the writing, but see if your intent works.
She is writing this from the villain’s point of view—the intruder and has to be careful not to let the reader know that person’s sex.
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The thick Aubusson rug muffled all sound as the lone intruder entered the dimly lit main salon of the city’s most exclusive coutourier, Mon Chèrie. Oil paintings depicting nineteenth-century New Orleans hung on cream-colored walls. Delicate spindle-legged tables held Tiffany lamps. Brocaded love seats were arranged for clients to enjoy crystal glasses of champagne while being shown rich fabrics and silks. An archway with tied-back burgundy velvet drapes led into a world of exquisite lace-edged lingerie and Mon Chèrie’s signature Fleur-de-Lis lotions, bath oils and perfume.
The intruder smiled with smug satisfaction. Soon, very very soon, all of this will finally be in the hands of its proper heir.
The ormolu clock on the Adams mantel chimed twice. The intruder hurried to the office in the back of the shop. Turning up the desk lamp, impatient fingers tapped upon the desk’s smooth mahogany surface while waiting for the computer to boot up. When the Quicken icon appeared, triumph gleamed in the intruder’s eyes, but was quickly replaced by fury.
Damn , damn, damn, I should have known those two would have it protected. Okay, think. What would they use for a password? The top of the desk was clear, other than for a small stack of fabric swatches. The desk drawers were neat and orderly. No help.
The intruder began to pace nervously. Okay, neither Caterine nor the old lady would keep valuable information on just the computer. There had to be printouts. The file cabinet was next. Each drawer was yanked open and the folders pawed through. Come on, it has to be somewhere. Having found nothing, the intruder kicked the bottom drawer shut.
Hands balled into fists, the intruder began to shake. I need to see those God damned account files. A safe. There has to be a safe. The intruder began to search the room frantically. When a wall safe was finally discovered behind a painting of a riverboat, the intruder smiled with satisfaction. Seeing the safe had a combination lock, the intruder hissed through gritted teeth, God damn, God damn, God damn, I hate both those bitches.
Spotting a photograph of a pretty blond-haired, blue-eyed young woman standing beside a distinguished older woman as they accepted an award, the intruder picked it up intending to smash it against the wall. Startled by the buzz of an incoming fax, the intruder let the photograph slip through trembling fingers to land with a thump on the thick rug.
Okay, okay, I have to calm down and be clear headed. There have to be other ways of getting the information I need. If things go according to plan, everything I want will soon be at my fingertips. A malevolent smile crept across the intruder’s face as the photograph was replaced intact. One of you will be dead and the other getting what she deserves. Yes, soon it would all fall into place. I just have to be very clever and bide my time. As the lamp was switched off, the last flicker of light illuminated the intruder’s cold and deadly eyes.
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Becky’s comments are in blue, Sue’s are in red.
The thick Aubusson rug muffled all sound as the lone intruder crept (delete entered—this verb needs to be more descriptive) the dimly lit main salon of the city’s most exclusive coutourier, Mon Chèrie.
(need a reaction here. Did the intruder catch his/her breath? Think Beautiful, perhaps?)
Oil paintings depicting nineteenth-century New Orleans hung on cream-colored walls. Delicate spindle-legged tables held Tiffany lamps. Brocaded love seats were arranged for clients to enjoy crystal glasses of champagne while being shown rich fabrics and silks. An archway with tied-back burgundy velvet drapes led into a world of exquisite lace-edged lingerie and Mon Chèrie’s signature Fleur-de-Lis lotions, bath oils and perfume.
The intruder smiled with smug satisfaction.
(new paragraph) Soon, very very-delete soon, all of this will finally be in the hands of its proper heir.
The ormolu clock on the Adams mantel chimed twice. The intruder hurried to the office in the back of the shop. Turning up the desk lamp, impatient fingers tapped (upon—delete) the desk’s smooth mahogany surface while waiting for the computer to boot up. When the Quicken icon appeared, triumph gleamed in the intruder’s eyes only to be replaced by fury. (but was quickly replaced by fury.-delete)
Damn , damn, damn, I should have known those two would have it protected. Okay, think. What would they use for a password?
(new paragraph) The top of the desk was clear, other than for a small stack of fabric swatches. The desk drawers were neat and orderly. No help.
The intruder began to pace. (Nervously-delete not necessary – pace denotes being nervous).
Okay, neither Caterine nor the old lady would keep valuable information on just the computer. There had to be printouts. The file cabinet was next. Each drawer was yanked open and the folders pawed through.
(new paragraph) Come on, it has to be somewhere. Having found nothing, the intruder kicked the bottom drawer shut. (no paragraph) Hands balled into fists, the intruder began to shake.
(new paragraph) I need to see those God damned account files. A safe. There has to be a safe.
(new paragraph) The intruder began to search the room frantically. When a wall safe was finally discovered behind a painting of a riverboat, the intruder smiled. (with satisfaction-delete or change, did that earlier). Seeing the safe had a combination lock, the intruder hissed through gritted teeth.
God damn, God damn, God damn, I hate both those bitches.
Spotting a photograph of a pretty blond-haired, blue-eyed young woman standing beside a distinguished older woman as they accepted an award, the intruder picked it up intending to smash it against the wall. Startled by the buzz of an incoming fax, the intruder let the photograph slip through trembling fingers to land with a thump on the thick rug.
Okay, okay, I have to calm down and be clear headed. There have to be other ways of getting the information I need. If things go according to plan, everything I want will soon be at my fingertips.
A malevolent smile crept across the intruder’s face as the photograph was replaced intact.
One of you will be dead and the other getting what she deserves.
(new paragraph) Yes, soon it would all fall into place.
I just have to be very clever and bide my time.
(new paragraph) As the lamp was switched off, the last flicker of light illuminated the intruder’s cold and deadly eyes.
(This scene works for what it’s intended to do, but it is a long passage with just one person doing everything and much of it in thought. One way to make it move quicker is to break up some of the action into shorter paragraphs, as though the thoughts are dialogue—which in a way, they are--internal dialogue. )
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As I read this scene my first thought was...what is the author trying to tell us? Right, the intruder wants something so s/he can have his/her revenge, but I think there is more to it, as we are hearing the intruder’s thoughts. So what can we learn from both the thoughts and the actions... is the guy/gal really that stupid that s/he would leave behind evidence that s/he had been there?
I want the intruder to be smart...very smart... as smart killers are much more interesting... so I have tried to make this person a bit more intelligent....
I also had a lot of questions.. they are marked in yellow ....for the writer to think about...not all need to be answered, but as a reader I was curious...
The thick Aubusson rug muffled all sound as the lone intruder cautiously entered the dimly lit main salon of the city’s most exclusive coutourier, Mon Chèrie. Now with everyone know what a “coutourier” is...??? Oil paintings depicting nineteenth-century New Orleans hung on cream-colored walls. Delicate spindle-legged tables held Tiffany lamps. Brocaded love seats were strategically arranged so the clients could enjoy crystal glasses of champagne while being shown rich fabrics and silks. An archwaywith tied-back burgundy velvet drapes led into a world of exquisite lace-edged lingerie and Mon Chèrie’s signature Fleur-de-Lis lotions, bath oils and perfume.
The intruder smiled with smug satisfaction. Soon, very soon, all of this will finally be in the hands of its proper heir. (Okay...here’s one of my questions...this implies that this person is not doing it for him/herself. So it this is true, we need a hint as to why this person would do this for someone else...)
The ormolu clock on the Adams mantel chimed twice breaking the deep silence of the rooms
The intruder hurried though the show rooms (this also implies that the person came in the front door...if this is so, how? did s/he have a key?) to the office in the back of the shop. Turning up the desk lamp, this implies that the lamp is on... no one that I know leaves an office lamp on at night... impatient fingers drummed is a bit more powerful upon the desk’s smooth mahogany surface waiting for the computer to boot up. When the Quicken icon appeared, triumph gleamed in the intruder’s eyes, but was quickly replaced by fury. this is all telling...show me how s/he feels.
Damn , damn, damn, pretty luke warm swear words for a nasty person...once again giving me, the reader a hint that this is a woman. I should have known it would be protected. Okay, think. What would they use for a password?
The top of the desk was clear, what... how could it be clear if the computer was on top of it??? and it also had a light on it... so this doesn’t work...other than for a small stack of fabric swatches.
One by one the drawers were opened. Damn...no cards, no passwords hidden in them.
The intruder paced let’s change the verb from passive to active. don’t need the adverb as paced implies nervous....Okay, neither Caterine nor the old lady would keep valuable information on just the computer. There had to be printouts.
The tall file cabinet against the far wall was next.
Each drawer was yanked open and the folders pawed through. Come on, it has to be somewhere. (Question... here is where you can give the reader a clue about the intruder... if s/he doesn’t want to be found out, then the papers and files have to be put back carefully so no one will know anyone has gone through them...decide..is the person angry and messy, or angry and cautious???? big difference) Having found nothing, the intruder kicked once again how s/he closes this implies the sex of the person... so you have me confused...kicked is a male action while tip-toeing is a female action...the bottom drawer shut.
Hands balled into fists, (male) the intruder shook. I need to see those God damned account files. A safe. There has to be a safe. The intruder searched the room. telling... When a locked wall safe was discovered behind a painting of a riverboat, the intruder hissed through gritted teeth, God damn, God damn, God damn, wouldn’t this person wonder where else they might keep this information...
Spotting a photograph of a pretty blond-haired, blue-eyed young woman standing beside a distinguished older woman as they accepted an award, the intruder picked it up intending to smash it against the wall. Startled by the buzz of an incoming fax, would s/he want to see what was on the fax??? the intruder let the photograph slip through trembling fingers to land with a thump on the thick rug.
Okay, okay, I have to calm down. There has to be another way of getting the information If things go according to plan, everything I want will soon be at my fingertips. A malevolent smile crept across the intruder’s face as the photograph was replaced intact moving it back to its exact original position on the table/desktop. One of you will be dead and the other getting what she deserves. Yes, soon it would all fall into place. I have to bide my time.
Giving the office one last glance to be sure nothing had been moved the intruder switched off the lamp and stepped out into the cold night knowing what had to be done in the morning.
Conclusions:
• short paragraphs will give the reader a sense of urgency
• active verbs work better
• need to be sure no hints are given as to the gender of the intruder
• not so much “telling”... more showing
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