The Critique Corner

Ten Reasons for Having a Critique Group or Partner

2012-01-04T07:01:00.000-08:00

“I not only use all the brains I have, but all that I can borrow.” Woodrow Wilson.

If our presidents can form focus groups, have advisors (which is really just a fancy name for a critique group) and interview people from all walks of life BEFORE they make a speech, draw up a new law or make a decision that will affect all of our lives, we writers ought to be able to turn to our own form of advisors. We’re talking about the advantages of having our own critique group or at least a critique partner to help us with our stories.

As we begin the new year we got to thinking about various reasons for having a critique group or partner and the various ways that those others can help us or already help us with our work. We’ve come up with ten very good reasons to either be in a critique community or have a critique partner. If you don’t find any critique partners or group around you, then maybe you want to go out and form your own critique group.

Here is what we’ve come up with:

1 - It’s another pair of eyes that can catch those little pesky problems such as
•   typos
•   misspellings
•   bad word choices

2 - They can provide help when you get stuck by
•   suggesting new research resources
•   sharing their own personal knowledge

3 - Critique partners and groups can provide help in setting and meeting deadlines
•   If you meet once a week and so many pages have to done, deadlines will be met
•   Knowing you have to write so many pages this week or next can help you set up a workable writing schedule

4 - They are company on your desert writing island
•   Writing can be a lonely occupation, and it helps to “share” your words with another writer and not your mate or family
•   They can provide a lift when you are feeling down because they better understand your writing “pain”

5 - They can suggest new ideas for your story
•   Brainstorming is one of the major values of having a critique group. Others might think of things that you will never have come up with.
•   The group or your partner might offer ways of trying alternatives you were uncertain about.

6 - Boost your ego
•   A good critique partner can find the good parts of your work and point them out
•   As you critique the work of others you will see places where they might have trouble but where you shine or get a glimpse of things that you constantly do right.

7 - Suggest new twists and turns to your story.
•   Some critique partners are great at creating new and exciting plot points.
•   Others are extremely helpful in giving you ideas for making your characters come alive.
•   Other partners might have a special knack for making emotional passages sing and can help you improve that part of your manuscript.

8 - Give you helpful feedback
•   Here is where critique groups shine, as they often see the big picture and can “point” the scene on a better path.
•   An honest group or partner will point out the weak spots and perhaps give you ideas for fixing them.

9 - Keep you going.
•   They can help you through the dreary times when you don’t want to write something new.
•   They can point out the reasons your manuscript deserves to be finished and submitted.

10- Share your vision
•   Give your encouragement in order for you to reach your goal
•   By sharing their own visions they can help you reach for those stars

But there is also a CAVEAT for writers... caveat scribus. Please remember that all critiquers and critique groups are NOT EQUAL.

•   Personalities vary. You will probably need to try several writers and several groups in order to find just the right one
•   Level of expertise of the writers can make a difference. It’s always best to have a variety in the group, some beginners and some more advanced.
•   Dedication. Be sure your people are truly dedicated to the overall principal that each and every person in the group wants to make whose ever writing they are working on, the very best they can. No egos are allowed.

If you are already in a group or have a great partner, then rejoice! But if not, then you might want to check out options for finding a partner. Local writing groups often have critique opportunities or look around at your local writing group and ask around and see if there are others who might be in the same boat.

Remember the old Polish proverb as it relates to critique groups.
            “Two (or more) heads are better than one.”

Let’s get off to a great new year in critiquing! If you have ideas for starting a group or other ideas for why you enjoy having a group or partner, please leave a comment. We'd love to hear from you.
Also remember if you have some pages you would like us to critique for the Critique Corner, please email them to writethatnovel@gmail.com.

Seeing the Trees and the Forest - Good Beginnings

2011-11-08T12:27:00.001-08:00

How often have you read and re-read your words until, like the cliché says, you can’t see the forest for the trees? We writers tend to get lost in our own writing. We’re thrilled at the words as they “smile” at us from the computer screen. God, this is great writing, we secretly say to ourselves.

Unfortunately, our poor brains glance through and overlook all the was’s, saids, shes and hes. We’re not even aware of the repeated sentences, the repetitious patterns, the over use of simple words such as “all” or “just” or even “always” and of course we don’t see any of the contractions because they aren’t there. There is something in our brains that when we are writing, we think “He’ll” or “couldn’t” but when those fingers are on the keyboard the words come out “he will” or “could not”...

But one of the biggest problems we face is the overwhelming desire to let the reader know the background of our main characters. We have a tendency to put way to much information in the first few pages...we call it an “info dump” where in the writer feels compelled to fill in the reader on all sorts of things that happened in the character’s past

These info dumps are somewhat like garbage dumps, they contain all sorts of stuff that is not really needed. In this month’s critique the writer, who really wants us to know about the main character’s family has tossed in all sorts of unnecessary names and facts. And way too many names... for in these few paragraphs the writer has introduced seven people.

We strongly believe that the first few chapters of any story should get the plot moving even as it introduces the main character. Seasoned writers know that it takes a chapter or two for the reader to get acquainted with the protagonist and learn to come to grips with the story line. The reader has to be able to get into the character’s shoes so to speak, to have empathy with him or her, to feel their pain, their desire to solve the mystery or to fix whatever problem the character faces. Readers don’t want to go along for the story-ride with a character they don’t care about or like.

This is where a good critique group or partner can help you out. Having your precious words seen by a fresh pair of eyes so these problems can be caught and either changed or corrected or even edited out can tremendously help your work and get it ready for publication. Having a critique partner you can trust is important. The longer you work with a person, the more likely it is that your partner or group will get to know your problem areas and look for them. They’ll know how you often you might overuse a word or misspell something. They’ll recognize when you get into a certain pattern that needs to be fixed. And just by giving you that feedback they can help you prepare for next time. If they see the forest as well as the trees, maybe they can help you see them both next time too.

The following scene was sent in to us with the following information.

This is a total rewrite of a mystery story about a kidnapped I finished several months ago. I need someone to look it over with “fresh eyes” and give me their professional thoughts.

Chapter ONE

Amy struggled to keep her foot from tapping the gas harder. Today’s weather rocked. Blue sky the type of blue that hurt your eyes it was so bright. The air was fresh and the temperature hovered in the low eighties.

One of the weather forecasters predicted rain tonight into the early morning. Amy hoped it didn’t affect her flight. The trees and flowers of Hawaii absorbed the gentle rains and grew everywhere with ease. But this evening she needed the rain to hold off until she lifted off for the Mainland.

Excitement bounced through her veins. If she were a kid, it would be like summer vacation at the end of the school year for children. She headed for her daughter’s daycare center. A five day weekend and she would meet it straight ahead.

Plane reservations were set. They would spend her five day weekend with her in-laws. Two fun people who didn’t get to see their granddaughter often enough. Her in-laws Lisa and Mike Raines didn’t manage to visit often. Since the death of their son Justin, they’d only flown to the islands twice. The pain of losing Justin hurt all of them. That pain still hung on like a bad back.

She’d offered to bring them to Hawaii to celebrate but their remaining children vetoed the idea. Amy’s shock had diminished with a phone call from Belle, her sister-in-law. Belle wanted to let Amy know they were hosting a surprise anniversary party for Justin’s parents. She knew everyone would love for Amy and Chloe to come. Amy’s enthusiasm for the plan increased when she arranged for two days of leave to coincide with the Monday holiday and the Friday training holiday. This allowed her time to relax. Now she and Chloe had a flight scheduled out tonight.

Wheeling into the daycare’s parking lot, she slammed out of the car and headed for the entrance. The mental list of items to do ticked off as she hurried up the sidewalk. Her soft-soled combat boots made no noise as she double-timed it to the door.

Removing her hat and sunglasses as she entered she searched for Chloe. They’re supposed to have her ready and waiting. The time between now and departure limited to what she’d worked out earlier. She planned to rush home ditch the ACU uniform, grab their suitcases and head for Honolulu International.

Amy craned her neck to see if Chloe was in the open room down the hallway. She knew Noelani, the director, as the spouse of one of her fellow officers.

“Hey Noelani,” she stepped behind the screened print divider, creating Noelani’s office, greeting the director.

“Hi Amy,” the woman seated at her desk had short blond hair that gave her the look of a pixie. Right now she ran her hands over the top her head. Searching for her glasses Amy smiled and pointed.

Following are our comments. Sue’s are in RED and Becky’s are in BLUE

My first overall comment is confusion...in these 481 words the writer has introduced seven (7) different people... and they all have names. So the reader, at least me, is struggling to keep track of who all these people are...for if they have names, they must be important to the story.

Although I assume it is late afternoon, as Amy is picking up her daughter, it could be noon, as I don’t know the age of the child I don’t know if it’s a pre-school or a regular school

Finally, most of this is background info and not needed... I really don’t care who her in-laws are, who her sister-in-law is... the only names and people I need to know are Amy, the daughter Chloe and possibly the director of the school Noelani...

Save all this other info for later in the story, let’s get into the action as soon as possible...

Now we were told by the author that this is a story about a kidnapping...so I’m going to assume it it the child... and that this is a mystery...so let’s get into it right away.

So I am NOT going to make any changes/corrections/edits in the scene, I’m just going to show you how I would have started the story.

**************************************************************

Amy pulled up to the pre-school late, as she had to stop at the apartment and grab both suitcases and the plane tickets. (we know right away that they are going on a trip and it is a mother and child) Running into the building she noticed there were no other cars in the small parking lot. (give the reader a hint of the problem to come)

“Hey Noelani,” Amy found the director in the hall and greeted her warmly. “Sorry I’m late, where’s Chloe? We don’t want to miss the plane.”

“Chloe’s not here.”

“What?” Amy heart did a triple beat. “Where is she?”

“Her uncle picked her up.”

“Noelani,” Amy struggled to speak, “Chloe doesn’t have an uncle.”

*************************************************************

Becky - I am going a different direction. I like to keep the author’s voice present as much as possible.

Amy struggled to keep her foot from tapping the gas harder. Today’s weather rocked. Blue sky the type of blue that was so bright it hurt your eyes. The air was fresh (be specific – did it smell a certain way? Was it crisp or smooth on your skin?) and the temperature hovered in the low eighties.

One of the weather forecasters predicted rain tonight. (Delete- into the early morning. Amy hoped it didn’t affect her flight to the Mainland. (Delete this next part – not necessary) The trees and flowers of Hawaii absorbed the gentle rains and grew everywhere with ease. But this evening she needed the rain to hold off until she lifted off for the Mainland.

Excitement bounced through her veins. If she were a kid, it would be like summer vacation at the end of the school year for children. (hold off till later)She headed for her daughter’s daycare center. A five day weekend and she would meet it straight on. (delete ahead.

Plane reservations were set. She and her daughter Chloe would spend her five day weekend with her in-laws, Lisa and Mike Raines, two fun people who didn’t get to see their granddaughter often enough. Since the death of their son, they’d only flown to the islands twice. The pain of losing Justin hurt all of them. (Delete -That pain still hung on like a bad back.

(Delete the next paragraph – too much information. It can be handled with just a couple of simple sentences).

Now this long weekend promised some joy—a surprise anniversary party for Lisa and Mike. She and Chloe had a flight scheduled out tonight.

Removing her hat and sunglasses as she entered, she searched for Chloe. They were supposed to have her ready and waiting. Their time was limited and she still needed to rush home, ditch the ACU uniform, grab their suitcases and head for Honolulu International (delete - time between now and departure limited to what she’d worked out earlier.

Amy craned her neck to see if Chloe was in the open room down the hallway. She knew Noelani, the director, as the spouse of one of her fellow officers.

“Hey Noelani.” She stepped behind the screened print divider, creating Noelani’s office, greeting the director. (if you’re using an action tag, it must be a new sentence.)

“Hi, Amy.” The woman seated at her desk had short blond hair that gave her the look of a pixie. Right now she ran her hands over the top her head.

Searching for her glasses, Amy smiled and pointed.

My advice would be for the writer to tighten up the writing by watching for extra words she can delete, but I do like all the little details she is giving us. This is the beginning of the story so we want the story set up and since it is starting in Hawaii, I like the way she throws in information about the warmth, the blueness of the sky and I like that she paints a picture of what Amy is wearing. It gives us a better understanding of who Amy is. And while we don't need an overabundance of information, I'd like to know why she's taking a trip and where she's going.

Guest Blogger - Brenna Ash - To Critique or Not to Critique

2011-10-09T11:28:00.001-07:00

Hey guys... we are always looking around for new ideas on critiquing or for other blogs on critiquing. Recently we found this great blog on Brenna Ash’s site. She was kind enough to let us “borrow” it... so we are presenting it for you. It got us to wondering if any of you out there in writing land, also have some thoughts on critiquing you’d like to share. If so, let us know. Now enjoy Brenna thoughts on critiquing:

To critique or not to critique...that is the question
by Brenna Ash

There are so many different opinions when it comes to critiquing. Should I have a critique partner? Should it be someone published? Should it be someone that I know? Someone that writes the same thing I do? Same voice, style? The list goes on and on.
Do I have the answers? No, not at all. But since I've been writing I've been in several different types of critique groups.

Way back when I started doing this writing thing, I took a romance writing course. The course was great, contained lots of information that I was totally clueless about and had a lot of attendees. A group of us, about 4 or 5, decided that once the class ended, we would remain in touch and create a critique group amongst ourselves. Well, this worked out okay, we swapped ideas back and forth, offered suggestions, little fixes here and there. It worked since we were all at the beginning of our writing dream. As time went on, we grew apart and for the most part, the group disbanded.

A couple of us from that group went on to another critique group. This one had a mixture of people from various levels of experience but still no one that had been published. These critiques were brutal. Unfortunately, the problem with this group was that everyone had such varying degrees of how things should be written and sort of a my way or the highway mentality. Needless to say, this didn't last long.

I then went on to single critique partners. I matched up with someone I had met in another class. This worked for a while, but we drifted apart as our writing took on different sub-genres that the other wasn't interested in.

Then one of the loops I belong to had a critique partner matching service. So, I said why not and signed up for that, glutton for punishment that I am. This was short-lived. While the critiques were helpful, life got in the way for both of us and our partnership soon fell apart.

Now, all through these critique-dabbling I was doing, I stayed in contact with someone I'd met through the first ever class I'd taken (we're best friends now) and she's always willing to read my work and offer suggestions. She's great and has offered some fantastic ideas and brainstorming moments over the years. I'd be lost without her.

Which brings me to the present. In the last two months or so I really got to think about how I could really use a mentor/critique partner that knows the business. Someone who's been published and would be willing to work with me and be honest and not hold back. I don't have any problems taking criticism. I know my work needs help. Hell, we all have to start somewhere, right?

So, I managed to hook up with a multi-published author to critique with.

This has been the best thing that has happened to my writing in a long, long time.

She is fantastic. I think I had her worried the first time she critiqued my work. She wasn't sure I'd be okay with the in-depth critque she did. She wanted to talk to me before she sent it over.

My thoughts? Hell yeah, I was ready, send it on over.

Believe it or not, my mind didn't change when I saw all of the things I'd done wrong, the grammatical mistakes, the overtalking, the redundancy. So many things, but yet she explained them in a way that made me understand the why of it all.

I'm writing again. Actually, I'm rewriting a manuscript that I finished a while ago and got a request for, but didn't dare send in because I knew how much work it needed and had no idea how to go about starting the transitions. Now I do, and I'm excited about it.

For me, the answer to the question is; yes, to critique. But just be warned, you may have to weed through a lot of partners and groups and it may even take years before you finally find the one that will work. But once you do, it will all have been worth it.

So, what are your thoughts? Do you have a critique partner/group? Why or why not?

Thank you Brenna!
How about all of you out there? Any thoughts on critiquing? We'd love to hear from you. If you would like to do a guest blog for us or if you would like us to critique 200-500 words, please send us your pages to writethatnovel@gmail.com.

SUE and BECKY

Critiquing Techniques: Helping the New Writer

2011-08-08T06:43:00.000-07:00

Sometimes in critiquing, we have to walk a very thin line between helping or hindering the writer. Knowing exactly how to “talk” to a fellow writer, can be a problem, especially when dealing with a student writer who still has a fragile ego about their creations. Knowing just the right words to say takes time to learn and master.

We have also found that it makes a difference if you are critiquing eye-ball to eye-ball as opposed to online critiquing where all one sees is the words. When critiquing in person you get to see how the writer is reacting, and hear their reasons for what they’re writing so you can better judge what you need to say and how to say it.

Unfortunately beginning writers often have this false belief that all their words are golden and truly creative, and should never, ever be disturbed or changed. They’re spent months or years coming up with this idea and forming these sentences. They are fixed in stone!

One thing we have learned over the years, editing and critiquing can make for a better book. Beginning writers will eventually find what the rest of us have discovered--they are going to have to work with an editor. If the editor wants changes, and they are reasonable, you need to work on those changes. As a journalist, Becky learned from the first story she wrote in a newsroom—nothing is carved in stone. Things are going to be changed. That’s what editors do. Most writers we’ve talked to say that they learned a lot about fixing problems with their writing once they began working with their editors at a publishing house.

However it is also true that editors in today’s publishing world don’t have the time to work as much individually with authors. They expect the work they get to be as publishable as possible and they’re going to reject your manuscript if they think it needs too much work.

And that is where the critique partner and group can be so helpful. Journalists say they find it easier to work with an editor because, like Becky, they’ve been doing it for years in TV and newspaper newsroom. They got their work tossed back if it didn’t shine. Your critique partners and group are like that first editor. We’ve heard writers say time and time again, critiquing helped them learn to get away from thinking their first written words were perfect.

As teachers, it is our job to “gently” lead these beginning writers out of dream land and into reality ... at least the reality of how to write a great scene. The following is a scene written from a writing student from one of our on-line writing workshops and it needed help.

He had a great idea for the scene but the Point of View or POV was all over the place. Knowing that this particular student was a quick learner and that he thrived on suggestions as he was actively working on a long novel, we decided to give him a push.

Okay, a kick in the pants so to speak.

We told him the problem, made a POV suggestion and even went so far as to start him in the right direction. He did all the rest.

Here is the first draft with the problems in RED CAPS and what he sent in later.

****

The next Friday, after dinner, Stump was watching TV when the mutt, Oscar, raised his ears, and instantly bolted for the door. Then he yapped, “Hey Stump, somebody’s out there,” but Stump didn’t seem to understand. HERE WE HAVE A PROBLEM. IT SEEMS LIKE THE POV FIRST IS IN STUMP’S POV BECAUSE HE IDENTIFIES OSCAR AS A MUTT, BUT THEN WHEN “STUMP DIDN’T SEEM TO UNDERSTAND” WE SWITCH OVER TO THE DOG’S POV.

All of a sudden, a quadruple knock confirmed the canine’s observation. THIS SEEMS LIKE OMNISCIENT POV.

“See,” Oscar persisted, “I told you so. Don’t worry. I’ll tell him to go away.”

Oscar barely began to warn the outsider that he was asking for trouble when Stump undermined him, “Come in.”

The door knob jiggled.

Oscar screamed, “Holly Lassie crap, we’re being invaded.”

Then it happened, the intruder opened the door and stepped into their space. That was the final straw. NOT SURE WHOSE POV THIS IS. COULD GO EITHER WAY

Oscar vociferously yapped his disapproval, “Hey, this is our house. Get the hell out of here before we kick your ass.”

Suddenly Stump stood up, grabbed the dog’s collar, tugged him back a couple feet and advised, “Oscar. Get back, boy. It’s okay.” AND NOW IT SEEMS LIKE WE ARE IN STUMP’S POV…ETC, ETC... ALTERNATING BETWEEN THESE POV’S... not good...A SCENE IS MUCH STRONGER IF ONLY ONE POV IS USED...

Oscar lowered his voice slightly, but he wasn’t sure if the young human knew what he was doing. DOG’S POV Oscar sniffed the air, and watched cautiously as the intruder extended his hand toward Stump and introduced himself, “Hi, I’m Myles”.

Stump shook the man’s hand, “Hello.”

“Can I pet the dog?” the stranger asked.

“Sure,” said Stump.

Myles squatted and extend his hand toward Oscar’s head. Oscar decided to take a chance. He let it happen. It felt pretty good. Then the stranger addressed him. “Hi there, Oscar. How you doin’, huhboy?” he asked.

The four-legged one cautiously relaxed THIS IS CONFUSING—THE FOUR LEGGED ONE SEEMS TO BE OMNISCIENT POV AGAIN AND THEN WE GO BACK TO OSCAR’S POV and enjoyed the attention. It seemed safe. There was only one thing left to do, one final test.

Oscar waited for the big fella to stand up, then, it was time for the canine to make his move, to trade good sniffs of each other’s crotches. Oscar leaned in to do his part, but the taller one failed to seize the opportunity. Too bad for him.

A moment later it was all over. Oscar was satisfied with the introductions. He wagged his tail and welcomed the newcomer to the pack.

****

We sent the scene back to the student and suggested that he try it again, only this time in first person with the note that once you are in first person, you can ONLY write about what that person sees, hears, thinks, etc...

Here is his response... Hey guys, this was a fun and educational exercise. It was difficult at first, but I started to get the hang of it. I think I’m going to try it again, this time from the perspective of a cemetery plot.

Here is the same scene done in first person. But to give him a “heads-up” we did the first paragraph for him (the section in red) and then he did the rest.

****

Thump. Thump. Creak.

Something was on the front porch. I looked over at the boy. Nope. He hadn’t heard anything. He was still watching the TV.

But someone or something was out there. I could tell. I stood up and yelled my loudest.

“Oscar,” the boy shouted, “shut up. Your barking is...”

I yelled even louder as the thumps came closer. Stupid humans. They’re so dumb. They can’t hear anything.

The doorbell rang.

I knew it. A stranger.

I jumped up and ran to the door sliding the last few feet on the polished wooden floor.

THEN THE STUDENT DID THE REST...

Fortunately, Butch, my friend from next door had also heard the noise and he joined in. He must have been at his fence, probably on his hind legs trying to see who it was.

The kid stood up, headed my way. Finally. Our pack was united. Determined to do my part, I screamed so hard I almost lost my voice.

Then, all of a sudden, the stupid boy grabbed my collar, yanked me backwards, as if I was the one causing all the trouble, “Damn it Oscar, get back.”

Why the hell was he choking me? We’re supposed to be on the same team.

I had to overcome his stupidity. I tugged and yapped with all my might.

“Come in.”

The door knob jiggled.

Holly Lassie crap, we were being invaded.

Then it happened, the intruder opened the door and seized some of our space. That was the final straw. I went for him.

“Oscar. Get back, boy. It’s okay.”

The trespasser held steady. He must have sensed I meant business. I sniffed the air. Nothing unusual. My throat was throbbing.

“Oscar, GET BACK!”

I let the kid think he was the boss. I sat. I sniffed. I watched. I let my neighbor know I had it under control.

Then the intruder extended his hand toward the kid, “Hi, I’m Myles”.

“Hello.”

“Can I pet the dog?”

“Sure. He’s really a good dog. He won’t bite.”

The hell I won’t. But first I had to check this human out.

The stranger squatted to my level. I got a good look at him. Seemed friendly enough. His hand came slowly at me. A good sign.

Then it happened, he scratched that spot right behind my left ear that I can never quite get. He was off to a great start.

“Hi there, Oscar. How you doin’, huhboy?”

I like it when they talk to me, but that’s not enough. I flopped on my side, spread my legs, to see if he knew what I really wanted. He did. He scratched my belly. I had him right where I wanted him. I wagged my tail to let him know he was on the right track. There was one final test, the big one.

I waited for the big fella to stand up, then, I wanted to find out if he would go “all the way,” sniff each other’s crotches? I leaned in. Took a good whiff. Humans smell so weird. Kinda like flowers.

It was his turn. I was proud of how I smelled down there. I waited. I waited. I waited. But he took too long. Must have been playing “hard to get”. Too bad for him. Maybe next time.

I decided not to hold his apprehension against him. I was satisfied. Wagged my tail. Welcomed him into the pack.

I wondered if he knows how to play catch.

****

This is written quite well, this time around. And it provides a good lesson for all of us. Sometimes turning a scene in a new direction can liven things up.

So, bottom line, sometimes we just need, all of us, a change of direction ... a kick in the pants that says, if that didn’t work, try this idea. And if you're a new writer, don't be afraid of trying something new and changing your words or work. Listening to criticism from your critique partner or group can only help when the time comes to work with an editor.

Critiquing in the Summer

2011-07-07T08:44:00.000-07:00

Hi everyone, this month we’re looking at how we make it through the summer to get our writing done and our critiquing. It can be tough to find time to critique when the kids are home for the summer. Here is how we both handle those lazy, crazy, wonderful days of summer.

Sue’s Comments

Ah, summer time. The kids are out of school, family visits, vacations are being planned and time to write and critique not only your own work but the people in your critique group has gone out the window.

So what to do. Well, in one of our critique groups we simply stopped meeting for our regular breakfast once a week and decided to critique on-line. But that hasn’t really worked out too well, as there is no “deadline” of when to send our stuff to the group.

We could critique and edit our own work either early in the morning or late at night when the family is sleeping and the house quiet...but that doesn’t work too well either, as by nighttime, we’re usually too tired and early morning work requires a lot of discipline...

Discipline to set the darn alarm, get up without waking anyone up, make the coffee and actually settle down at the computer.

So here is our list of how to critique and survive the summer:

1 - Don’t give up your group. Go on line if you have to or exchange morning meetings at different members’ homes and all pitch in for a baby sitter if needed.

2 - At the “last” meeting before the summer starts, have everyone bring their calendars... we don’t mean those little ones in your check book or small notebook… but the big ones you live and die by. Map out the meetings and get everyone to agree on the dates. If you plan the whole summer you can then work around your meetings instead of the other way around.

3 - Learn to critique in other places. Several of my favorite places are the doctor’s or dentist’s offices, the dog park, before dinner when the cooking is under control, or even at the pool while watching the kids’ swimming meet.

It’s important to think of yourself as a writer and be disciplined. It’s the discipline that will get you published. Long ago when I was an editor of a national magazine and worked with beginning writers, I learned that to get published it is better to work with a writer who can get their work in on time and is disciplined to understand edits and editorial comments than to work with a supremely talented writer who wanted to do it only her way. Grin. Slow and steady is the name of the game or so said the tortoise.

Becky’s Comments

For me, summer is actually a good time to get caught up. It’s fun to get out of the house, but I always take a notebook or laptop with me, even if it’s just to eat lunch out or have coffee. I’ve heard best selling mystery writers Harlan Coben and John Sandford talk about how they regularly write over dinners out or at coffee shops and I’ve been doing the same thing for years. Those outside venues can be a good way to break up the normal sit-at-the-office-desk routine.

Yes, there can be a problem with discipline in the summer. For instance, things seem to move slower, whether you’re waiting to hear from publishers or trying to get your own work done. It’s harder to concentrate when there is the daily lure of getting outside to do all the things you can’t do during the winter.

When it comes to the critique process, I regularly work with an online critique group and the way we handle the summer months is by giving members a pass during the weeks when they are on vacation. If they want to critique while they’re out of town—which I normally do—they can, but they can also skip sending material or skip critiquing for that one go-round.

We have five people in our group and we have set up certain days every month to send in our material—the 15^th and the 30^th. On those dates we email 10-15 pages of our work and then everyone has one week to finish the critique and send it back. This way we have a definite deadline that everyone needs to meet on a regular basis. Keeping that sort of schedule and a fixed deadline can keep the critique group working, even during the summer.

Deadlines are an important part of critiquing. Knowing that you have a certain number of pages to finish by the next week or in two weeks can help keep your productivity up. If you’re too busy to get your group or partner’s pages read, then let the group know you need to skip a round. It’s usually easier to work that out than to stress over the pages or drop the group all together.

As I mentioned, when I go on vacation, I still continue to critique. Since I got my first laptop 14 years ago, I have never traveled without my laptop, even if it’s for a couple of days only. Sitting in airports is a good time to work on edits or critiques, and there is all that time while you’re in the air with nothing to do.

There are always times and places to critique, so enjoy the summer, but don’t lose sight of your writing goals!

We would love to hear from all of you as to how you manage editing and critiquing in the summer months. Drop us a note at writethatnovel@gmail.com and let us know how you do it...

This month’s critique

Red CAPS are from Sue... while blue CAPS are from Becky

Here is the scene.

Grace strolled out of the bathroom into the bedroom clothed in a drift of L’air du Temps and nothing else. Anointed between her thighs, her breasts and at the pulse in her throat, she went up to the bed and leaned over Simon.

He lay on his back, asleep, his spiky black eyelashes fanned out on his cheeks. They could have a daughter with those same astonishing eyelashes. She stood quietly waiting for her perfume to reach out to him. He stirred. She bent closer and whispered, “Simon, wake up.”

His eyes, slitted against the light, widened at the sight of her breasts swaying above his face. He raised a hand and caressed her.

“What’s that perfume?” he asked. “Something new? I don’t remember--”

“Shh.” She tossed the sheet aside and straddled him. Ignoring the stubble on his chin, she kissed his lips, and when he was ready, eased her way slowly into the connection they both loved.

Later, spread-eagled on his back with Grace lying curled against him, he glanced over at her and grinned. “That was quite an eye opener. Better than coffee.”

“Speaking of which.”

“Not so soon. I’m ready for an encore.”

Good, she thought. Good. Today’s the day. As he lifted himself over her and began anew, a question leapt into her mind. What would he say when she told him she’d stopped taking the pill?

# # #

Afterward, in the townhouse kitchen with its stainless steel countertops and the high-tech appliances Simon had chosen, she measured out coffee grounds, sprinkled them into the basket and carefully poured four cups of water into the Cuisinart. She hated wasting water, and they rarely drank more than two cups apiece.

From the refrigerator, she took out orange juice, bagels, and cream cheese for a quick breakfast. Even so, they’d be late getting to the office. But she didn’t regret a minute, and as she worked, a robe sashed loosely around her waist, her copper hair held high with a clip, she let her mind replay the morning.

Simon knew how to make love to a woman. He knew all the right buttons to press, all the secret places that made her want to scream. He brought out everything she had to give—every time. What more could she ask of him?

A child.

The bagel popped up. She rescued it from the toaster and slathered it with cream cheese. But whenever she started talking of babies and her longing for one, Simon changed the subject. And he wouldn’t tell her why. Lord knows, she’d asked why often enough. Too often.

SUE’S COMMENTS

A FAIRLY WELL-DONE SCENE...BUT IT NEEDS MUCH MORE EMOTION...THIS IS A BIGGIE...BEING OFF THE PILL...SO I NEED MORE EMOTIONAL REACTIONS AND INTERNAL REACTIONS FROM HER.

A FEW WORD CHOICES... DELETE A FEW TAGS AND WATCH THE TENSES... BE CAREFUL WITH THE CHOREOGRAPHY.. AND NEED ANSWERS TO SEVERAL QUESTIONS...

OTHER WISE, A NICE SCENE. SUE

Grace strolled out of the bathroom into the bedroom clothed in a NOT SURE THIS WORD WORKS... I KNOW YOU MEAN SURROUNDING HER, BUT DRIFT DOESN’T DO IT.. of L’air du Temps and nothing else. ALSO DOESN’T WORK, AT LEAST FOR ME.... HOW ABOUT “A DAB” between her thighs, her breasts and at the pulse in her throat, she went up to the bed and leaned over Simon. NEED A DESCRIPTION HERE... SATIN SHEETS, CALIFORNIA SIZE BED, ETC.

He lay on his back, asleep, his spiky black eyelashes fanned out on his cheeks. They could have a daughter with those same astonishing eyelashes. AND WHAT... SHE WOULD BE GORGEOUS She stood I THOUGHT SHE WAS LEANING OVER HIM??? quietly waiting for her perfume to reach out AND SURROUND HIM. He stirred. She bent closer and whispered, “Simon, wake up.”

His eyes, slitted against the light, widened at the sight of her breasts swaying above his face. SO NOW SHE’S BACK TO LEANING He raised a hand and caressed her. WHAT PART OF HER???? GRIN...

“What’s that perfume?” YOU DON’T NEED THE TAG AS WE KNOW IT HAS TO BE SIMON THAT IS TALKING...“Something new? I don’t remember--”

“Shh.” She tossed the sheet aside OKAY...IF THE SHEET IS THERE, WHERE IS IT??? and straddled him. Ignoring the stubble on his chin, she kissed his lips, and when he was ready, eased her way slowly into the connection they both loved. NICE

Later, spread-eagled on his back with Grace lying curled against HIS SIDE, he grinned. “That was quite an eye opener. Better than coffee.”

“Speaking of which.”

“Not so soon. I’m ready for an encore.”

Good, she thought. Good. NEED A MORE EXCITING WORD...GOOD IS A BIT MILD FOR WHAT SHE IS DOING... Today’s the day.

(NEW PARAGRAPH) As he TURNED AND lifted himself over her and began anew, a question leapt into her mind. What would he say when she told him she’d stopped taking the pill?

# # # THESE NEED TO GO IN THE MIDDLE OF THE LINE

# # #

Afterward, in the townhouse kitchen with its stainless steel countertops and the high-tech appliances Simon had chosen, she measured out coffee grounds,(DELETE-sprinkled them) into the basket and carefully poured four cups of water into the Cuisinart. She hated wasting water, and they rarely drank more than two cups apiece. SO WHY DID SHE MAKE FOUR CUPS????

A child.

YES, A CHILD... THIS IS QUITE AN EMOTIONAL MOMENT... NEED TO PLAY IT UP MORE...

They’D both agreed to wait before starting a family—to get to know each other better, enjoy a carefree life for a while, ski, sail, work on their careers, honeymoon. But playtime was over. Her biological clock was ticking. Not fast, maybe, but ticking nonetheless. MAYBE A BIT MORE HERE... DO WE KNOW HER AGE AT THIS POINT IN THE STORY???

The bagel popped. She rescued it from the toaster and slathered it with cream cheese. But whenever she TALKED of babies and her longing for one, Simon changed the subject. And he wouldn’t tell her why. Lord knows, she’d asked why often enough. Too often.

BECKY’S COMMENTS

THIS IS A GOOD PASSAGE THAT PROVIDES SOME GOOD INSIGHT INTO THE HEROINE. IT SHOWS WONDERFUL FLASHES OF EMOTION, BUT WE DEFINITELY NEED MORE. SHE IS MAKING SOME BIG INTERNAL DECISIONS HERE AND THEY SHOULD BE SHARED WITH THE READER.

Grace strolled out of the bathroom into the bedroom clothed ONLY in a CLOUD (DELETE drift ) of L’air du Temps and nothing else. Anointed between her thighs, her breasts and at the pulse in her throat, (THIS READS LIKE A DANGLING MODIFIER AND SOUNDS CONFUSING SO IT SHOULD PROBABLY BE CHANGED OR CLARIFIED.—PERHAPS SAY ANOINTED WITH THE PERFUME BETWEEN…ETC) she went up to the bed and leaned over Simon.

He lay on his back, asleep, his spiky black eyelashes fanned out on his cheeks.

(NEW PARAGRAPH BECAUSE WE ARE GETTING HER REACTION TO HIM.) They could have a daughter with those same astonishing eyelashes. She stood quietly waiting for her perfume to reach out to him. (HOW LONG? SECONDS? MINUTES?) He stirred. She bent closer and whispered, “Simon, wake up.”

His eyes, slitted against the light, widened at the sight of her breasts swaying above his face. He raised a hand and caressed her. (WHERE? WHAT PART OF HER DOES HE TOUCH?)

HE INHALED. “What’s that perfume? (DELETE ” He asked.) Something new? I don’t remember--”

“Shh.” She tossed the sheet aside and straddled him. Ignoring the stubble on his chin, she kissed his lips, and when he was ready, eased her way slowly into the connection they both loved.

Later, spread-eagled on his back with Grace lying curled against him, he glanced over at her and grinned. “That was quite an eye opener. Better than coffee.”

“Speaking of which.” (DOES SHE MOVE HERE? PERHAPS START TO SIT UP?)

“Not so soon. I’m ready for an encore.” (ANY PHYSICAL REACTION FROM HIM?)

Good, she thought. Good. Today’s the day. (ITALICIZE HER DIRECT THOUGHTS) As he lifted himself over her and began anew, a question leapt into her mind. What would he say when she told him she’d stopped taking the pill?

# # #

Afterward, in the townhouse kitchen with its stainless steel countertops and the high-tech appliances Simon had chosen, she measured (DELETE-out) coffee grounds, sprinkled them into the basket and carefully poured four cups of water into the Cuisinart. She hated wasting water, and they rarely drank more than two cups apiece.

From the refrigerator, she took out orange juice, bagels, and cream cheese for a quick breakfast. (DELETE Even so) They’d be late getting to the office, but she didn’t regret a minute. (DELETE- and) As she worked, a robe TIED (DELETE-sashed) loosely around her waist, her copper hair held high with a clip, she let her mind replay the morning.

Simon knew how to make love to a woman. He knew all the right buttons to press, all the secret places that made her want to scream. (MADE HER WANT TO SCREAM? OR DID HE MAKE HER SCREAM?) He brought out everything she had to give—every time. What more could she ask of him?

A child.

They both agreed to wait before starting a family—to get to know each other better, enjoy a carefree life for a while, ski, sail, work on their careers, honeymoon. But playtime was over. Her biological clock was ticking. Not fast, maybe, but ticking nonetheless. (MAYBE ADD SOMETHING HERE ABOUT SHE FELT SHE NEEDED TO GET MOVING ON THE BABY NOW – ADD SOME OF HER FEELINGS TOO SINCE SHE IS IN ESSENCE BETRAYING THEIR AGREEMENT)

The bagel popped up. She rescued it from the toaster and slathered it with cream cheese. (DELETE-But) Whenever she started talking of babies and her longing for one, Simon changed the subject. And he wouldn’t tell her why. Lord knows, she’d asked why often enough. Too often. (AGAIN, WE NEED MORE OF HER FEELINGS)

Thanks to this month's writer. We'll be sending you a story board chart. If you would like to have a few paragraphs critiqued on our blog, or if there is work you'd like us to look over, please email us at writethatnovel@gmail.com and if your piece is used on our blog we'll send you a storyboard to use in your plotting.

We'd also like to hear more on how you critique in the summer or during busy times, so please leave a comment.

The Benefits of Brainstorming

2011-06-06T05:58:00.000-07:00

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.

*******************************************************************

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.

****************************************************************

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.

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. )

******************************************************************

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

We welcome your thoughts and comments on our blog and on our critique. We’d also be happy to critique your work. Just mail it to writethatnovel@gmail.com.

The Point of View Dilemma

2011-05-03T07:54:00.000-07:00

This month on our critique blog we thought we would talk about POV and in particular the use of the First Person. POV or Point Of View is the voice of the person telling the story. Here’s a quick review:

• First Person

• I said

• The sun sank below the horizon. I’d never seen such vivid colors before and wondered why I didn’t come to the beach more often.

• Second Person

• You said

• You need to come to the beach more often as the sunsets are magnificent.

• Third Person

• S/he said

• As she watched the sun slowly sink below the horizon, she wondered why she hadn’t come to the beach more often.

• Omniscient

• God/author said

• The sun sank slowly below the horizon. The girl watching looking pleased with the view as if she had never seen a sunset before.

Using the first person narrative is a familiar tool. It has been around as a popular literary device for a long time. Think back -- Charles Dickens used it in such novels as “David Copperfield,” Edgar Allen Poe told most of his mysterious tales in first person. Harper Lee does a great job of describing a young girl’s life in the book, “To Kill a Mockingbird.”

Best selling author Harlan Coben often uses first person to make his suspense novels even more intense. First person has long been a a staple for mystery writers. Raymond Chandler told his Philip Marlowe stories in first person and currently, mystery authors Sue Grafton, and Janet Evanovich tell their stories in first person. Robert Crais and Jonathan Kellerman use first person for their sleuths, but third person for sidekicks.

First person can be very useful for mystery and suspense because the story is only seen through one person’s eyes. That mean that the reader only learns what the hero/heroine knows and sees what that person witnesses. All thoughts come from only one person. That can be useful when the writer doesn’t want the reader to know too much, or to figure things out along with the hero/heroine. It can also make the main character come alive, because the writer is literally living through that person’s life.

On the other hand, it can be limiting too. If the reader doesn’t like the main character or if the main character is not strong enough to sustain the story, the reader is going to be turned off.

Technically, one of the biggest problems facing writers when you use first person, is in fact, first person. Since there is only one point of view, everything has to be in that person’s mind. So there are automatically a lot of “I’s”...

As a person doing a critique of someone’s work in first person you need to watch for the overuse of “I.” Sometimes an author will be unaware of doing that. One good way to pick out too many is to read the passage aloud. After a while you will realize how often you’ve heard “I” and it will make it easier to look for.

As a critique partner or in a group, it can be helpful to look for ways to change a sentence to get rid of the extra “I.” Instead of saying “I saw,” the passage might stand alone. After all the story is being told by the main character so it stands to reason that what he/she saw is what is being described.

Instead of I saw a tall blonde woman emerge from the car.

Try, A tall blonde woman slid from the car.

Instead of I heard the phone ring. No, No! The phone rang.

These may seem like obvious problems, but too often they get forgotten or ignored by a writer. This is the sort of situation where a good critique partner can help out!

Throughout your critique, though, it is critical to keep the author’s meaning and to keep the author’s—or in this case—the character’s voice. The author will be telling that character’s story through that character’s voice. It’s the job of a good critique partner not to try to change that voice, especially when you’re dealing with first person.

As you can see in the following piece there are too many I’s...so the problem for the critique is to figure out how to eliminate some of them, yet still keep the POV in the voice of the one storyteller. We’ve marked the I’s with pale yellow.

“You need to die.”

I stopped clearing the table and glanced over at the next one. My station. Great. Another weirdo. Full moon coming around the corner. There was a little man sitting alone.

The baseball game on the large screen televisions was loud, so I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly.

“Excuse me?” I asked, staring into the oddest green-blue eyes. Must be contacts.

He smiled benignly. He almost looked amused. Almost.

I checked his ears, perhaps a cell phone? Bluetooth? My eyes widened. Those were some seriously large ears. Very large. Bigger than Mr. Spock’s for sure.

His smile faded, his glaze, glaring.

“Were you speaking to me?” I set my tray down, stepped over to his table and pulled my order pad and pen from my apron pocket.

“You need to die.” The little fella spoke again. He was wearing a fedora, which I had to admit did look good on him, and the smallest trench coat I’d ever seen.

I frowned. Why was he wearing a coat? It was summer. Baseball season. I didn’t think he could hide a weapon in those tiny pockets, but gathered my courage.

“Well, we all die at some point, don’t we?” Positioning my pen, I asked, “So, what can I get you? The ‘burgers are mouth watering and the shakes are to die for…” I pulled up short. What was it with this dying thing? I collected my thoughts, this guy was rattling me after all. “And the nachos are really…”

“I need a demon dream slayer.”

I paused, and looked up from my writing. “You want what? A demon dream slayer? I’m not familiar with that. Is it a drink? If you tell me what is in it, I’m sure our bar guy can make it for you.”

I expected him to explain but he just returned my look.

Growing irritated, I took a deep breath and smiled. “Well,” I stepped back to see him sitting in the chair, swinging both his legs. His little legs didn’t even touch the nutshell covered floor. I squinted. And those little legs were attached in tiny little webbed feet. Webbed? Feet?

“You aren’t wearing shoes.” I told him, looking up. “Did you not read the sign on the door? No shirt, no shoes, no service. That’s the rules buddy.”

He smiled and wiggled in toes. “The sign in not for me.”

His voice was beginning to slur a bit. I looked at him. I mean really looked at him. His color was kind of gray green and I wondered if he was okay. I wasn’t a nurse and didn’t know anything about medicine, but I watched ‘ER’ on TV.

“Are you alright? You want something from the bar or grill? Maybe call an ambulance or some oxygen?” I was getting impatient and wanted to get away from this guy.

“Siri! Table two!” My boss, Tom yelled from behind the bar.

I waved my hand letting him know I heard. My customers were getting rowdy and hungry. I needed to finish with this fella and move on. I was tired. I had a day off tomorrow and wanted to sleep for a month.

“I can help you with that.” The little gray man said.

In this scene, there are 33 “I’s.” Two don’t count as they are said by the other person.

So, about 15% of the story, so far, is centered around the story teller who we know nothing about. Is it a male or a female? Age? We can’t tell. Well maybe we can, as the boss calls her “Siri,” but to my mind this could also be a name from a foreign country that could be for either sex. So, is the story teller young, old, tall, short, fat, skinny or even a human? We can’t tell.

Let’s see if we can get rid a few of the “I’s” and also learn a bit more about the storyteller.

Sue’s comments are in RED and Becky’s thoughts are in BLUE

“You need to die.”

The comment came from a tiny man sitting next to the restaurant’s window as I stopped to pick up a tip from a vacant table. The full harvest moon gave him an eerie appearance and the blaring baseball game on the large screen television muffled his words.

“Excuse me?” I stared into the oddest green-blue eyes.

He smiled benignly.

Almost amused.

Almost.

Was his cell phone set on speaker? Bluetooth? Is that what I heard? Looking around, no phone.

But large ears. Very large. Bigger than Mr. Spock’s.

His smile faded, his glaze, glaring.

“Were you speaking to me?” Setting my tray down, I stepped over to his table and pulled my order pad and pen from my blue checkered apron pocket.

“You need to die.” Strong harsh words.

Terrible words aimed directly at me. Was he a crazy? Did he really mean me harm? Stepping back a bit, I took a good look at him.

He had on a green fedora slightly pushed to the side and a dark brown trench coat. Was he a midget? No wait, they call themselves “little people.”

Why was he wearing so many clothes? It was summer. Did he have a gun or a knife hidden beneath that coat? A tinge of fear crawled through me.

Gathering my courage I smiled.

“Well, we all die at some point, don’t we? So, what would you like? The burgers are mouth watering and the shakes are to die for…”

Stop.

Do not use words that mentioned dying.

This guy was rattling me. “And the nachos are really…”

“I need a demon dream slayer,” his low voice sent more shivers through my body.

“You want what? A demon dream slayer? Not familiar with that. Is it a drink? If you tell me what is in it, our bar guy can make it for you.”

Waiting for him to explain he just returned my look and turned in the chair.

Taking a deep breath I saw that his legs didn’t touch the nutshell covered floor. And those little legs were attached to tiny webbed feet. Webbed? Feet?

Confusion swept through my mind. Who was this guy? An escapee from the circus?

“You aren’t wearing shoes. Did you not read the sign on the door? No shirt, no shoes, no service. That’s the rules buddy.”

He smiled and wiggled in toes. “The sign in not for me.”

His voice began to slur, his words running together.

Drunk.

Intoxicated.

His face was gray green. Was he going to throw-up?

I took another step back. “Are you alright? You want something from the bar or grill? Maybe an ambulance or some oxygen?”

I was tired.

And this creature was almost more than I could handle.

Being the only woman waitress in an Irish bar took all my energy.

Tomorrow was my day off and I wanted to sleep for a month.

“I can help you with that.” The little gray man said.

Okay we are down to eight I’s...so from 33, subtracting the 8 we now have, we’ve gotten rid of 25.... And we now know the storyteller is a woman, a tired waitress in an Irish pub and the time period is the fall of the year.

Here is also an example of why it pays to have your work critiqued by several people. Some partners will look at a story one way, while the other partner might zero in on different problems.

“You need to die.”

I stopped clearing the table and glanced over at the next one. My station. Great. Another weirdo. Full moon coming around the corner. A little man sat alone.

The baseball game on the large screen television was loud. Maybe I hadn’t heard him correctly.

“Excuse me?”

He smiled benignly. His green blue eyes were an odd shade. Must be contacts.

He almost looked amused. Almost.

I checked his ears for [delete perhaps] a cell phone. Bluetooth? My eyes widened. Those were some seriously large ears. Very large. Bigger than Mr. Spock’s for sure.

His smile faded, his glaze, glaring.

“Were you speaking to me?” I set my tray down, stepped over to his table and pulled order pad and pen from my apron pocket.

“You need to die,” The little fella repeated. He was wearing a fedora, which [delete I have to admit ] did look good on him and the smallest trench coat I’d ever seen.

[Delete -I frowned.] Why was he wearing a coat? It was summer. Baseball season. Could he have a weapon in those tiny pockets? No, too small.

“Well, we all die at some point, don’t we?” I gathered my courage and postioned my pen. “So, what can I get you? The ‘burgers are mouth watering and the shakes are to die for…” [DeleteI pulled up short] No, that wasn’t right. What was it with this dying thing?[delete I collected my thoughts,] This guy was rattling me after all. “And the nachos are really…”

“I need a demon dream slayer.”

He returned my look without explaining.

Growing irritated, I took a deep breath, smiled and took a step back to see him sitting in the chair, swinging both his legs. His little legs didn’t even touch the nutshell covered floor. Huh? Those little legs were attached in tiny little webbed feet. Webbed? Feet?

“You aren’t wearing shoes. Did you not read the sign on the door? No shirt, no shoes, no service. That’s the rules, buddy.”

He smiled and wiggled his toes. “The sign is not for me.”

His voice was beginning to slur a bit. I looked at him. Really looked at him. His color was kind of gray green. Was he okay? I wasn’t a nurse and didn’t know anything about medicine, but watched ‘ER’ was a favorite TV program.

“Are you alright? You want something from the bar or grill? Maybe call an ambulance or some oxygen?” Impatience raced through me. Time to get away from this guy.

“Siri! Table two!” My boss, Tom yelled from behind the bar.

I waved my hand letting him know I’d heard. My customers were getting rowdy and hungry. My head ached almost as bad as my feet. Exhaustion. I had a day off tomorrow and wanted to sleep for a month.

“I can help you with that,” the little gray man said.

In both cases we’ve managed to get rid of a good portion of those “I’s” The question is - does it read any better? Think about how you might change it.

We welcome your comments and questions on this critique or critiquing in general. Is there anything in particular you would like us to discuss about critique groups and partners?

The Opening Lines

2011-04-06T09:32:00.000-07:00

Welcome to our blog on critiques and critiquing. In our last blog we looked at some of the reasons for having a critique partner or group. This time around we’re going to look at how a critique partner can help you get off to the right start on your story and how you can help your critique partners get off to a lively beginning.

They say that the opening paragraph, whether it be one word, one sentence, or one paragraph is the most important part of the novel. Why is this so? What do those few words do?

First and foremost those opening lines need to grab the reader’s attention. Often people standing at a book stand or in a book store might read the back cover, but they also look at the opening page – the opening line.

I knew opening that red door would destroy my life. This is how mystery author Harlan Coben begins his bestseller, Caught.

Benita Sanchez was almost as afraid of running into a rattlesnake as she was U.S. Customs and Border Protection. That is the beginning of bestselling author, Brenda Novak’s romantic suspense book, Body Heat.

In both these cases, you want to keep on reading. You want to find out what is behind that red door and you want to find out what happens to Benita and whether she encounters that snake or the border patrol.

What else can those opening lines do?

• set the genre

• tell the reader the tone of the book, happy, sad, a mystery, an action story, etc...

• convey your voice - an invisible thing that the reader will either love or close the book in haste saying, “oh, that’s not what I like to read.”

• set the time and setting of the story

• introduce the main character

• bring forward the problem

But who is this mysterious “they” we mentioned at the beginning?

At the far end of the “they” is the agent, the editor or the publisher.

At the other end of the “they” is your critique group.

As a fresh set of eyes they can provide help for your opening paragraphs. They can let you know whether the beginning grabs them or leaves them cold. They can provide ideas for sharpening the beginning or making it a real grabber.

Because these are people who often read your work they can also tell you whether or not you’re staying true to your voice, or they can give you an idea for a better beginning that stays true to your voice.

In this critique piece we will concentrate on eliminating or changing some of the more “ordinary” words while making the action move faster.

ORIGINAL (word count 229)

The soup hung in the air, suspended, before finally falling in to the man’s lap. There was a long moment of silence, and then, with a gasp, Mr. Quintana jumped to his feet.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Quintana.” Beth couldn’t summon the strength to look up into his face. So, instead, she continued to look at the soup that was staining his classic Armani suit.

“Beth! Mr. Quintana!” Larry, the manager of the restaurant, rushed up to the table. “What’s happened here?” His eyes dropped to the growing stain on Mr. Quintana’s suit and then immediately went to the empty bowl that Beth still held in her hand. He glanced up to her red face and his eyes grew hard with accusation. “Beth, how many times...”

I will have to change my clothes. Please seat Mr. Carkner when he arrives and tell him I was called away. I will be back in a few minutes.” the owner’s voice was now more contained and precise. Its usual tone gave Beth the shivers.

“Yes, of course, sir.” Larry had on his usual obsequious look that also gave Beth the shivers.

The owner of the five-star-hotel and the restaurant that Beth worked at, turned and started to walk away. Suddenly, he stopped and turned back to the two people standing by the white-clothed table.

“Oh, and, Larry...fire her.”

CRITIQUE (Sue’s thoughts are in RED and Becky’s are in BLUE)

The soup hung in the air, so at first we thought this might be a sci-fi story, suspended (I like the idea of the soup seeming to hang or be suspended since they convey that split instant when time seems to stand still, but both mean the same thing, so I’d suggest using one or the other), before finally don’t need this word, as it slows the action falling need a better word...something with more action involved...maybe tumbled, plunged, dove, etc in -should be on) to the man’s lap.

Start a new paragraph.

There was a long moment of silence, and then, with a gasp, Mr.Why not use his first name here? Quintana jumped to his feet. Gasp is a minor word ...I would think, if he is to be the hero in this story, he would use a more forceful expression

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Quintana.” Beth couldn’t summon the strength-word choice, it’s not her strength that has her looking away but rather her embarrassment, maybe say nerve- to look up into his-delete and add the restaurant owner’s face.why? was she embarrassed, ashamed..how did she feel, what is on her face. her motions, did she jump back? need some physical action.. (had she ever done this before? Is she afraid she’s going to lose her job?).So, instead, she continued to look stare at the (color?)soup that was stained his classic-word choice I’d give this another color since when you think of Armani you think classic but think of cream of mushroom soup on a black suit or tomato soup on a gray suit) Armani suit. nice...we now know he wears expensive clothes so he is probably rich. It’s always important to say “good” things in a critique along with the suggestions

“Beth! Mr. Quintana!” Larry, the manager of the restaurant, rushed up-delete, not necessary to the table. Since he has a name we might want to know just a bit about how he looks...fat, short, etc.“What’s happened here?” His eyes dropped to the growing stain on Mr. Quintana’s suit and then immediately went to the empty bowl that (take out the “that”...it’s not needed)Beth still held in her hand. maybe a word or two about her..is her hand shaking? He glanced up to her red face and his eyes grew hard with accusation. “Beth, how many times...” how does his voice sound?

(is this the only reaction the owner of the restaurant will have to having one of his waitresses dump soup on him? And if he is the owner, wouldn’t that make it all the worse for Beth? We need to establish who Mr. Quintana is earlier and then I’d like to know the look on his face here, disgust? Does he entirely ignore her and turn to Larry?)

“I will most men will use a contraction here...I’ll have to change my clothes. Please I would take out the please...make him with more authority seat Mr. Carkner when he arrives. and get rid of the and...make his sentences shorter tell him I was called away. I will (I’ll) be back in a few minutes.” The owner’s okay...big jump here.. how do we know he is the owner...Larry, up above should have said something. voice (was now more contained and...this is not needed) precise.

Its usual tone gave Beth the shivers. how about... Beth shivered. (is he using his usual tone? Or is he angry and it frightens her even more?)

“Yes, of course, sir.” Larry had on his usual obsequious (big word...will everyone know what this means?) look that also gave Beth the shivers. (well we already know she has the shivers.. so either the shivers got much, much worse or another emotion came into play)

The owner (I think using his name here is better) of the five-star-hotel and the restaurant that Beth worked at, (turned and started to walk away. let’s make it simple...and simply use “stood” as this way you don’t have to use “turned” twice.) Suddenly, he stopped and turned-I’d use a stronger verb here, maybe whirled back to the two people standing by the white-clothed table.

“Oh, and, Larry...fire her.” Nice...

Very nice hook to end the scene

REVISED (word count 193) See if you think it moves along better...

The soup hung in the air before landing on the man’s lap.

There was a long moment of silence, and then, with a gruff curse, Juan Quintana, the owner of the five-star hotel, leaped to his feet.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Quintana.” Beth, who had just attempted to serve the soup, cringed as the cream of mushroom soup stain spread across his dark gray Armani suit. How could she be so clumsy? Was this going to cost her this waitress job?

“Beth! Mr. Quintana!” Larry, the manager of the restaurant, rushed to the table, his thin face a mask of worry. “What’s happened here?” He took in the growing stain on Mr. Quintana’s pants and the empty bowl Beth still held in her shaking hand.

“Beth, how many times...”

She fumbled with the soup bowl and began cleaning the table.

“I’ll have to change my clothes. Seat my guest when he arrives. Tell him I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Yes, of course, sir.”

The owner’s authoritarian tone gave Beth the shivers, but Larry's barely disguised anger sent waves of fear rushing through her.

Juan started for the door. Suddenly, he stopped and whirled back to the two people standing by the white-clothed table.

“Oh, and, Larry...fire her.”

*****

See the difference? The new version is tighter and moves more quickly. A good critique should help you change your story for the better. Even if all it does is give you more to think about, it can help you to eliminate extra words or to perhaps search for better and a more meaningful way of saying something.

We hope this month's exercise in critiquing has been helpful. We'll continue to look at the critique process and we'll be critiquing a new piece next month. If you have a few paragraphs you'd like to have us critique or if you have questions about critiques or critique partners, please send them to us at writethatnovel@gmail.com.

And as always, we welcome any sort of comments on our blog.

Sue and Becky

The Importance of Critiquing

2011-02-21T06:39:00.000-08:00

When we first considered the idea of doing a regular blog we knew we wanted to present something special and unique, hopefully a blog unlike what others were doing. Because we enjoy working with writers so much we wanted to provide a blog that would do more than simply inform or promote our books and writing tools, it should help writers on a regular basis.

To do that, we went back to something that is near and dear to both of us—the art of critiquing and being a good critique partner. Our writing friendship began as a result of weekly meetings over breakfast with several others, reading each other’s works and critiquing them and eventually evolved into a working/writing partnership that included writing a non-fiction writing book, giving lectures, and teaching online classes.

Back in those days when we were doing regular weekly critiques, there were four of us and we found as we went along that each of us provided something a little different to the others. While one was a stickler for details such as “he’s standing up now, when did that happen?” Another thrived on ways to use emotion to build motivation and conflict and always had suggestions for writing emotions and improving conflict. Another was good at copy editing and we all provided different ideas when we wanted to brainstorm. As a result of our critiques, our writing became stronger for all of us.

We’ll look at what goes into becoming good critique partners in future discussions but the benefits of critique grew as the two of us began teaching classes on a regular basis. We have often heard from our students that they were helped by our critiques of their class writing assignments. Aspiring writers enjoy having others look at their work and getting suggestions. As a result, when we considered what sort of a blog we wanted to do, the entire concept of critiquing was a simple decision. In our blog we will look at some of the basics of critique and, most important we will provide critiques for writers who want their work examined.

In our last newsletter we called for submissions to critique and we received several we will use in future blogs.

Why critique?

The critique process can seem frightening to someone who has never participated in it.

• What do I want to accomplish by letting someone else see what I have written?

• How will others view my writing?

• What if I don’t agree with what they say?

But there are some very good things that can happen. There are two types of critiquing that a group or a partner can help you with.

• simple editing

• overall editing

Simple editing consists of editing assistance. For instance a fresh pair of eyes can spot those typos you might have missed or that spell check misunderstood. Their instead of there or it’s instead of its may not get picked up by your word processing program. Sometimes it pays to have someone else do your copy editing. It may be as simple as leaving off quotation marks or marking paragraphs wrong, but this can go a long way toward helping you turn in a clean manuscript. Proper grammar, comma placement, these are tiny elements, but a good editor is going to pick them up and may not want to buy a manuscript that needs a lot of work.

Some critique partners don’t provide that, which is why it’s good to have more than one person look at your work. You’ll find, as we did, that some are gifted in different ways.

Overall editing consists is much more complex and involves the entire work. We prefer to offer overall critiques and editing because these can be most helpful to writers. That includes:

• looking at the overall style of the writing

• looking at the “meaning” of the words or phrases/word choices

• watching for the choreography of the characters

• watching for dialogue vs description

• watching for sentence flow and clarity

• looking at the overall pacing of the story

Overall critiquing should provide a view of the story that helps the author and yet doesn’t change the writer’s intent or change the voice of the writer. Critiques should also be taken by the writer with an eye toward improvement, but not as a final judge. The writer needs to make the final decision on how much of the critique to accept and use.

There are several other reasons to have a critique partner or group.

• Brainstorming – a critique partner might also be able to help you when you think you know what you want to say, but it doesn’t come out on paper. A second opinion might help you with word choice or an awkward sentence.

• Deadline – Having a regular critique partner or group might also help you stay on track with your output. Knowing you’re expected to produce so many pages a week or every other week can help to keep you moving along.

• Variation – As we discovered different people are going to pick up on different things. Having several people look at your work will provide a good way to get a cross section of ideas. Remember, you will have lots of readers who will also be looking at your writing in different ways.

In general, any kind of critiquing can improve your writing. Critiquing someone else's work can also help your own writing. In spotting things other writers do, you might realize you're doing the same thing.

These are just some of the different ways that a good critique partner or partners can help you and how critiquing can improve your own work. In coming blogs we’ll continue to explore the world of critiquing, how to do it, how to find what works best for you and we’ll do some critiquing of our own.

Now, let’s get to that critique! As we mentioned earlier, last month in our newsletter we asked for our readers to send in an opening scene and we both have done a critique on it. Sue’s comments are in CAPS, Becky’s in italic. This will show why it pays to have more than one person look at your work. We don’t always agree on what will make a scene work. But we both do agree that the key is to look for ways to improve, rather than to turn only a negative eye on the work.

Original Version:

“Here you go, Mr. Capella,” Aubrey Harris delivered the plate of steaming food with what she hoped was a happy tone.

“This not what I ordered,” the old man pronounced in his broken English.

Aubrey closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Mr. Capella, you do this to me every night. You told me you wanted the special. It’s Tuesday, so it’s meatloaf, potatoes, and green beans. That’s the special. Now eat.” She tucked her shoulder length strawberry blonde hair behind her ears.

“This do you to give me trouble.”

“I do no such thing and you know it,” Aubrey said as she placed her hands on her hips. Her blue eyes went darker. “So you can just stop right there mister. I don’t have the time to fight with you tonight.”

“What special about tonight?” Alberto Capella asked.

Aubrey gave a sly smile to her favorite customer. “I have a date with a very nice young man, if you must know.”

Alberto Capella‘s face dropped into a scowl. “Che cazzo fai? You need meet my nephew. He take care of you.”

“First of all, I don’t speak Italian but I’m assuming you didn’t just swear at me. Second of all, I don’t need anyone to take care of me Mr. Capella. I’m twenty five, almost twenty six. So you can stop bringing up your nephew.” Aubrey paused. “Besides, I thought you didn’t like your family.”

The old man ignored the jibe. “Bah, you still a child. Need man. If I could lose twenty years, I do.”

“I think it would need to be more like forty years,” Aubrey smiled at him as she put down his bill and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Now eat Mr. Capella.” With those motherly words, she rose back up.

“You wound my heart.” Alberto bellowed as he touched his chest.

Aubrey’s eyebrow went up. “I’m sure you’ll live.” She turned to head back to the kitchen of the Box Car Diner, then turned and walked backwards a few steps. “Oh hey, before I forget. I have a new cake recipe I want you to taste. Don’t leave without trying it, ok?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alberto complained with a wave of his fork. “First you wound, then you feed. Just like woman.”

Aubrey gave a small snort as she turned and hurried to the kitchen to check on her other two orders. It was a slow night at the diner and her shift was almost up.

“How’s it looking Tony? Anything up?” Aubrey stood behind the owner Tony Smith, trying to look at the food still cooking.

“Don’t rush greatness girl,” he replied.

“Greatness? Really?” Tony gave her a mock scowl. “Fine. I’ll be back in a minute.” Aubrey went to the refrigerator and got out one of the few cupcakes she had left.

Just then, the back door slammed shut. “Dang it’s cold out there,” a woman announced to no one in particular. “I’d say fall is coming sooner than later.”

“Hi Brenna,” Aubrey smiled at her friend. “You’re right on time.”

Our Critique:

SUE’S THOUGHTS AND CRITIQUE ARE IN CAPS. OVERALL COMMENTS... NOT BAD WRITING, BUT THE SCENE IS DISAPPOINTING BECAUSE NOTHING REALLY HAPPENS. LOTS OF TELLING AND NOT MUCH SHOWING. BUT THE SETTING IS GOOD, WE HAVE LEARNED MANY THINGS ABOUT AUBREY BUT WHERE IS THE ACTION, THE PROBLEM THAT IS GOING TO TURN HER LIFE AROUND...SOMETHING MUST HAPPEN THAT WILL KEEP THE READER TURNING THE PAGES... SO FAR I AM PRETTY BORED.

Becky’s comments are in italics: Actually I like her short scene with Mr. Capella. It sets up a possible love interest for her. Sue says it lacks tension, and I agree. I think you could add that with just a couple of lines. We find out Aubrey is getting ready for a date. How about if she is feeling a little anxious as she starts out? Is this someone new someone special? Give us some anxiety.

“Here you go, Mr. Capella,” Aubrey Harris delivered the plate of steaming food, a forced smile on her face. (now we know how she feels and how she appears.) She checked her watch for the fifth time in the past hour. Would this shift never end? (ha! Now we now she’s feeling antsy) AUTHOR IS TELLING US HOW AUBREY FEELS INSTEAD OF SHOWING US.. PERHAPS A SMILE ON HER FACE WOULD SHOW US THE SAME THING.

“This not what I ordered,” the old man pronounced in his broken English. OKAY, HE USED BROKEN ENGLISH, YET WHAT IS WRITTEN ON THE PAGE IS PERFECT ENGLISH. HE NEEDS TO MORE ANNOYED. PERHAPS HE MIGHT SAY:

“WHAT THIS? I NO ORDERED THIS?” AN ANGRY VOICE FROM A WEATHERED FACE FORCED AUBREY TO TAKE A DEEP BREATH.

“Mr. Capella, you do this WE KNOW HE IS SPEAKING TO HER SO WE DON’T NEED THE “TO ME” every night. You told me you wanted the special. It’s Tuesday, so it’s meatloaf, potatoes, and green beans. That’s the special. Now eat.” She tucked her shoulder length strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. (did she do it to both sides of her head? Or just one? which side?)

“You...trouble. To me.” DOES HE WAVE HIS FORK AROUND IN THE AIR AS HE TALKS? IF HE IS OLD, DOES HE HAVE HIS NAPKIN TUCKED IN UNDER HIS CHIN?

“I do no such thing and you know it,” Aubrey said as she placed her hands on her hips. Her blue eyes went darker. (are we in her point of view here? Because if we are, who is seeing her eyes grow darker) “So you can just stop right there, mister. I don’t have the time to fight with you tonight.” HOW DID HER VOICE SOUND? WHAT IS ON HER FACE?

“What special about tonight?” WE DON’T NEED THIS TAG AS WE KNOW WHO SHE IS TALKING TO... (how does he look here? Up to now, he’s sounded contrary, so now we need to see him become a sweet old uncle type and he’s going to be scowling again in a minute so we need to see him give her a fatherly grin or something) .

Aubrey gave a sly smile to her favorite customer. “I have a date with a very nice young man, if you must know.”

Alberto Capella‘s face dropped into a scowl. good “Che cazzo fai? You need meet my nephew. He take care of you.”

“First of all, I don’t speak Italian but I’m assuming you didn’t just swear at me. Second of all, I don’t need anyone to take care of me, Mr. Capella. I’m twenty five, almost twenty six. So you can stop bringing up your nephew.” Aubrey paused. “Besides, I thought you didn’t like your family.”

The old man ignored the jibe. “Bah, you still a child. Need man. If I could lose twenty years, I do.” HOWEVER STILL NOT MUCH IS HAPPENING...ALTHOUGH WE DO GET THE HINT THAT THE HERO OF THIS STORY WILL BE THE NEPHEW... GRIN.

“I think it would need to be more like forty years.” Aubrey smiled at him as she put down his bill and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Now eat, Mr. Capella.” With those motherly WC. PERHAPS ANOTHER WORD...THIS MAKES HER SOUND OLD...words, she went back into the kitchen... DELETE DOWN TO BOX CAR DINER (actually I like this next part. I like his bellowing).

“You wound my heart.” Alberto bellowed as he touched his chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” Alberto complained with a wave of his fork. “First you wound, then you feed. Just like woman.”

Aubrey gave a small snort as she turned and hurried to the kitchen ALTHOUGH THIS IS “NICE” IT STILL DOESN’T GIVE US ANY ACTION... OR REASON FOR THE STORY TO START AND SLOWS DOWN THE READER WHO IS TRYING TO READ FASTER TO FIND OUT WHAT THE PROBLEM IS GOING TO BE...

to check on her other two orders. It was a slow night at the diner and her shift was almost up. She checked her watch again. ??? minutes until she got off (show us how much longer she has to go instead of giving us a vague idea. Making it precise again shows her excitement)

“How’s it looking Tony? Anything up?” Aubrey stood behind the owner Tony Smith, trying to look EITHER YOU LOOK AT THE FOOD OR YOU DON’T... YOU CAN’T TRY.... THAT’S LIKE YODA IN STAR WARS WHEN HE SAYS, “TRY NOT. DO OR DO NOT, THERE IS NO TRY”....at the food still cooking.

“Don’t rush greatness, girl,” he replied.

“Greatness? Really?” IF THIS IS HER SPEAKING THEN THE NEXT SECTION NEEDS TO BE IN A PARAGRAPH BY ITSELF.

Tony gave her a mock scowl. “Fine. I’ll be back in a minute.” AND WHERE DOES HE GO? HE JUST LEAVES THE STUFF ON THE STOVE COOKING? SEEMS STRANGE.

Aubrey went to the refrigerator and got out one of the few cupcakes she had left.

The back door slammed shut, “Dang it’s cold out there,” (if this is her friend, just say it, rather than making it sound like she is a stranger) Brenna announced to no one in particular. “I’d say fall is coming sooner than later.”

“Hi, Brenna,” Aubrey smiled at her friend, relieved that her replacement had arrived. “You’re right on time.”

OKAY... WHAT HAVE WE LEARNED... THEY ARE ITALIAN (I THINK) IN A RESTAURANT, SHE IS A WAITRESS, 25 YEARS OLD AND THE COOK HAS LEFT AND A WOMAN COMES IN.... BORING.....

ONCE AGAIN IT SETS THE SCENE BUT NOTHING HAPPENS...

IS SHE BORED, UNHAPPY, DISSATISFIED WITH HER LIFE?

DOES SHE CRAVE A MAN, SEX, ANOTHER WAY OF LIFE?

THERE IS NO EMOTIONAL “STUFF” COMING OUT OF HER MIND, WE, THE READER, HAVE NO CLUE AS TO WHAT SHE IS EMOTIONALLY.

One way to add some tension is to have her worrying about this upcoming date. Give her some emotions rather than just going through the motion.

I like her interplay with her customer, which then makes me like her. We can tell he’s crochety, but we also see that she is patient with him, even though she is in a rush..

Thank you to our student who sent this in. Your free chart is on its way to you. We hope we have given you some constructive ideas for improving your story.

Next month we will critique another scene. If you have a scene you would like critiqued, please send in a scene of up to 250 words and we will critique it for you. If we use it on our blog we will send you one of our story board charts with the Plotting Wheel.

Send your scene to writethatnovel@gmail.com. We invite you to visit our website, http://www.writethatnovel.com/ for more writing tips and we invite you to leave any comments or questions for us on the blog. Also, we hope you’ll join us next week as we start a month long class on The Plotting Wheel at Fantasy, Futuristic and Paranormal RWA chapter. You can sign up at http://www.romance-ffp.com/