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| Mini__ _ _ | Advice for Critiquing on ASC: |
| |_ /_\ / \ | The Mannerly Art of Critique |
| | | | \_X |________________________________________|
|__________________|Version_1.01______________Feb_12,1997___|
This FAQ was written by Peg Robinson, and is
being Maintained by Stephen Ratliff.
What follows, like all ASC Mini-FAQs are only
suggestions, but we would like you to follow
them.
THE MANNERLY ART OF CRITIQUE.
by Peg Robinson. c.1997.
Distribute freely. The more folks who know how to give and take crit
ethically, humanely, and usefully, the better.
One of the things I was beginning to suspect just watching the
dialogues go by on the newsgroup has been confirmed reading the responses
to my query about a crit essay. I thought maybe folks were scaring
themselves with the idea that crit was some fabulous, arcane pastime which
could only be done well by experts with occult knowledge. You know --
big-time woooo-woooo stuff? The first thing I want to say is that it isn't
that way -- not for the person who hopes to crit, or for the person who
wants her work critiqued.
Yes, there are useful concepts you can pick up, there's vocabulary
that comes in handy. The more you practice critiquing and being critiqued
the more broad, flexible, and complex your understanding of written
material will be. You'll develop a better idea of what makes things work,
and what makes them fail, and you'll be able to be more precise. I suppose
that, so far as it goes, that's the arcane side of the thing. But you
don't have to be a hoary old vet of years of classes to be a perceptive and
helpful critic, and you don't have to go around with your head hung low,
yours eyes to the ground, and a "Sorry, but I don't know much" on your lips
to be a participant in a crit environment. You don't have to have been
sanctified, or have achieved enlightenment and been released from the wheel
of birth and rebirth before you can safely allow yourself to face the
rigors of being critiqued. First off, you'll never get that 'woooo-woooo'
arcana if you always sit things out on the sidelines and never take part
yourself. Second, and far more important, in an environment like ASC most
of the readers already have a much better understanding of written material
than they are giving themselves credit for, and most of the writers are
more than capable of listening to people's observations, and applying them
practically to their own work.
Most of you know darned good and well when a piece of material seems
disorganized and poorly presented, you know when a stretch of dialogue is
vivid, believable and revealing, you know when a character seems to jump
off the page -- and when a character seems wooden and artificial. You know
when a story's chronology is pretty clear to you -- even when for some
reason the writer has chosen to jump around in the time line -- and you
also know when, no matter how simple the presentation of time is, you still
end up badly confused as to what happened when. You know when you find
yourself being shoved into so many of the characters' minds so fast that
you end up confused and dizzy, you know when the pace of the story seems
jarringly uneven, or way too fast, or way too slow, or slow or fast in all
the wrong places. You know when a story seems well balanced, with enough
of everything it needs, and all the bits and pieces landing in the right
places to do the most good -- and you also know when there seem to be
missing elements, or when the structure is lopsided, with too much time and
attention given to one set of elements, not enough to others, and the whole
thing assembled in ways and patterns that are lumpy, bumpy and unattractive
to you.
Some of this stuff you know because you had English 101, some of it
you know from talking about books with friends, some of it you learned from
working on your own writing, some you know from reading posts put up by the
'cognoscenti' -- but most of it you know because there's hardly a person
here who isn't a life-long, hard-case, addicted reader. Not many people
put up with the misery of taking part in a newsgroup who aren't verbally
oriented -- it's a pure print medium, and folks who can't live without
visual or audio feedback don't waste their time with it. A newsgroup like
ASC, where the majority of the postings are story, not one-paragraph
messages, is the *last* place to look for very many folks who aren't
bad-ass text junkies. So there's hardly a soul here who isn't by natural
inclination and years of experience at least at the intermediate level of
literary sophistication. Certainly most of you are well enough grounded to
contribute to crit, and to understand it when you receive it.
What many of you are missing is not the comprehension of writing that
would allow you to comment. Instead, you're missing the skills,
disciplines, philosophy, and manners that would allow you to crit and be
critiqued 'safely,' without doing each other and yourselves damage. You
aren't used to having to think hard enough about your perceptions and
intuitions to see them clearly. You aren't used to presenting them quietly
and dispassionately. You aren't used to thinking not in terms of "what do
I like," but "what makes this thing work." You aren't used to having
dialogues about writing with the folks who created it, and who tend to get
very defensive about it. Many of you writers aren't used to gritting your
teeth, listening, and not defending and justifying yourselves at every
juncture. Unfortunately, those skills matter. Without them you can run
into serious trouble -- or cause serious trouble.
Crit can be seen as an interactive 'combat sport,' pursued in public
by more than one person -- while reading and writing are fairly peaceable,
and usually pursued in solitude. Having the skills to read and write give
you the background information you need to crit and be critiqued -- but
they don't provide you with the experience and skills to take part in
non-injurious ways.
Imagine it like this: let's say you are a private practitioner of
T'ai Chi. Every day you perform the movements, happily going through the
graceful motions of the solitaire of martial arts. You may be very good,
you may just be a happy putzer, but you are familiar with all the
movements, you have enough skill to do most of them without falling on your
tailbone and being taken to the emergency room -- but you are used to doing
them *alone*. The most social you usually get with your discipline is to
go to the park or the dojo and stand in line with other folks, and dance
the dance in public. But you still perform that dance alone. It isn't
interactive.
Now imagine that you, the T'ai Chi putter, go down to the local judo
dojo. There, all around you, you see folks performing movements almost
identical to those you practice in T'ai Chi. All the steps, the gestures,
the motions are at least similar to those you know so well; but instead of
being performed in solitary isolation, they are all being used
interactively and at high speed. Folks are jumping, bouncing, chopping at
each other, flipping each other around. Wow! They are doing the same
thing you do, but look at the neat stuff they are doing with it! Maybe you
could do that, too: after all, you know the moves, right?
Um, probably not, without a bit of preparation and care. You know the
same skills in terms of moves, but you may not know the skills that allow
those moves to be performed interactively without someone getting hurt,
without getting someone angry with you, and without accidentally getting
confused about why the interaction occurs. You may make the mistake of
thinking that the 'fights' are real, serious, and angry, or you may
accidentally do something that ensures that they will become real, serious,
and angry. You may just fail to show respect for your opponent. You may
screw up by pushing someone who is practicing in a direction she isn't
capable of going yet, and as a result do long-term, if not permanent,
damage to her development; and you may do something that will get you hurt
too. If you've offered yourself as a sparring partner you may over-react
when someone with experience, but no clear sense of your confusion and
inexperience, attacks you faster, harder and more skillfully than you
expected. You may equally be upset when you find the partner you got is
every bit as new at this as you are, and he or she lights into you with as
wild and uncertain an understanding of the ethics and attitudes as the most
raw and 'hot-shit' Kung-Fu movie lover who ever thought she was Bruce Lee
incarnate, ready to conquer the world with a few fast kicks and an echoing
"hi-i-i-i-i-i-i-YAAAAAH!!!!"
What you need is a fast run-down of the house rules of the dojo, the
philosophy behind the skills themselves, the goal of the practices, the
best way to present yourself to ensure that everyone comes away having
learned something, and without the kind of damage that leads to therapy and
a quick check of burial benefits on insurance policies. The same is true
in regards to critique. That's what I'm going to try to provide.
A lot of the material below is pretty obvious: for that I apologize.
I'm afraid that in many cases 'obvious' stands repeating. This isn't
because folks are stupid, or innately rude. It's because even the best
intentioned, most mannerly, and most humble types find it easier to
navigate new areas of activity when they have a little 'do this, don't do
that' crib sheet. Like the centipede trying to figure out which foot comes
first, it's very easy to get lost in conflicting ideas of 'how to behave,'
'what my goals are,' and 'should I sound like Rex Reed on a
red-letter-rotten day.' Common sense and common courtesy can end up all
tangled up with false expectations, false hopes, and very real fears and
vulnerabilities. So please forgive me for stating a lot of rules and
principals that you learned in Kindergarten. As Robert Fulgam has pointed
out, we all learned *most* of what we need to know back there in
Kindergarten -- the problem is learning how to keep applying those lessons
over and over in new situations throughout our lives.
Two final comments, before I start. First, regardless of whether you
wish to crit or be critiqued, I STRONGLY recommend you read all the essay
-- or at least both the section dealing with giving crit, and the section
dealing with taking it. This is not so you can then shake your finger and
scold your sparring partners for 'breach of etiquette' when they mess up.
It's so you understand better the kinds of difficulties and uncertainties
they are dealing with, and can be more tolerant and flexible when things
do go wrong. You see, things WILL go wrong. People will make mistakes,
accidents will happen, newbies will mess up, and so will experienced
old-timers -- and you need to understand what makes the whole thing
difficult from *both* sides of the process, so that you can be ready for
the inevitable bloopers, and will be able to act graciously,
compassionately, and with a sense of humor and understanding.
Which leads to my second point. I've made *every* mistake I describe
in this essay -- to my deep embarrassment. Worse, I will make every one of
these mistakes again. And again. And again. Taking part in the critical
process is not one of those things that anyone ever gets perfect at. You
and your partners won't be perfect at it either. That's why the rules and
philosophy exist: not to make it possible for fallible people to read them
once and suddenly become perfect, but so that fallible people can improve,
understand each other, deal with a difficult situation, and be forgiving
and forgiven, and still accomplish the hard work implied by the process
itself. It's a way of making fallibility endurable, even if it isn't
perfect and ideal. You see, we live in an imperfect and non-ideal world,
surrounded by imperfect and non-ideal people -- and are a bit rough around
the edges ourselves, when it comes down to it. We either learn to deal with
that -- or we take up serious hermitting as a hobby. Me, I never liked
being a true hermit-- too boring, and grocery acquisition is a problem.
FIRST: HOW TO GIVE CRITIQUE (We'll cover taking it next.)
OK. The subject for the day is "Critique." Big topic, yes?
Absolutely. So, to begin with, I'm going to narrow the field. There are
two basic approaches to crit, and one of them doesn't work well in an
environment like ASC: that's the approach of the professional critic
reviewing and evaluating the professional artist. The attitude of the pro
critic is 'anything goes;' his persona is that of the Watchdog, defending
the purses of the consumer and the high ideals of art; and his motto is "I
calls 'em as I sees 'em...and if you don't like it, take a hike." The
professional critic is loyal to the consumer, and to the world of art as a
whole, and he or she owes no particular consideration to the artist. The
critic is there to protect the world from trash, shoddy craftsmanship, and
trivial sensationalism. It's an unpleasant but honorable calling when
practiced by an ethical and competent master of the art. Granted, there
are a lot of vicious, pompous, meshugenah schmucks plying the trade; but
many a critic, be he or she ever so spiny and ill-tempered, is hoping to
ensure a better and brighter world. But for all his or her curmudgeonly
virtues, a pro critic is a Bad Thing to set loose on a band of amateurs --
particularly unprepared amateurs who are honorably trying to pursue their
education in the safe shallows of a supportive and interested community of
peers. When amateurs finally decide to make the break and go pro they'll
be appropriate game for the Big Game Hunters-- in the meantime it's best to
treat them as a protected species, and let them develop some size and scope
before cutting them down to size.
That leads us to the second approach to criticism. This is the
approach of the teacher, the editor, the workshop director, the dramatic
director, the friend, and the peer. The idea is that the work and the
artist are both still 'In Progress.' Comments are intended to help and
support the artists, give them insight into their own work, provide a clear
and accurate view of the responses the artist has generated, to make
suggestions on areas of potential improvement, and provide information
regarding the standard assumptions, skills, and craft of the trade.
Negative comments are as appropriate as positive ones, but they should be
expressed politely, they should probably come in moderate doses, and they
should be aimed at specific and clear-cut problem spots in a story or
consistent patterns of failure in a series of stories. The idea is to make
it easier for the writer to see her own work clearly -- not to hurt her,
make her ashamed, or to confuse the heck out of her.
In spite of the occasional helpless cries of the writers, this is
not necessarily a field that should be restricted to old hands, experts,
professionals, or fellow artists. A complete newbie can have as much
valuable insight as an experienced expert, though the nature of their
observations and insights often differ. The old timer is far more likely
to focus on technical elements, polish, mechanics, and craft; the newbie,
however, often offers vivid, spontaneous perceptions of how a work as a
whole affects the reader. Both forms of insight are valuable to a learning
writer.
Over the years I've begun to suspect that the reason many
artists hate having newbies comment on their work is that newbies, like
kids, so often say clearly and unignorably the one thing you didn't want to
know about your results -- but probably ought to hear anyway. An 'expert'
will be calm, dispassionate, and address nice, impersonal issues like your
use of symbolism and manipulations of time. You can feel safe, and
intellectual, and hide your heart behind the academic distance. But a
newbie will come out and say "I understand the story -- but I didn't like
anyone in it very much. They were all so angry all the time." And the
poor author is left floundering. She wanted all those angry people -- but
also wanted the reader to care about them. It hurts to know that, for
better or worse, the anger was clear -- but the reasons why those angry
people were worth loving somehow got left out. All of which goes to show
that, if you're an artist, you need that spontaneous response to keep you
from hiding your head in the academic sands -- and if you're a newbie you
should be aware that the sincerity and spontaneity of your reactions is
likely to whack the writer over the funny bone, and send her screaming away
in agony. BOTH SIDES SHOULD BE PREPARED FOR THIS.
Anyway, back to the main topic. All this feedback is ideally given in
small enough doses with enough encouragement thrown in to allow the
beginner to get a bit of a grip on her own work without being overwhelmed
by negativism, rejection, gloom, despair, and other forms of funk. It's a
tricky proposition: if you decide to take part in the critical process,
you have to balance the obligation to be honest and open with the equal
obligation not to run the artist over like the Roadrunner usually runs down
Wiley Coyote. Most of us would like to believe that all we have to do to
be fair and constructive is holler "BEEE-BEEEEEP!!!!!!!" on our way in, and
leave it at that -- but that is seldom true. Most artists need a bit more
cushioning and consideration, no matter how well they understand that your
intentions are for the best.
So, now we have the basics in hand. The point is to help the artist
improve in general, and to help her improve the piece under consideration
in particular, with as little damage to her ego and optimism as possible.
You've decided you want to give it a try, but you don't really know where
to start, or how to proceed once you do. Fair enough -- though most of the
wisdom you need is contained in the central concept of 'helping.' I know
I'll say that a lot, but that's because it really is the heart of the
thing. The idea is to help, and anything that gets in the way of that goal
is 'wrong' in terms of the spirit of the art, even if it's 'right' in terms
of technique, or perception, or genius. But a general rule set -- a sort
of concise guide-- isn't a bad idea. So here goes.
First, some hints of Crucial Importance. The Rules of Safe Critiquing
1. Only crit those who have INVITED crit, or who have given you permission
when you ask. If they impose limits, like "I'm new at this, go easy, "
respect those limits. If they ask you to avoid particular types of crit,
or conversely to pay particular attention to an area they are working on,
respect those requests, too. It's not a bad idea to consider writing and
asking permission to do a serious public crit even if the writer HAS asked
for that kind of feedback...and be prepared to at least give some idea of
what you want to say. It isn't that the writer lied when she asked -- but
people change their minds, and even the most sincere find themselves
quivering when the reaction they get is worse than they had really
expected, so try making the extra effort in the interests of peace. It
shouldn't be necessary if the writer requested response, but that way at
least the writer knows she had only herself to blame if she doesn't like
the final reckoning.
If a crit is already underway on the newsgroup, and it isn't a 'tough
crit' (about which more later), then it is usually all right to step in
without asking permission -- but do follow all the other rules of
etiquette. The main thing is to try to be sure not to leap out of the
shrubby and ambush a writer who was not expecting crit, or not expecting
'serious' crit. No matter how naive that lack of expectation may appear to
you, the fact is that there are two very different schools of thought as to
what one can and should expect when making a public posting -- and it's
best to assume the worst and compensate, rather than reduce a writer to
tears or rage because she was not prepared for crit. Treat it as a
'multi-cultural' issue, and know that the two schools of thought are not in
agreement, and need to work hard not to hurt each other inadvertently.
2. The point is not to 'win out' over the writer. It's to help. If you
make a point, and it becomes clear that the writer can't use it, either
through her failing or yours, or just because it doesn't fit at the time,
and it isn't merely a matter of her misunderstanding what you were saying,
then *stop pushing it.* I'm serious. More damage has been done in crit
by "I'm going to win you over or go down trying" attitudes than by anything
else short of true malice. I know it's hard -- this is one of my very
weakest points in crit, either as the giver or the taker. I tend to feel
like I have to fight everything out to the bitter end; but it is a very bad
attitude to have. Either a piece of information, once understood, can be
used by the writer, or it can't. That's all, she wrote. Leave it there.
You lose no face in passing up a fight.
3. Don't use the crit as a chance to show off. Again, your intention
should be to help...not use the poor writer and her work as a golden
opportunity to show how very clever you are. Witty repartee, wicked knife
work, sly innuendoes, and lectures that have more to do with what you think
in general than with how the work can be helped in specific are
inappropriate, and very likely to be resented like hell...and that's
perfectly reasonable. It is hard enough for the writer to endure crit that
is helpful and well intended, without feeling like she's being mocked,
used, and shoved to one side so someone else can prance all over the
bleeding corpse of the story. For what it's worth, the prolonged lecture
is another of my weaknesses... bet you couldn't guess.
4. If the writer gets angry and hurt you are, by definition, no longer
helping. That may not be your fault -- the writer may be being obtuse,
hypersensitive, overly defensive, or just plain be having a bad hair day.
It is still true: an author who is angry, miserable, and defensive is no
longer one you are helping, regardless of your intentions, or who is at
fault. Either stop, apologize for the hurt you have caused intentionally
or otherwise, and get out of the discussion -- or at least take a good
stiff drink, a deep breath, look the situation over carefully, and try to
see if you can figure out a way to give your perceptions that will help.
5. This one shouldn't need to be said, but I'm afraid my experience is
that it does need saying, and saying frequently. NO NAME CALLING. No
intentional insults, no put-downs, no political or religious polemics, no
scolding, no lecturing, no characterizations of the writer as a hack, or a
nut, or a sicko. No assumptions that she deserves to be dressed down. No
comments on morals, ethics, sexual perversions, NO NAME CALLING. At all.
Ever.
6. While we're here, be careful of humor -- done well, it can soften a
lot of otherwise painful crit -- but if it misses, it can leave the writer
not only feeling like she was shamed, but also mocked. I'm not saying "use
no humor." It can be a saving grace. Just be careful how you use it, and
if it does misfire, apologize fast! A writer undergoing a crit usually
isn't at her best in terms of her sense of humor anyway, and it's a good
idea to be aware of that, and be ready to make amends.
7. Don't crit any story you aren't really interested in, and can't
generate any positive feelings towards. In a classroom setting, or the
professional world, you might be stuck having to crit work you really
despise. In a situation like ASC you don't have to do that, and it's a lot
easier on everyone involved if you pass, or sit it out on the sidelines.
That way you're far less likely to find yourself posting negative and
damaging "it sucks" messages, and the writer is a lot less likely to feel
like she's under direct and personal attack.
8. Read your crit before you post it. In fact, it isn't a bad idea to
wait at least an hour or two before you read it, to get a little distance
from what you wrote. It's amazing how prose you wrote in the heat of the
moment looks nasty, negative, overworked, hyper, or just plain gonzo when
you go back later. Take the time to think it over, and adjust it before
you post it.
9. If a writer indicates she's had enough -- either of crit in general,
or your crit in particular -- STOP. Don't try to get in the last word,
don't get snide and call her a wuss, don't keep on with your central point.
STOP. This is the equivalent of a wrestler slapping the mat. You have
been given an honorable sign that you are at the edge of a writer's
tolerance levels, and to go further could either leave her badly hurt, or
it could get you badly hurt as she stops trying to pull her own punches and
behave well, and lights into you with the gloves off and the rules of
polite criticism thrown out the window. Grumbling that you're only trying
to help is invalid: once a writer has indicated you aren't helping, for any
reason, you're under obligation to back off. You may think she's a
lily-livered coward with the mind of a slug and the endurance of a
Chihuahua, but at least she is an honest coward: she told you her limits,
and you are under obligation to respect them.
As I'm not in favor of censorship, I'd like to make a point. Almost
any of the no-nos can occur in a forum other than crit. There is a place
for arguing about everything from race, religion, and politics, to the
price of bananas in Denmark. That place is *not* in the context of
critical feedback -- or at least not of public critique of amateurs. A
writer, particularly a beginner, is a vulnerable being, and most vulnerable
when she's opened herself up to crit of her work. It's an act of cruelty
to take someone who has her shields down, and use the existence of her work
and her willingness to allow it to be critiqued publicly as an excuse for
waging war on her religion, ethics, political affiliations, emotional
dysfunctions, obsessions, neuroses, sexuality, or such-like. Reserve the
wars to save civilization for other arenas. Even if you want to fight
about the issue with that person in particular, understand that there is a
clear distinction between her beliefs and goals, and her writing skills,
and that the two things should be pursued separately. If you really
believe that the story you're looking at *demands* your moral objections,
then
at the very least limit yourself to a quiet, rational, private email
explaining your concerns. If it seems to you to be a general issue not
specific to the writer then start a secondary thread addressing the issue
as a general topic, without finger pointing and accusations. It's one
thing
to fling yourself at a professional -- it really is another to go into
combat with a self-confessed amateur, even in a public forum. Don't use
the good will and openness of the artists, and their willingness to learn,
to get in a few cuts in public before they know you're armed and deadly.
Next, how it's done: things to look for, areas to comment on, general
principals, good stuff like that. This one is a lot easier than it looks
going in. When it comes down to it, almost anything you can find to say
about a piece can give a writer information she needs or will at least be
interested in, so long as she doesn't feel threatened or beaten about the
head and ears. Anything from technical features to general impressions,
little things you loved, little things that you really didn't like. (Avoid
the word 'hate' -- even if it's true. No point in setting an already
vulnerable person on edge.) Any of the above can be of interest to a
writer. If nothing else, unless it is a very old piece, or unless she's
finally burned out on the bloody thing, a story will hold the writer's
attention like a mirror will fascinate a parakeet -- those of us who write
stare at our own work in catatonic entrancement for as long as we think we
have one thing more we can learn from it, or one more serious change we can
make to improve it. Letting go is harder than you might think. So don't
worry too hard that you have nothing to say that would be of help or
interest -- the very fact that you're writing about *her story* gives you a
heck of an edge, and the fact that writers think laterally helps even more
-- we can free-associate to revelations by way of some very odd entry
points. However, there are a few pointers I can give you in terms of what
to address, what not to address, and how not to address it, that may help
you out a bit.
1.a. Try to determine what the writer was trying to do before you start
making comments or suggestions. A lot of annoyance would be avoided if
folks who liked one type, style, or genre of writing would resist the
temptation to convert a writer who writes another type of material. I'm
not saying a 'character writer' like me can't learn a lot from someone who
likes action/adventure stuff. In a perfect world we would all be able to
tell stories that were strong in every respect. That doesn't work out that
well in practice. There's only so much room in any piece to accomplish a
story, and most of us have to settle for one fairly simple set of stylistic
and genre goals at a time. So, when you look at a piece, try to decide
whether the writer was trying to do a tragic soap-opera style piece, a
good, five-hankie-five-orgasm round of hurt/comfort, a knee-slapper of a
funny parody, a scathing satire, a rousing action/adventure tale, a
mystery....you get the idea. There is no point in telling a person who is
intentionally doing a moody, introspective bit of character writing that
she'd be a lot better writer if she tried for a bit more in the way of
monsters, blazing guns, daring rescues, and dashing heroes.
You can, however, tell a writer if you see her handling a clearly
action-based story (or section of a story) in ways that are more suitable
to a soap-opera or an introspective piece...so long as that is damaging her
results. The same applies to other cases of style working against the
intent of a story or sequence. For example, I have to work very hard to
remember not to let a lot of 'thinky-feely' stuff get into my action
sequences. I think stories out 'thinky-feely' -- but writing the fast
stuff in that mode takes all the energy and excitement out of it for the
readers. That kind of mishandling happens surprisingly often, and is worth
mention. Nothing worse than trying to write one sort of thing, but doing
it in a way that muddies it up, and gets in the way of your intended goal.
1.b The exception to the rule: if someone shows real and decided talent in
a particular area, even if it isn't the one she is aiming for, it's not a
bad idea to say so. You want to be careful how you say it: don't leave the
impression that she's no good at type A, so she might as well take type B
as a consolation prize. But many of us don't *know* we're good in
secondary areas. I know: seems dumb, doesn't it? But it's true. It's one
of those 'can't see the forest for the trees' things. I've been helped
enormously by people in my life who have taken the time to tell me I'm
reasonably good at dialogue, and at using humor to balance out otherwise
dark or bland material -- and being told has allowed me to use those skills
more intentionally, and with more control, and to recognize that I have
areas of strength that can counteract or even eliminate areas of weakness.
So do tell a writer about secondary skills and talents.
2. An extension of rule one. Not only do you want to understand the genre
and style the writer is using, but you want as much as possible to
understand the shape, and feel, and theme of the story she's trying to
tell. It isn't much help to tell someone that it would be much better with
a happy ending, if everything in the piece was written to lead inevitably
to a tragic demise. Any comments you make should be aimed at helping make
this story the best version of itself it could be, not at turning it into
some other story entirely. Try to identify elements that make the story
work well, and those that reduce the effectiveness. But don't simply start
turning it into a whole different piece. Leave that sort of revisionism to
folks like the Disney people, who feel free to impose a happy ending on
anything.
3. Basic building blocks of literature: structure, style, voice, choice of
POV, dramatic line, use of dialogue, presentation of character, plot,
chronological progressions, pacing, theme. If you have the right turn of
mind no doubt you can think of more, but I'm going brain-dead, here. Any
of the technical elements of writing are worth comment, if you found
something special and good, or something that didn't work very well. Don't
feel like you have to talk academese to comment on anything, though: it's
nice if you and the writer share a common technical language, but you don't
have to know all the 'professional terms' to say "I thought it might have
been better if this scene had been written as so-and-so saw it". Yes,
someone who slings lit-jargon would cut to the chase with "this would have
been more effective from so-and-so's POV" -- but in the long
run, you both said the same thing, now didn't you? And you didn't even
spend that many more words. So don't get hung up over academia-babble.
It's not that important, unless you're planning on getting a 'status
jargon' degree.
Please note that academic and technical comments are useful and
desirable if you see any -- though line by line proof-reading is usually a
bit excessive. There are a lot of you who do have the background, or the
mind set, to approach crit from that angle, and there is a lot to be gained
from that. Further, if you see someone else using a clinical, academic
approach, don't go ballistic and assume they are trying to one-up everyone
else, or lay down the law, or brutalize the writer -- the odds are very
good that they just come from a background that makes that their normal
approach to crit. Read it, learn from it -- but don't get wired about it
unless it's very clear that the critic was taking the approach without the
writer's acceptance, or in the face of her objections. By defending the
writer when she doesn't need defending you may scare away a critic she
appreciates.
4. I don't think you need a long string of vocabulary and memorized
concepts to be a good and useful critic. I do think you need to have a
good eye, you need to think very hard, and you need to express what you see
and think very clearly and as specifically as possible. Remember, you're
trying to help someone. Sloppy observations, unclear comments, hazy
generalizations, and lazy summaries are NOT a help. I've said elsewhere,
crit is HARD WORK. I wasn't kidding. It can be a lot of fun, it can make
you feel like you really gave someone a hand in a hard spot -- but it isn't
easy to do well. If you don't look very clearly at the work, and your own
responses to it, you can end up subjecting a writer to the kind of
frustration a doctor would feel if you walked into the office and said "It
hurts," without telling him *what* hurts, how it hurts, or what you might
have done previously to make it hurt -- and the writer is probably more
frustrated than the doctor. It's her most personal self that has in some
way failed, and you aren't telling her enough to know how the heck to even
see it, much less fix it.
Try to be as clear as possible. "I got bored with the story" isn't a
lot of help. "I got bored after he killed the wombat, and you never won me
back" is more help. "I got bored during the long introspective passage
after the death of the wombat" is even more help. "The introspective
passage is necessary, but you have to find a way to break it up, and insert
more interest, so the pacing doesn't bog down" can be a whole heck of a lot
of help. As you can see, the more precisely you can narrow down a problem
the better. In the same sense a good, clear description of how a section
of a story made you feel, how you responded to a particular character, what
confused you, what made perfect sense to you -- that sort of thing is very
useful. One of my favorite test-readers has an absolute knack for telling
me just how a scene made her feel towards the characters. She doesn't
always manage to put her finger on why it makes her feel that way, but she
doesn't have to. By the time she's told me exactly what she didn't like
about the way the scene made her feel, I can almost always go back, see
what I did that produced that reaction, and if it is possible in terms of
the mechanics of the story, I can fix it. I love her for a lot of reasons
-- but the talent to see and describe rates very high as a fringe benefit.
(Thanks, Joan.) So try to see clearly, describe clearly, and take the
time to know what your real reaction to something was before you crit.
Don't get sloppy, or lie to yourself about what you're seeing and feeling.
That way you get the most out of your own efforts -- and give the most
help to the writer.
5. Don't try to say or fix everything in a single crit session. First
off, you can't. There is no such thing as a story that can't be improved
infinitely, over an infinite period of time. It's like the infinite twists
and turns of Mandelbrot sets -- twists, growing off of twists, growing off
of twists. Infinite regression. Setting yourself the objective of
covering every base, in excruciating detail, is a hopeless goal. You'll
fail. Worse, you'll drown the writer you're trying to help. There may be
one or two people in her life she's willing to allow infinite nit-pick
rights -- but there won't be many more than one or two, and she will choose
them herself as long as she's an amateur. (My husband, reading over my
shoulder, says I should make the point that I don't allow him infinite
nit-pick rights. He's right: I don't. He's a wonderful man, but he has a
bad habit of correcting my spelling before I've even had a chance to run
the spell checker, and correcting all my idiomatic dialogue to
academic/professional 'proper English'-- and he mainly makes faces over the
content. So don't feel bad if a writer warns you off of your detailed
nit-picks; just remember my husband, smile, and know that that is a very
common limit people place -- even on loved ones.)
Your mission is to address the elements that most clearly succeeded,
or clearly failed. Yes, I know -- I said 'be specific' -- but you can end
up submerging the writer in so much detail, and so much bad news, that she
won't be able to learn anything, because she's too busy running for then
whiskey bottle to console herself for all the bad news you just sent her.
Don't go into overdrive. Rome wasn't built in a day, and writers don't
learn everything about even one story in a single crit session. If a
writer is interested and learning from the process she can and often will
follow up by asking for more information about specific areas.
6. Don't try to take over for the writer. I know, again, I said to be
clear and specific. But if you take her story away from her, and present
her with a set of 'orders,' you've stolen her own learning and her own joy
in creation. Try to tell her clearly what failed, try to tell her clearly
what succeeded, make a suggestion or two as non-dogmatically as possible --
then let her play around with the thing. It's like helping anyone learn --
if you take the blocks away from a kid and make the bridge yourself, she
never learns how she would have done it. Further, if the writer starts
making little "I can do it *myself*, mother" noises, or starts backing away
and looking harried then back off, calm down, apologize if you feel you
went too far -- and realize that you aren't a monster for the mistake.
Once you get excited by the process it's very hard not to want to roll up
your sleeves, wade in up to your knees, and get grubby making it all come
out right. It's so much fun that we all fall into the trap of parents
around the world who have given kids Legos or toy trains -- only to find
ourselves on the floor, with the kid grumbling that it was supposed to be
*her* toy. Just accept that it is the original writer's piece, and retreat
politely.
7. If you want a long term goal to aim for, think in terms of 'Zen
CritiqueÆ -- the art of identifying what is missing from a piece. I call
this 'Zen' because it's so....so.... I dunno. So involved in mystic
abstractness. The "isn't-ness of what is, and the is-ness of what isn't."
Very metaphysical. It is comparatively easy to look at what is present in
a piece, and comment for and against; but often the greatest problem with a
piece has very little to do with what is there, but with what has been left
out. Identifying the missing element can be a royal pain in the butt. To
get it right you have to be very clear as to what the writer is trying to
turn the story into, and you have to have a very clear sense of what is
there helping the thing along. Then you have to make a huge intuitive
leap, and imagine something added that would pull the existing stuff
together in a way that expands, illuminates, enhances and unifies the whole
thing. Once you've managed your personal epiphany, you have to find a
clear, precise, and informative way of communicating it that still leaves
the writer with infinite room to pass it up, and infinite room to make
adjustments if she has a few epiphanies of her own.
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COIN: RECEIVING CRIT.
If learning how to give crit is hard, so is learning how to take it.
Miserable -- simply miserable. But it is possible, if you learn how to look
at it without flinching and screaming too loudly.
The first thing to keep in mind is that when you choose to post a
story in public, you open yourself up to public response - ALL public
response. That means that you can and sometimes will get back comment from
people who truly hate your work, your politics, your philosophy, your
perception of the shows, the characters, your taste in style and genre...
Heck, you are even running the risk that they will simply hate everyone and
anything, and will see your presence as an opportunity to say so -- loudly.
While I sympathize with the defensiveness and resentment individuals feel
about that, I can only say that if you decide to show your most personal
self in public you have to come to terms with the fact that it *is* public,
and be accountable for having chosen to take that risk. That doesn't mean
that you have to be a doormat, and it doesn't mean you must never fight
back. It does mean that those times will be few, and the fights should
usually be based on clear issues *other* than your 'rights to
consideration.' You've already ceded some of those rights in return for
the opportunity to present your material to the same general audience the
Top Guns play to. In return you have some obligation to handle the heat
with the sort of grace, maturity, and courage you *hope* to see from
professionals -- even if you are not yet one, and have no serious
intentions of becoming one. You play in the public ballpark, you play by
the public rules.
That can be a real problem, but it can be done most of the time -- and
an 'attitude adjustment' can be a big help. There are ways of approaching
the experience that make it all a bit easier, and that give you something
to hang onto when the heat gets intense. If the critic's byword should
ideally be "How can I best help," yours should be "How can I learn from
this?"
That is an almost unqualified rule. I don't mean "How can I sort the
superb, educated, polite and inspired crit from all the crap." I mean that
when you get critiqued you try to learn from *all* of it. You see, you
will never, ever in your life find a perfect critic -- not as an amateur,
not as a professional. Maybe in the blessed afterlife we will all find
perfect critics. If we do, the odds are we will hate them with an
overwhelming and utterly unheavenly passion. No one likes a know-it-all,
and no one likes to be so perfectly, absolutely understood and managed that
they are left feeling like they are sweet little Polyannas who are easy to
figure out, and easy to manipulate for their own good. So the perfect
critic just isn't an option.
Now, in a situation like we have at ASC, we have to come to terms with
the fact that, if we are learners, so are our critics. As we expect them
to make certain allowances for our lack of experience (and often receive
that kindness and consideration), we have to make allowances for theirs.
There will be newbies, there will be folks who never get the hang of
'polite,' there will be folks who, no matter how they try, never say much
that is all that immediately useful. There will be fighters who have to
have the last word, there will be 'take-over critics' who try to write your
story for you -- every sin I've advised against in the above material will
*still* be committed. In fact, every sin will be committed on occasion
even by the folks who should know better -- like me. Good intentions, lots
of experience, a thorough grounding in critical presentation: all of these
can help ensure that a particular critic will do a good and fair job,
without hurting your feelings. They won't guarantee it. We are all
fallible, to err is human -- and so far as I know we have very few
non-human 'residents' at ASC, unless you count Greywolf. Don't open
yourself up to crit unless and until you are ready to deal with the
fallible humanity of critics graciously and generously. Don't ask them to
be perfect and ever-wise critics, unless you think you're ready to be a
perfect and ever-wise writer -- and keep in mind that if you're so
marvelously perfect and
ever-wise, one of the ways in which you will be perfect is in understanding
and dealing well with the vagaries of your critics. You're stuck both
ways.
How do you deal with all that fallibility, well-intentioned and
otherwise? Like I said, the first thing is to try to treat every element
of the experience as an opportunity to learn. In the very, very worst
cases, it will be a chance to learn how to gracefully and firmly shut down
a conversation that is turning into a war. In somewhat less god-awful
situations it will be a chance to learn how to negotiate a common ground,
language, and rule set with your critic that will allow you to converse
civilly and to work towards the common goal of improving your writing, and
perfecting a specific story. But most of the time it is an opportunity to
listen, and learn just what remarkable and observant readers your critics
really are, and to learn how to make the most of those vivid, sharp,
perceptive observations.
First things first: you have to realize that the response you get will
almost never come in the form your subconscious assumptions would lead you
to expect. It's not just a matter of the readers seeing things you missed
-- it's a matter of their conveying what they saw in forms you may not ever
have expected to deal with.
Most of us have gotten our most extensive critiquing experience in
classroom situations, from teachers. Teachers are absolutely predictable
-- through no fault of their own. They have to be very terse, because they
don't have very much time to grade your work. They have to dwell on
technique rather than content or their own emotional response, because
technique is what they are supposed to be teaching you, content is supposed
to be one of the few areas in which you have infinite choice (barring
porn), and emotional response constitutes 'bias.' So a teacher will almost
always give you back a very spare, technical, hard-nosed evaluation of your
work that will stick to the mechanics and smoothly avoid all real feedback
as to how the piece worked in terms of generating a reaction. Teachers
will also make very clear and pointed comments on precisely how to improve
the piece. That's how they were taught to grade, they really want you to
learn very specific things, and they'd just as soon you satisfied the
requirements of the course rather than flunking because you were so busy
messing around with writing that you never got around to doing it the way
the text book says.
A critic, unless she comes from a strong academic and professorial
background, or unless she is consciously or unconsciously imitating
school-style crit, is a very different beast. That is a very good
thing...the areas teachers don't cover are the ones the non-academic critic
is likeliest to address. A teacher takes you on a swift tour of the 'back
of the tapestry'. A serious and loving reader can show you the 'front of
the tapestry.' She won't always be able to tell you what threads you
pulled, or miswove, or failed to include, that generated the effects she
saw --but she can almost always tell you the one thing you really need to
know. You see, much of the 'backside of the tapestry' stuff is stuff you
have to learn on your own. You can learn it from classes, you can learn it
from books, you can learn it from friends and writing groups, you can learn
it by analyzing the work of other writers, you can learn it from pure
deductive reasoning. The only way you can learn how well you are using
those mechanical skills and what reactions you are generating from your
readers is to get a view of the 'front side of the tapestry' through the
eyes of readers.
If you do get academic, 'back of the tapestry' feedback, and
mechanical, technical pointers, that's great too. In the long run you need
to have an understanding of both sides of the thing if you want to achieve
full control over your work. Just don't limit yourself; learn to pay
attention to both sorts of critic. Both have things to tell you and show
you, both are trying to help, and both can point you in directions that
will help you learn and grow.
That means that almost any reaction you receive can tell you
something. Yes, sometimes you will run into readers who are young enough,
or inexperienced enough, in any form of literature but that specific,
narrow type they usually prefer that they will assume everything 'ought' to
read
just like their favorite writer -- and who will drive you nutty by telling
you nothing except that you aren't much like so-and-so. Most of your
readers will be more interesting than that, though...and even the 'One
Style Readers' are interesting, once you sense where the problem lies. If
you know you are dealing with a tunnel-vision reader, who sees everything
in terms of her own taste range and can't go beyond that, it can still be
worthwhile to try to understand what it is about that little area of style
and genre that fascinates her. If you learn what it is that wins her over
to that, you can often find ways to adapt the key ingredient to mesh with
your own style and taste. If you KNOW you don't want to try to capitalize
on that kind of element, you at least have learned to think very clearly
and concretely about another element of style and literature. Learning to
think about writing and reading is one of the best favors you can do
yourself. A topic may have no immediate application, but the skill you
develop thinking about all those non-goal oriented, off-topic aspects of
writing are the same skills you want to develop when clearly and
specifically applied to your own work.
The trick is to go into every crit session with your brain set to
'learn,' your manners set to 'calm and gracious,' and your tolerance set to
'infinite.' No, not quite infinite. You don't have to put up with
malicious, or utterly brain-dead scorpions -- but even when you look at a
post
and determine that you are dealing with an absolute subhuman ass, it's a
good idea to simply post an "I don't think we are on the same wave length,
let's call this off, OK?" message. This is not because the holy terrors
deserve it in particular -- an argumentative, insensitive, stupid twit with
virtual BO and an attitude from hell isn't entirely deserving of good
manners from you, even if her intentions are good. If you behave well,
however, you come away with the smug, if not humble, knowledge that at
least *you* were well-behaved. Better, if you behave well, you don't scare
away the 'good' critics. You see, the sight of you screaming, frothing at
the mouth, red and bloody, flame-eyed, wind-blown, waving the kitchen
cleaver around, and howling arcane insults is one of those tiny little
things that send the average sensitive, cultured, and mild-mannered critic
into panicked retreat -- even if she thinks the rat you're chasing around
really deserved it. After all, many of the kinder and more perceptive
folks are already very frightened of offending you -- and they are likely
to look at the carnage, nod quietly, and decide that maybe this *isn't* the
best time to tell you that your story was wonderful, but that you have to
rethink the chronological shifts.
The final reason for trying to stay polite, even when you think the
person addressing you is the very devil, is that no matter how hard we try
none of us ever manage to keep track of everything that comes our way.
That is particularly true during a crit, when the subconscious is screaming
"Defense," and the super-ego feels like it's been bonded to green
Kryptonite. Most of the time when you think someone is a jerk you'll have
a fair chance of being right, but then there's that rare occasion -- the
occasion you shudder to look back on for years and years after it
happened--
You read a post -- you read it again. It's garbage. The poster was a
fool, and a monster, and nasty, and obviously out to get you. You wait an
hour or two. You read it again. Still as abrasive as steel wool -- and
nowhere near as useful. You decide: you're gonna let the broad have it
right in the chops. You limber up your fingers, pull out the keyboard,
type like blazes, push the send button, and take yourself out for a
congratulatory cup of hot chocolate -- you really showed *her*!!!
Two weeks later you're clearing out all the old posts, you stop and
look that offensive one over, planning on another round of self
-congratulation, and---
Ohmigod! Did the electrons re-arrange themselves while you weren't
looking? Has God gotten revisionist, and decided to re-write history? For
some unexplained reason the post suddenly makes perfect, clear sense. OK,
it's a little cold, a bit distant, but that suddenly looks like someone who
is just a bit formal in her approach. And the message she was trying to
send you: YIKES!!! It's really very perceptive -- a twist to the thing you
never saw before, by jingo!!!! You would never have seen this in a million
years on your own, but if you follow through on the idea you can pull your
whole story together into something that's absolutely turbo-charged. The
woman is a genius, a wonder, a marvel...
She's the person you ripped to shreds in public for trying to help
you.
Granted, that doesn't happen often. But once is enough, when you add
it in to all the other good reasons not to go to war. By all means stand
up for yourself -- but don't go on a holy jihad. Do what you must to save
a little face, if there's a chance that your opponent has left a damaging
enough impression of your character and beliefs that you'll have to deal
with the repercussions for a long time to come. That usually isn't the
case, but on occasion you may feel you need to say that you are not a
Commie-pinko-fagot-racist-fascist-hamster-loving-bomb-slinging-enemy-
of-the-free-world. If you feel you have to make a comment, then do what
you must fast, clean, without losing it -- and get the heck out. Close it,
end it, and don't look back for a few parting shots. And keep in mind: a
quiet "no comment" is usually superior to a return volley. Honest.
Really.
Now, as for 'rulesÆ -- there aren't as many formal rules for being the
critiqued as there are for being the critic. That's because your role is
superficially passive-- what you should be doing is paying close attention,
sometimes asking for more details, occasionally asking for clarification,
making polite "I'm listening" noises, and taking notes. Once in a while
you get to explain what you did -- sometimes even the best reader misses
something that really was there, and really was well done, and will
appreciate a correction about a point they've missed. Once in a while you
get to say what you were trying to do, to make it easier for the critics to
address the problem: if they don't know what you were attempting they have
a hard time giving you useful feedback about it. But mostly you listen,
and think, and try not to scream, cry, or get in fights. However, there
are a few rules that help make it all easier.
1. If you don't want to be critiqued, say so. It doesn't take much, and
there's no loss of face in doing so -- not everyone wants that experience.
As there are a lot of perfectly civilized and well-intentioned folks who
come from backgrounds where putting something out in public is taken as
unstated permission to crit at will, it's smart to assume that a "don't
send back critical comments" statement is a good move. It won't guarantee
freedom from crit, but it will slow it down some.
2. If you do want to be critiqued, say so -- and set terms you can live
with. No, not a seven page legal document...but if you are quite sure you
need a gentle response, say so; if you want folks to address certain
elements you are working on, say so; and if you specifically want to avoid
dealing with a particular area, say that too. You see, if the Net contains
many folks who see a public posting as an invitation to comment and crit,
it also contains many polite and civilized beings who wouldn't dream of
doing so without a direct request -- and you will never hear from them if
you fail to ask, or hear about the specific things you're trying to hear
about if you don't communicate your desires and interests. Which leads me
to a simple, obvious, but often forgotten principal of communication -- the
people you deal with can't read your mind or your heart. You have to take
the initial risk of stating your needs, desires, and goals clearly, or you
have no real right objecting when no one comes even close to addressing
those needs. Don't assume your critics are telepaths or empaths. They
aren't.
3. Do not be surprised if there is no crit. You're essentially standing
on a corner with a sign and a pile of hard copy. Some slow weeks there
will be lots of folks who have the time and interest to stop and chat.
Other weeks there will be absolutely no-one, or there will be people who
scoop up copies of your story, jump on buses, or commuter trains -- and
never get back to you. Even when there are droves, in many instances they
will have little interest in doing more than passing on a couple of
comments, and going on their way. The main thing to remember is that if
you really need feedback, you have to build your own support network to
provide it -- the Net may give you feedback, or it may not. But a
dedicated, knowledgeable bevy of writing buddies will more often be
reliable. Teachers, writer's circles, friends, workshops, fanzine editors,
those are the sort of folks you can more or less rely on to fill in your
personal need for feedback -- and even they have been known to fail. Time
is tight for everyone, patience is hard come by, insight is a variable
thing, and a writer is often too busy writing to also be a critic. In the
long run we are all on our own, with a keyboard and a lot of headwork. So
don't blow your cool when the Net is not a reliable source of response --
it happens, and that's really all there is to it.
4. When you get feedback, take the time to read it carefully -- and if
you feel yourself becoming defensive, take the time to go have a cup of
coffee, smoke a cigarette, make dinner, take a walk -- whatever works for
you to reduce stress. Then, when you are calm again, try reading it over.
In many cases you will find that a crit, while not what you hoped to hear,
or not in a form you hoped to hear it in, is still useful, still well
intended, and still deserving of your polite acknowledgment. And remember,
even if it isn't worthy in even the remotest sense, a polite "Thank you for
responding, I appreciate your interest, but don't think I can use that" is
probably the best reaction, and the one least likely to scare off other
critics.
5. When you do get crit, try not to get involved in defense,
rationalization, extensive explanation, or other forms of gibbering. The
idea is to listen and learn, and unless you seriously think that
clarification of your intent, or pointing out what you did three paragraphs
back that made things work in ways the reader isn't seeing, will help the
critic make more accurate comments, then just hang on tight and listen.
The only real exception is that, in private email crit, there's a bit more
room for chatter and chitter. Private email is closer to sitting and
talking over a cup of hot coffee in the privacy of your own home, and you
ought to be allowed a bit more latitude to moan, explain, argue, and
otherwise perform the verbal rituals we all enact to soften the blows of
crit. Even there, try to restrain yourself. If it helps, know that
'limiting rationalization and argument' is the area where I would most
often give myself a failing grade. In fact, if there is some 'flunked out
entirely' category lower than 'F-minus,' I deserve it. I know how easy it
is to fall into that habit -- and I know how damaging it is, too. You are
too busy justifying to listen when you go off on that round. Worse, your
kind and helpful critics will eventually just stop trying: why should they
have to put up with every comment they made being followed by seven pages
of self-justification from you in a format that proves you were more
interested in proving you were right than in hearing how you were wrong?
Patience and
tolerance for writerly weakness and vulnerability is one thing -- but there
are limits, and it is all too easy to reach them, surpass them, and end up
out in limbo -- with your critics staying behind, shaking their heads as
you go into orbit.
6. An extension of the above rule: don't try to argue over a reader who
has seen your story differently than you intended. This is another area in
which I fail regularly. Yes, it can be legitimate to point out that you
were trying to do something other than what they saw, and yes, it can be
valid to point out that you did something that completely justified some
element in your story -- sometimes readers really appreciate being
corrected when they missed a crucial point that did exist. But, if they
missed the point, then AT LEAST FOR THOSE READERS the point wasn't made
clearly or strongly enough. In the long run, you are trying to understand
when you are getting your point across to the majority of your readers --
and when you aren't. No matter what you did to make things easy for them,
if the effort failed, it failed. End of discussion. No, you won't be able
to win with everyone, every time; but if you're failing often, or if a
serious look at the thing shows that, for all your work, you could have
done the thing better, then that's really the end of the matter. In the
long run results matter more than effort or intentions, and infinite
justification and debate is a waste of your time and your critics'. Try to
take the attitude that if someone missed the point, it may have been your
fault. If, after careful consideration, you decide it really, really,
really wasn't, remember that even gentle, intelligent, caring readers
differ, they have bad days, and they come from a lot of backgrounds other
than yours -- and they weren't necessarily wrong or stupid not to see what
you were doing, or to take it in ways other than those you intended.
7. If you've taken all you can, and are burning out or getting angry, say
so, apologize, and call quits early. It will save you a lot of fights, and
it will make the crit process easier on you, your critics, and the
community as a whole. There is no reason to feel you have to play Kid
Macho about crit. Your limits are your limits, and you are much better off
admitting them than trying to stick it out, and in the end losing your
temper, your nerve, or your optimism.
8. No matter how hard it is, try to treat your critics as the friends and
helpers they want to be, not the aggressive and negative assholes your ego
wants you to see them as. It is very hard to remember that even firm,
tough critics are helpers when they give you news of your fallibility and
erring humanity; but it is important to fight the beast and refuse to give
in to your own defensiveness. Be polite, listen closely, let them know
when you can't go any further, and thank them when the crit is done. My
friend the local Michele, who reads for me, and who I read for,
says I should type this all in caps, or stick lots of stars and asterisks
around it, or come up with some other visual wing-ding to make it stick in
your memory. I'll pass, and instead comment that you must remember it.
Period.
"TOUGH CRIT"
This is a specialized subset of crit: the 'haute ecole' version of the
thing. The underlying principals are not far removed from those of general
crit -- the idea is still to help the writer, and to perfect the piece of
writing. It's far more intensive, though, and far more likely to focus on
the weak points and the technical details; and it really can be 'tough.'
To a novice or an outsider it can look lethal, petty, overly harsh,
violent, destructive, and outright brutal. Looks are deceiving. In most
cases the participants are in control, know pretty well when they are going
over the edge, are gauging the power of their responses to a fine degree of
accuracy, and are not endangering each other.
I haven't seen much tough crit occur on ASC -- a few low-level rounds,
but that's all, and most were cut short by bystanders who failed to
understand that the participants were willing, and that the process was
perceived as positive and necessary by both the writer and her critics. I
HAVE run into more than one comment, both privately and on the newsgroup,
that more would be welcomed by some people. That being the case, I'd like
to say a few words about how to deal with it as a community. Not the rules
of how it is done...to some extent that is negotiated by the participants.
But if it is to occur, there should be some understanding of how to
respond to the activity.
My advice is that if you see a round of tough crit going on, don't get
involved without first asking -- folks are concentrating very hard, have
granted each other a remarkably high level of trust, and you can wreck
their focus, shake the rhythm, disrupt a pattern of logical development, or
otherwise mess up the thing and get yourself yelled at if you 'enter the
ring' without permission.
If you are in doubt as to whether all the participants are willing,
ask, either by email or a public post, before flying to the defense of
someone who appears to be under siege. She may honestly be enjoying
herself -- even if she's losing. For those who love the energy and
exploration of the critical process, it isn't whether they win or lose,
it's how much they learned and thought along the way.
If you do want to play along, and you are allowed in, remember that
the goal is *still* to help the writer, keep to the subject, and try to
ease your way in slowly if you've never done 'tough crit' before. This is
no more a place to grandstand and show off than the milder, less formal and
intense types of crit are.
If you *want* tough crit on a story you've posted ask for it very
specifically... or, better, send an email to a writer or reader you trust,
and invite them to do public crit of your work. And remember, when it gets
too heavy for you, slap the mat and pull out. Just as with most martial
arts (except professional boxing, which seems to demand bloodshed), blood
in the ring means someone failed -- and if you are the one who failed by
not letting your critic know when you reached your limit, that is *your*
failing.
If you know you don't want to play 'tough crit,' either as a writer or
a critic, then don't. No loss of face not to want to play that game. Sit
on the sidelines and cheer on the participants, learn from the kinds of
analysis that go by, or just pass over the thread, if you have a distaste
for intellectual judo.
There's only one last thing I can think of to put in, and that's a
comment on the "mobbing" phenomena -- a close relative of, or the precursor
to flamewars. That's the tendency of everyone and her sisters and brothers
to come piling in the minute a dialogue starts to get heated, or even a bit
confused. Try to avoid it: fifteen people posting desperate explanations
of what someone else was *really* saying, or defending underdogs, or
scolding this participant or that, usually just makes the original posters
feel defensive, and frustrated. If you think you have something very
concrete and helpful to add, think again -- and then, before you push
'send,' think one more time. You may be right -- but you often won't be.
That's about it, folks. There isn't much more to say that doesn't
take us into levels of nit-pick and legalistic mumbo-jumbo above and beyond
the useful. If you remember to be polite, remember that both the writers
and the critics are human, fallible, need thanks and consideration, and
want to be treated caringly, you've already come most of the way. The
philosophy of "I'm here to help" and "I'm here to learn" will take care of
most of the rest of it, and serious thought and commitment on both sides
will ensure that the process is useful and, well...maybe not always
enjoyable. It's too intense and too revealing to always be enjoyable. But
it will at least be as endurable as the bumps and bruises that come
naturally in a martial arts session -- no broken bones, no blood, and no
bad feelings if everyone was careful, respectful, and didn't get too
carried away in the heat of the moment.
Other than that, go with the divinity of your choice, crit and be
critiqued in peace and joy, and live long and prosper.
Peg
(Who suspects that "Miss Manners" can relax and not worry about her job
being threatened -- at least not by me.)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The Preceeding was an ASC Mini-FAQ. It contians only suggestions, but
we would like you to follow them.
If you have comments on this or any other ASC FAQ, contact the
Maintainer at sratliff@runet.edu
Stephen Ratliff, ASC FAQ Maintainer
=======================================================================
--
Stephen Ratliff CS Major, Radford University.
sratliff@runet.edu Radford, Virginia 24142-7496
rec.arts.tv.mst3k.misc's polite target. Marrissa Stories Author
http://www.cs.runet.edu/~sratliff/
FAQ Maintainer for alt.startrek.creative FAQs/
Index Maintainer as well index/
http://aviary.share.net/~alara/
ASC Awards run from 2/02/97 to 3/19/97 see alt.startrek.creative for
details.
"I assure you that at the first sign of betrayal, I will kill him
(Garak). But I promise to bring the body back intact."
"I assume that's a joke."
"We'll see."
-Worf and Sisko, DS9's "In Purgatory's Shadow"