Why Some Writers Don't Want Others To Critique Their Writing

Yesterday I wrote about what we see when we critique the writing of others versus what we see when we look at our own writing. I have always urged writers to let other writers help them through critiquing. Many of us do this on a regular basis.

But there is a group of writers who would rather walk naked through JFK Airport than allow another writer to look at what they've written. There could be a number of reasons for this feeling.

1. Self-doubt:  (See my recent post on this.)  If you suffer from self-doubt, you probably are not going to want to show your work to another writer. You hear this little voice in your head saying things like This is so awful. I know they'll hate it. Actually, you don't know that, you just convince yourself.

2. Fear of criticism:  Nobody likes to be criticized. Our parents scolded us for not doing something the right way. Our teachers criticized us in remarks on papers handed back or when giving an oral report. Nothing makes you want to curl up in a corner and disappear than this kind of criticism. The thing to remember when another writer is critiquing your work is that it is never meant to hurt you. On the contrary, it is meant to help you end up with a publishable piece of writing. Keep that as a mantra--It's to help, not hurt. 

3. Loss of privacy:  We feel very protective of the stories, essays and poems we write. Our precious words are like our children--to be protected at all times. If you want your work to be the best, a critique from one or more writers can be beneficial. Let them into this part of your life so that you can become a better writer.

4. Fear that work will be stolen by another writer: There are writers who do fear this. The critiques you receive are most likely going to be from writers that you know personally or belong to an online group together. They are not strangers off the street, so the odds of something being stolen are very minute.

5. Knowing that it is not your best work: If this is the case, hold back on asking for a critique until you have polished that piece of writing until it shines. Revise, edit, revise, edit--do it as long as it takes for you be satisfied with what your end product is. More than likely, whoever critiques your work is going to find more for you to work on. But that's exactly the reason we ask for help. It's much better to receive a list of suggestions from a critique than a rejection from an editor.

6. I don't want to return the favor: If this is the reason you don't want to have someone critique your writing, I have little sympathy. It's a selfish reason. If you receive help, be willing to give it. 

The biggest reason to ask for someone to critique your work is that, if you take the suggestions to heart and rework wherever the critiquer suggests, you will grow as a writer. I don't mean that you must change every little thing the critiquing person marks. You change the ones you agree with, the ones that make sense to you, the ones that you see can help this story. If you receive several critiques on one story and everyone marks the same area as a trouble spot, pay close attention. That is definitely an area you might want to work on. 

Other Eyes See More When Critiquing Your Writing

When I critique the work of my fellow writers in my online writing group, I see things that need fixing that I never see in my own writing. In reverse, when others critique my writing, they point out areas that I completely overlooked when doing the editing on the story or essay.

Why, I have asked myself many times, is it easier to see errors in other peoples' writing than in your own? I don't have a definitive answer to that question but perhaps it is a matter of objectivity versus subjectivity.

I can be completely objective when I critique the work of another writer. I have no emotional attachment to it. It is fresh meat--I've never seen it before.

When I edit my own work, I do have an emotional attachment and I've seen it too many times to count. I write a first draft, edit, revise, edit again and read it dozens of times in-between while deciding what to do to make my work better. And the keywords here are my work. Because it's mine, it's more difficult to be objective. I also tend to skip over little things like unnecessary words, repetition, awkward sentences and ones that are somewhat unclear. It's easier to skip past those minor problems when you have read the piece multiple times.

When I am critiquing a story written by another person, those things I mentioned in the paragraph above are the things that jump out at me. I'm tuned-in to finding them. I also look for that all-important universal truth sentence in an essay. I look for emotional impact. I look for reader appeal.

In my own essays, I know what it is that I'm attempting to get across to my readers, but sometimes I don't make it clear in the writing. And, because I feel the emotions when writing, I don't always check to make sure there is enough to bring out emotion in the reader.

One of the reasons for allowing whatever you've written to sit quietly somewhere for days, or even longer, is that little things that need fixing tend to jump out when you read it again. Do not ever, ever finish a story and submit it immediately. That's a subject for another post someday! Have I ever done it? Yes, and I usually wish I had not.

I hope I have made a case for the importance of having someone else critique your writing. They will find things that you never saw and, once you make the corrections, you'll end up with a stronger piece of writing.

My online writing group runs a membership of around 25 members. Over and over, I've seen those writers remark that they wonder why they had not seen the places that needed fixing in their own work. Instead, it took other eyes to zero in on the problem areas.

Overcoming Self-Doubt On Your Writing Journey

Nearly everyone is a victim of self-doubt at some time in their life. For some, it becomes a constant companion. As the poster says, self-doubt is not something a writer wants to catch or hold onto. And, by all means, do not let self-doubt be an excuse for not writing or submitting your work.

If you doubt your own ability to write a publishable story or essay, you could end up closing the door to publication. If you don't feel good about what you've written, how are you going to convince an editor that he/she should pay you for it? 

Why do we struggle with self-doubt? Where did it come from? Who cursed you with it? There will be different answers for all of us. Perhaps a teacher or a parent put a negative spin on something you'd attempted. Maybe an older sibling laughed when you tried something new. Or a friend jeered your attempt at writing.

As a teen, I said that I'd like to go into advertising and, quick as a wink, my dad said, "That's not a job for a woman. It's much too competitive." I didn't argue with my male chauvinist father, but inwardly I wanted to show him that I could do it. It was the 50's and lots of women were told they could not do this or that. After high school, most girls had the choice of being a secretary, a nurse or a teacher until they got married. I ended up being a teacher and it wasn't until many decades later that I tried my hand at writing. I didn't end up in the advertising field but I know now that I could have done it. My dad's comment did not cover me with self-doubt. It worked the opposite. I wanted to show him that I could do something more than just a 'woman's job.' 

It would be so easy to wear a mantle of self-doubt after a negative experience as mentioned above. When parents, teachers, siblings or even friends, put you down for one reason or another, you have two choices. You can slip into the self-doubt mode and make it your habitual spot or you can take the I'll show them attitude and kick self-doubt out the door. 

If you are a victim of self-doubt, you have lots of company. I think some writers fall into that category at different periods of their writing journey. Maybe you've had several successes and then it all changes. You receive nothing but one rejection after another. That would be enough to sink you into doubting your ability to write. Hopefully, it is a short term feeling and not enough to make you quit writing.

What are you going to do to overcome this self-doubt business? Here are a few things to consider: 

1. Recognize it--it's perfectly alright to admit that you're a victim. You're definitely not alone.

2. Focus on the positives--negative thoughts foster negative actions. Dwell on the positives so that they come first in your thoughts as time goes on.

3. Ignore others who feed your self-doubt. It's all about you, not them.

4. Use a mantra that will keep you on the positive track. Remember the little engine that could? His mantra gave him success. Yours can, too. 

5. Develop that I'll show them! attitude.

We all suffer with occasional self-doubt. We don't want it to persist and become a constant in our life so we need to work on it for as long as it takes to climb out of the pit.

My Flint Hills Week-end

The Flint Hills of Kansas

What an exciting week-end I had. Ten years ago, an event labeled "Symphony in the Hills" wowed the people of our state, so it's become  an annual event. Ken and I have always wanted to go but tickets go so fast that we'd never been successful. This year, we got smart and booked our tickets through our senior living community. We rode their bus and had reserved seating. Smartest thing we've done in a long time.

The Kansas City Symphony presents a concert smack dab in the heart of the Flint Hills, a different spot each year. This 10th Anniversary year, they returned to the initial spot near Cottonwood Falls in Chase County. The crowd was estimated at 7,000. 

The weather for this outdoor event was 'iffy' all day. Rain off and on and gloomy skies, but we packed rain gear and a few other items. For some unknown reason, I tossed in my sunglasses and so did Ken. On the hour bus ride through the spectacular scenery, I kept wondering if we had been crazy to even try going. The forecast didn't look good. As we neared the destination, the skies were more clear and clouds white and fluffy, not looking like gloom and doom as they had back in Manhattan. One of those clouds opened up and poured on us as we left town. 

We had a choice of riding up to the event site or walking a mile on a trail. The line for the ride was so long that we decided to walk and glad we did. Along the trail, we met riders on horseback every so often who watched over things and greeted people. We were also treated to the magnificent view no matter which way we turned. I donned my sunglasses as we set out and wore them until the sun went down later in the evening. So glad I had brought them!

When we saw the many white event tents, we knew we were there! Educational classes, art auctions, gift shop, bar and food--all these found in various tents.We strolled around and then ate, finishing in time to find our seats. We had seen many people carrying chairs as they hiked up the trail, some pulling wagons filled with chairs and food and rain gear. There were several rows for patrons of the Kansas City Symphony and then for groups like ours. We were right in the center so had a great view The rest sat on chairs or blankets they'd brought, even a few on the many hay bales provided. Huge speakers projected the sound across the prairie. 

With the opening composition, I felt goosebumps rising on my arms. To listen to such a fine symphony orchestra amidst nature at its best was a thrilling experience. One piece after another continued to thrill the audience. Lyle Lovett and his accompanists presented several songs to bring the show to a stunning end. The final moments brought shivers as the entire crowd rose to their feet and joined in singing Home On The Range. 

Partway through the performance, a herd of cattle and several cowboys on horses could be seen just to the left of the band shell and atop a hill. Talk about local color! This was it. Add the sight of the setting sun--which had spread its rays on us all afternoon--and I'd call it a perfect evening.

If you would like to learn more about this event go to the website for information and photos.

The sun had set when we started to walk down the well-lit trail to the parking areas. From the top of the hill as we set out, we could see what appeared to be a never-ending line of walkers leaving the symphony site. I thought that most of them had the same feelings as I'd had. The sound of music across those green hills had fed my soul and I knew the memory would stay with me for a very long time. 

On Sunday, I attended a poetry presentation by three Kansas poets who have an album called View From Smoky Hill. There are poems and spoken stories on the album that are about Kansas, the prairie, and the people. It was a perfect way to end my Flint Hills Week-end.

Gather Stories For A 50th Anniversary

Today, longtime friends are celebrating their Golden Wedding Anniversary. Ken and I did the same in June of 2014. It's a real milestone that can be marked with a family dinner, an Open House for family and friends, or perhaps a special trip for the anniversary couple.

Couples receive cards and money trees, flowers and maybe a magnificent cake like the one pictured. here. Another gift that could become a treasure is for the children of the couple to make up a book of stories and pictures that highlight the 50 years. It can't be done in a short time, so you would need to start well ahead of the big day. It could be the most treasured gift received--one that the couple will read over and over again.

About a month ago, I wrote about making a book of family stories for my youngest brother's 60th birthday. You can read it here if you missed it. You can learn what I did to make the book a simple project.

It's definitely easier to put a book like together if you've been writing the family stories for some time and have a treasure trove of them at hand. If you are starting from scratch, be sure to begin well ahead of the anniversary party. If time is short, write one all-inclusive piece instead of many individual stories. If at all possible, plan ahead so you can have a lot of stories. What about 50 stories for 50 years? Might be a bit daunting but maybe not.

Some things that can be included:

1. Their wedding

2. Honeymoon

3. children they had (birth dates, order etc)

4. family vacations

5. places they lived through the years

6. jobs they had

7. intersts/hobbies  they had

8. retirement years

9. travels as a couple

10. how they dealt with the Empty Nest

11. cars they had over the 50 years

12. houses they had over the 50 years

13. churches they may have attended

14. grandchildren/great-grandchildren

Fifty years together deserves some special recognition. Next week-end, Ken and I will celebrate 51 years. A lot of the stories I've written would make up a book of our married life. Hallmark and other similar companies sell baby books to record all those cute and wonderful things our children do as they grow. Maybe they should sell books to record the multiple years of married life.

My Path To Books

Note: The following appeared in an anthology titled Flashlight Memories in 2011. I have always felt that my writing and reading have gone hand in hand. My earliest memory of a book is a story about Mr. Flibbertyjibbet. Is it any wonder that name can be easily plucked from my memory bank 65 plus years later? My mother reads the book to me as we snuggle on the sofa. My father reads the book to me, too. I bring the book out whenever an adult is there, and I hand it to them. My grandmother, every one of my aunts and Mother’s friends—they all read to me. My kindergarten teacher reads to us, too. She sits on a small chair, and we all gather around her, sitting Indian-fashion on a green carpet. Every day Miss Horst reads a new story and shows us the pictures. Her hair is silver, her lips are cherry red, and her eyes sparkle as she reads. I want to read the book myself, but I don’t know how. Mother makes a promise. “Next year you’ll learn to read.” And I trust her, for she’s never been wrong. I am six years old and in the first grade. Miss Curto passes out the books, one for each child. “Do not open the books,” she says. How can I wait any longer to see if I know how to read now? The teacher shows us the proper way to open a new book—first the front cover, then the back. Then we close it again and she instructs us to open to the first page. There are a few words, but I don’t know what they say. I’m disappointed. I can’t read. Was Mother wrong? But in only a matter of days, I am reading. I read stories about Dick and Jane and Baby Sally. I am one of the first to finish the book. And then there is a new book, and my happiness knows no bounds. This one has the same children in it and their dog and cat. Spot and Puff become my friends, and I read more and more books. At home, I read Mr. Flibbertyjibbet to my mother. I read to my father, my grandmother and my aunts. I bring home books from school and I read them over and over. One day my mother takes me to a new place. She explains we are going to the library, and by the time we have walked several blocks to the square brick building, I know that the library is full of books that I may borrow. I know that I must be very careful with the books because we must return them for other children to read. “We would like a library card, please,” my mother tells the woman behind the big desk by the front door. The woman has white hair that is pulled away from her face and fixed in a bun behind her head. Her cheeks look soft, and she has eyes that are as blue as the summer sky. Rimless glasses rest on her nose. She wears a navy blue dress with a white lace collar, and she is fat like one of my aunts. Her mouth is clamped tight like my grandmother’s when she is angry. Maybe I won’t like this place after all. Then the lady slides a card across the desk, dips a pen in an inkwell, and hands it to me. “Write your name on this line, please.” I print my first and last name as neatly as I can and slide the card back to her. She comes around to the front of the desk. “I am Miss Maze,” she says. “and I will show you where the books for you are kept.” She smiles at me and holds out her hand. Mother nods when I look at her for direction. I slip my hand into the one Miss Maze has offered. I look down and see she is wearing black oxfords that tie, and the skin around her ankles hangs down over her shoes. I wonder if it hurts. We walk up two steps into a world of enchantment. Miss Maze patiently shows me row upon row of books, and she shows me how to replace them on the shelf after I look at them. She helps me choose three books to take home, and then it is time to go back to the big desk and learn how to check them out. My library card will be ready for me the next time we visit she tells us. As the years go on, the library becomes my second home, and Miss Maze becomes my special friend. Her eyes light up, and she smiles whenever I walk in the door. She often shows me new books that have arrived, and I am eager to check them out. I am there winter and summer, in sunshine and thunderstorms. I learn that if you like a book especially well, you should look for more books by the same author. I read a series of books with titles like Ballet Shoes, Theater Shoes, and Circus Shoes, and I dream about being one of the girls in those books. I read books by Lois Lenski called Strawberry Girl and Blueberry Sal, and I learn about being a child of a migrant worker. I read all the Nancy Drew mystery books, the Bobbsey Twins, the Little House books, and move into a series about a girl named Sue Barton. I follow Sue as she becomes a student nurse, a resident nurse, a visiting nurse and every kind of nursing job there is. And then I am a teen, and I read young adult books like Bramble Bush, which moves me to tears, ands soon I move on to adult books. All these years in the 1940’s and 50’s, I visit the library almost on a weekly basis. I walk several blocks, taking a shortcut behind the elevated train platform. I carry a stack of books to the library on the cinder path and come back with books piled high in my arms. I read in all my spare time. I leave my everyday existence behind when I am reading. I learn about other cultures, live vicariously through the heroines in the books I devour. I store up a desire to travel so I can see these wondrous places in the books. My favorite class in college is the literature class. I am the only one who doesn’t groan when the professor tells us we will read one novel every week. We go to the college book store, check out a book on Friday afternoon, and we are to be ready to discuss it on Monday morning. I look forward to Friday morning when the professor gives us the name of the book for the week. My feet fly across campus to the bookstore. I am a fast reader and have no trouble finishing by Monday, while some of the others sit up late on Sunday night trying to finish. I’m a senior citizen now, but I still love books. I am never without a book to read, and the library still feels like home to me. When I am there surrounded by thousands of books, I feel a sense of peace and contentment that I find in no other place. As I make my selection from the fiction shelves and from the shelf that holds books about writing, I sometimes think of Miss Maze. I learned to read at school, but I learned about the world of books from Miss Maze. I wish I’d thanked her for what she gave me, but as a child and a teen, I was too shy to do that. Perhaps she knew what sharing her treasures meant to me. I’d like to think so.

Embellished Dialogue Tags Can Be Frustrating For Editors and Readers

The guy above could be an editor who wonders why writers can't write simple dialogue without constantly embellishing the tags with them. In case anyone does not know what a dialogue tag is--it's the he said or she said that accompanies the spoken words.

One of the big mistakes some writers make is to tack on an adverb to each tag. An adverb describes a verb; it lets the reader know how the character delivered the dialogue. Examples below:

1. "Look at what you've done," Mary said heatedly.

2. "I love you more than you;ll ever know," Susan said softly.

3. "Don't ever speak to me like that again," John said angrily.

Most editors prefer that you omit those adverbs. You might add a simple phrase after the tag such as:

"Look at what you've done," Mary said. She slapped the table with a shaking hand.

Or just leave the tag as 'Mary said.' Whatever preceded the piece of dialogue should have told the reader that she was angry. Using a constant barrage of these adverbs ends up with telling instead of showing. If you're unsure, it's better to skip those adverbs altogether. If you must use them, do it sparingly. 

The main thing to remember is that the actual dialogue is the most important thing that you're writing. The tag is there but it's only meant to keep the characters sorted out as to who said what. 

Some writers are wary of using the he said/she said tag multiple times. Most editors will tell you that it's alright to use it over and over, as readers tend to register it but not pay all that much attention to it. It's just a way to allow you to know who is speaking--Marilyn, Steve, Mr. Jones, or even the oft-used he or she. A brain is a wonderful tool--it can learn to register who is speaking the piece of dialogue, yet skip right over the tag so it doesn't become irritating.

If the dialogue section is lengthy, you can omit the he said/she said off and on if it's obvious to the reader who is speaking. 

Next time you read a novel, or creative nonfiction that uses dialogue, pay attention to how the writer handled the tags. Do you like what the author did? Or did it become an aggravation? What method do you like best?