Nonny > [Critters] is a large time committment, and I no longer have that time to spare.
Amen to that. I myself go in waves; seven days of mass critting followed by weeks of ignoring the whole thing.
The ignorance and wishful thinking displayed in Mr. Rice's post reminded me of a college friend who wrote to Tom Clancy, proposing a collaboration; or, if Mr. Clancy didn't have time, could he please just send all his research materials to Dave K., c/o the Browning Hall Dorm Monitor?
Teachers aren't necessarily a help, either (I know, I know, don't throw things at me). Education, particularly at the college level, is a business as much as it's a craft, and if you get a teacher who's just sitting around collecting a paycheck, and gives credit simply for filling up the requisite number of pages, nobody learns anything.
My technical editor (I'm the style editor for a line of motorcycle repair manuals) thinks he's a terrific writer--he got straight A's in his English comp class at the community college. He gave me his history final project to read (and supposedly crit). I edited it just as I would one of our tech books--for grammar and clarity.
It was unreadable. It contained, commas, in strange places. Utilizing megolith verbiage was in inappropriate locations, nevertheless the writer, despite having put numerous man-hours, into crafting this masterpiece, revealed himself to have a dreadful tin ear. I can't even replicate it. Nominalizations are so foreign to me I can't even fake them.
The technical editor and I are still on good working terms, but we don't talk about writing anymore. Given the quality of the text we edit in the manuals, I've often wondered if it was a case of GIGO.
Teachers aren't necessarily a help, either (I know, I know, don't throw things at me). Education, particularly at the college level, is a business as much as it's a craft, and if you get a teacher who's just sitting around collecting a paycheck, and gives credit simply for filling up the requisite number of pages, nobody learns anything.
My technical editor (I'm the style editor for a line of motorcycle repair manuals) thinks he's a terrific writer--he got straight A's in his English comp class at the community college. He gave me his history final project to read (and supposedly crit). I edited it just as I would one of our tech books--for grammar and clarity.
It was unreadable. It contained, commas, in strange places. Utilizing megolith verbiage was in inappropriate locations, nevertheless the writer, despite having put numerous man-hours, into crafting this masterpiece, revealed himself to have a dreadful tin ear. I can't even replicate it. Nominalizations are so foreign to me I can't even fake them.
The technical editor and I are still on good working terms, but we don't talk about writing anymore.
In defense of Critters:
I've been a member there about five months. I also have a real-life writers group, which I've been with for about four years (a couple of them are semi-pros, agented by Budrys--a little out-of-date, but still legit).
I went into Critters with very low expectations, because I've been in several writers groups and yes, I've seen how bad the slush can get, including the neurochemical disorders. Nevertheless, I joined Critters because I had seen it mentioned here, because I liked the organization of it, and because my summer schedule was going to keep me away from my RL group.
Do I spend more time critting than being critted? Yeah. Is that any different from a RL group? No. If there are ten people in the group on a Saturday and everybody brings a story, odds are you're going to read five or six of them, and crit them, before they get to your story at the end of the day.
Critters is nice because it gives you a wide cross-section of your audience. Horror, SF and fantasy all gets lumped together, just like in Locus. It's kind of like selling your product at Wal-Mart; sooner or later, somebody from every walk of life is going to pass by. Some of them won't like what you're selling, some of them are looking for exactly that item, but the point is exposure--and if you can get the attention of people who *didn't* come looking for your product, so much the better.
I quickly learned that *how many* crits you got on Critters was just as important as what they said. If you get 20 or 25 crits on your story, when the average is 10, you must be doing something right, because people are interested enough to finish reading--the bad ones barely get critted at all. Furthermore, if each crit starts with, "Hey, this is a great read, I'd just change this one little thing--" you can also assume you're doing something right; subsequent comments may be assimilated or dismissed as needed.
If I get contradictory comments, I generally assume they cancel each other out, and don't worry about it. If I get a consensus, I take it seriously.
The other nice thing about Critters is it's fairly anonymous. People don't look at me and make assumptions about the kind of story it's going to be. I find myself more open-minded toward the text in front of me. Plus, writing a crit, as opposed to delivering it in a round-table, requires precision and gives you time to digest your impressions. Most writers I know are far more eloquent on paper than in person. Personally, I have no fear of public speaking, but it can be hard to think on your feet when the author is looking all eager and crushable and is apt to jump to conclusions.
This wasn't intended to contradict anything Nonny said; I've encountered some of those same problems on Critters. But I thought it only fair to provide an alternate point of view. For anyone thinking of joining Critters or another peer writer's group, bear in mind that writers are also readers, and even if somebody's writing isn't as good as yours, they probably have a legitimate idea of what works as entertainment. I've even had people tell me something was written well, but it left them with a "so-what?" feeling, which is certainly legit.
My advice? Use a peer group to test-market the story. Rely on Strunk and White, King, et al to help you with the mechanics.
One final point: Critter Joy Remy just got published in this year's Writers of the Future Anthology. Make of that what you will. Diff'rent strokes, etc.
"And if anyone will tell me what this one is all about, I’ll be much obliged."
I'm fairly sure they're Truffula Trees.
The bits that make me cackle with glee tend to be the ones that came as total surprises to me.
Me too.
Re: Kirkus, maybe I'm just being cranky this morning, but I say, if some idiot wants to pay to have his lousy book reviewed, let him! It's going to go in a separate place from the "real" reviews, so none of us will have to be bothered by them unless we go out of our way (or go looking for sick thrills, and I know some of you here are thinking about it). Besides, Kirkus isn't guaranteeing they'll say anything nice about said book. Getting reviewed in Publisher's Weekly isn't a guarantee you'll get a good plug, either.
Maybe Kirkus will retract this offer when they start being inundated with self-published slush for review. Or maybe it will make them money, who knows? From time to time I've considered doing the same thing on my blog: offer to post reviews, for a price. Given that only five people on the planet read my blog, if some author is dumb and desperate enough to pay me for my typing and sarcasm skills, more power to 'em. And more money for me.
I could put an ad on ebay.
I hope to God if I ever get into print, I have the sense not to read the readers' reviews on Amazon. I may have to have my husband hide the modem.
Oh good. Since you're talking about scams and myths (again), I wondered what y'all would make of this "properties management" company, being started by the former President of Marvel Comics.
It's sort of an agency, but not. And a lot like the internal property-acquisitions department of a large movie studio, but not. If they were in traditional publishing, I'd call them a book packager, but they're not. Are there any other examples of this kind of thing, extant?
I just had an awful thought. People are already sending me spam with phony email addresses, purporting to be people I know (most notably TNH and Jane Yolen). How long until I start getting calls from people I don't want to talk to, by using the numbers of people I do want to talk to?
BTW, is there a simple way to disguise one's email address from spam robots, when posting on blogs like this one? Most of the spam I get seems to come from old posts here--which is why I don't post all that often any more.
I'm glad you don't remember me saying anything silly, T. The first night of a Con tends to be a big blur for me, afterwards.
Somebody asked about dressing for the climate in the hotel, and I felt compelled to suggest, "layers."
The last con I attended, it was 60 degrees in the main convention area--the ballroom, art room, and three main programming rooms. This was great during the masquerade, as I was perfectly comfortable in full Victorian dress--corsets and all.
On the party floor, however, it was less great. The hotel was apparently turning off the A/C on the unused floors to save money, so all that heat went straight up to the 11th floor. It was easily 80 degrees in the halls and the consuite, even before the bodies started rolling in around 9 pm.
So, wear a tank top, and take a sweater.
Hey, everybody, I got a strange piece of email in my Yahoo bulk folder this morning. The filter read it as spam, but it came from Jane Yolen's AOL address (janeyolen@aol.com). The subject line says "read it immediately" and there is a text file attached, but I'm reluctant to open it because there's no real reason for Jane Yolen to be sending me cryptic email. The only connection between us (that I know of) is this blog, in fact. So Jane, be warned you may have a virus, or somebody is piggybacking off your email address.
That restoration particle reminded me of this guy's Victorian house restoration project. Very graphics-heavy, but a fascinating read.
BA in English. Started out as a French Lit major, though. Lucky I quit when I did, eh?
I actually work as an editor, in the trade publishing industry. In fact I went back to college, after 3 years away, to get the degree that proved I was qualified to get the job I wanted. Although the irony of that is, I got hired because of my breadth of computer skills, none of which I learned in William Jewell's English department.
And as far as a degree equalling qualifications, I am continually amazed at how my coworkers, English majors all, do not understand what passive voice is.
Calimac. Good to know the name for it. I seem to only suffer from it when writing. I once wrote in a story, "Captain Black was not the kind of commander to punish his troops for any minor infarction."
My writer's group had a fine time with that one.
I have most of the feminine accomplishments, *except* embroidery. My particular insanity is sewing, specifically costuming.
Apropos of the time period discussed herein, for the Con circuit this year I've been making an 1878-1883 "natural form" dinner suit. In researching said project I kept wondering why so many of the museum exibit dresses were black or dark brown. How drab, especially given that the styles were so ornate and flashy.
Now I know: because mourning colors were the fashion. The Queen said it must be so. Still drab. Blech. I mean, I wear more black than anybody I know, but I still manage to get some color in my wardrobe.
Something else that costumers should note: black does not photograph well. If you dress is black, no one will be able to see all the kilometers of ruffles you hand-pleated into place.
Paula: I never met Dee Willis personally, but I knew who she was and I have some idea of the contributions she made to the KCSF community. Please accept my condolences.
Thanks, Lenora and Mitch. After some reflection, and reading your comments, I think it's not fear of success that's my problem at all. I have fear of failure. Things have always come easily to me, and I am something of a spoiled brat who doesn't want to pay the same dues as everybody else.
Well, February is over and I am done bitching for another 11 months. Thank you for your support.
Oh, and I put the MS in the mail this weekend, too.
Tina said: I dated someone -- briefly -- who held this view and took it one better: he said he would never let an editor change anything he wrote.
Ditto, babe. My grandfather said the same thing, couple years ago, after my mom and I went over his MS with red pens. He also said, "Editors are supposed to ENCOURAGE writers, not tell them what they did wrong."
Ahem.
Re: writing the wrong book, I can take a stab at that one.
Example one:
Say you really like reading SF and horror. But your college prof instills in you a deep shame of your interest in spec fic and convinces you that the only noble goal is literary fiction (whatever the hell that is).
So you write a perfectly competent contemporary novel, full of fleshed-out characters, subtle imagery, and nonlinear plotting, all carefully crafted in the image of Faulkner. Your prof loves it. Your classmates praise it. You send it off to one publisher after another and they all send it back with, "Great writing, but it just doesn't work somehow." (In cases where there is an overwhelming editorial consensus, you should take it seriously.)
It doesn't work because your heart's not in it. Trust me. I know this. You need to drop the literary pretentions, which aren't really yours anyway, and get on with writing the stuff that inspires you.
Example two:
Your first novel will not retire quietly. Maybe you wrote it in college. Or high school. Or junior high. Maybe you've rewritten it every year for the last ten. You know it was bad back then, but it's so much better now.
The truth is, it's not. It's like pie crust that's been worked too long. It's tough. No layers. No nice lumpy bumps to make it interesting. Your first manuscript is like your first child: it's going to be screwed up, no matter how hard you try--probably because you're trying too hard, and it will fight your attempts to straighten it out.
Now, I'm not saying never to revise, but I have seen stories that were just plain worked to death. Stories have to be fairly fresh and new to be engaging. You have to be excited about it, or we won't be.
Furthermore, while a writer's skills usually improve with time, often the concept of a first novel is simply too weak to build a story upon, and no amount of embellishing will completely disguise the fact.
It's the wrong novel. Love it for what it is, but leave it in the back of the drawer and write something new, with a better foundation. Something you're passionate about.
Something in my desk drawer is whimpering.
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| 2004 | 23 |
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