As we begin this episode of The Zealot, it is 2007 and we are at the Indiana Writer’s
Center. As you may remember, I had
signed up for a class taught by David Hassler.
(yes, the same one on this blog)
As I recall, it was a six week, one night a week course. It really tore into the nuts and bolts of
fiction writing and I loved it. When we
reached the last night, David talked about a group he belonged to that met on
the first and third Wednesdays of every month.
He called it a fiction critiquing group.
He suggested that if there was anyone in the class who had a short story
or a novel or was thinking about writing one to show up and check out the
group.
I
couldn’t believe my luck. This sounded
exactly like what I had been looking for.
I had just spent six weeks with this guy and he was very sharp and knew
his stuff. Now he was telling me he ran
this critiquing group. If this group was
as good as he was, they could help me with my novel. I didn’t get what I needed downtown. I owed it to myself to at least go check them
out. David suggested to me to come
observe and not submit the first time out.
Duh! Good move.
I did
go to observe at the next meeting. I was
stunned when I walked in to the meeting that first night. I thought I had gone to testosterone
heaven. It was like The Dead Poet’s Society. It was
a room of seven guys. Oh my God!! We could belch and fart to our heart’s
content. We could break out cigars and
die in the smoke. Moments later my heart
sank and my dreams were shattered when one woman walked through the door. (and
no, this was before Heather) David had me introduce myself and explain what I
was working on. We then went around the
room, each person doing the same. David
finished the introductions, telling about himself and explaining the rules of
the group. Rules? There are rules? How very sophisticated of you, I thought. You are about to rip into each other, but you
are going to do it in a sophisticated way with a smile on your face? Right.
I have to see this. Trust me,
there was nothing sophisticated about it.
I decided to submit the first two chapters of
my novel to the group for the next meeting.
Don’t ask me why. For some
sadistic reason, I had a bigger need inside me to get my manuscript fixed than
to worry about bloodshed. When we got
started that night, they decided my piece needed to go first. How nice of them. I remember them smiling. I know now from being an experienced member
of the group, they enjoyed it. One by
one, they politely ripped into my flesh.
They mentioned terms such as POV, present tense, passive voice, too many
characters in a scene, too many character’s name that sounded similar, and
after that my brain shut down.
My history of chronic pain was
taking over at that point and my brain was telling my legs to get the hell out
of there before my arms killed someone.
Anger began to surge through my body.
Didn’t these people know the time I put into this? Didn’t they know every human who had read
this up till now had loved it? Obviously
these people were morons. No wait, it
gets better. They are using terms that I
don’t know what they meant. And then
when they were done with me, they sat
and smiled at me.
Are you kidding me? David looked at me and politely, in an Ivy
League way, and asked, “Do you have any questions?” I’m thinking, “Really? Do I have any questions? Yeah, I do.
Lots of them. First one is, would
you guys go off and die?” Of course I
don’t ask any because I’m an inexperienced idiot and I don’t know what to
ask. At least I’m smart enough to know
that. I just shake my head no. Steam rolls out my ears. Then David smiles again and says, “Well,
according to the rules, you pick the next one we critique and you start the
comments.” Can this get better? I don’t know what I’m doing. They just proved that. Now I’m supposed to rip someone else. How the hell am I supposed to do this? I can hardly wait to do another evening of
this. I haven’t had this much fun since the
last time I threw up.
LOL, we've all been through that harrowing first time! You forgot to mention the bourbon, though....
ReplyDeleteI don't remember smiling. :D
ReplyDeleteYeah, well, you still don't smile Mike.
ReplyDeleteI wish I had been there! Keith, this made me laugh out loud, but it also makes me ask myself (again) why we go through this and why we put ourselves through this. Continually.
ReplyDeleteIt does get better? Sort of?
Now, now, Heather. You know the answer to that one. Let me put on my Dr. Phil hat for a moment. We do this for several reasons, but the biggest reason is because this group makes us much better writers and this process, at least for me, gave me a PH. D. in thick skin and creative writing. My next post will be very difficult for me because I will give up the humor and talk about the group and what those first few critiques were REALLY like for me, both good and bad. Heather, we have to face the criticism head-on and learn from it. Some of it is correct and some of it is not. We are the ones who choose to act on the information or not. No one is forcing us to use it. The group is there giving their critiques as a learning experience as well and out as a form of love, both of the writer and the craft.
ReplyDeleteI think it's one of those elements of the hard work we have to do if we really have that commitment to making our writing the best it can be. As you said, Keith, we have to separate the wheat from the chaff, but even what we may consider the chaff will sneak up on us weeks or months later and smack us with the insight it grants us. Does being critiqued sting sometimes? Sure, but beyond that initial sting we ideally will recognize that opening ourselves to accurate, concise, detailed criticism is one of the best ways we can improve our writing. Sort of like the pain of working out and testing your muscles and cardio, knowing it is the best--maybe the only--way to improve. So, are we serious about our writing and willing to open up and welcome the medicine, or are we simply hobbyists having a grin or two...and then retreating when the labor gets too tough?
ReplyDelete