brave criticism

One of the things that I am most proud of about myself is that I’m open to criticism. My husband will argue with me about that bold and generic statement, so I’m going to narrow it down to mean criticism about my writing, especially at the drafting and editing stage. I specifically ask for help from people who are not afraid to tell me what they think  my work needs. And this can be very scary. I have to consciously open myself up to receive it.

But I need to pause for a second and applaud those Neville Longbottoms of the world who stand up to their friends. You are brave. Directly telling a writer in the drafting and editing stage that a part of her creative baby falls flat takes guts. Or, at least, I think it does, because often we writers identify so much with our projects that we can take criticism of it as criticism of us. Then we can get defensive and shut down and not see what the reader is trying to say.

I recognize, too, that sometimes the work just isn’t for that reader. Either the reader doesn’t like that particular idea/genre/trope and isn’t the right fit for criticism, or the reader has some other agenda. In those cases, steer clear. That’s not a workable critique partner.

But when you find a reader who likes your writing but is unafraid to tell you how to make it better, that’s gold. I have several such readers, and one of them I know is scared to work with other authors because they’ve lashed out at her suggestions.  The way I see it is her suggestions are that—suggestions. But I don’t discount any of them, because so often there’s a deeper issue that she senses and struggles to articulate (that I haven’t even seen). Perhaps the fix she recommends doesn’t quite fit with the vision of my book, but there’s generally an intuitive feel that something’s off, and if I get to the bottom of that, it can make the book so much better.

I’ve been editing my mm book for weeks and pushing my betas past their comfort zone because this isn’t what they usually read. But despite the protestations (“I’m not sure what is the usual protocol here but I feel like…”), they have been incredible, and I’ve learned so much from their comments.

One comment in particular has stuck with me. She thought one of my characters wasn’t being respectful of the other as to a certain plot point, and she was totally right. I hadn’t seen it because I was looking at other issues. And she reminded me that in any relationship, respect is a two-way street. I added a few lines, deleted a few others, and I think I fixed the problem.

But she’s also hit on a bigger point.

I need to show respect back to beta readers, editors, alpha readers, and critique feedback partners who help me. I see you putting yourself out there to tell me your opinions. And maybe you’re scared of delivering “bad” news to me. Perhaps you don’t like something, be it a word or a line or a whole concept or character or book. But I also see how you deliver this news with respect, and I wanted to tell you that I respect you right back. Because, after all, books are for the readers.

In some ways, it is true that the reader (“customer”) is always right, because she knows what she wants to read, and will let you know if a published book meets expectations or not. Those criticisms I can’t pay much attention to, because I can’t do anything about them once the book is out there. At least, I personally am not going to change the text, although I might learn something for the next time around.

But at this malleable, creative stage, I’m so grateful for your bravery and welcome it. Thank you.