The Perils of Pro Crits

After taking some time off from work to concentrate on my writing, I decided I wanted to get some serious feedback on the current draft, as well as to test the water to see if it resonated or affected anyone else but me. I was at that stage where I had exhausted all my ideas for improving it, and needed some critical input while I tried to establish my own distance from the work. I felt that more needed to be done, I was just too close to see what it was.

I uploaded it to youwriteon and authonomy, and decided to invest in a 'professional' manuscript assessment. This wasn't a decision I came to lightly, I had already had a huge amount of feedback on previous drafts both from youwriteon and the IWW, as well as my local writers' group, Arvon writer's course etc. and I hoped that a professional assessment would give me a clear idea of what would need to be done with the draft to make it publishable, and I considered it to be the next logical step.

The Literary Consultancy had been on my radar for some time – a couple of published writers had recommended them in articles, most of the big publishing houses have links to them on their websites, I'd found an example review on a website, and Rebecca Swift from the consultancy had written an article in the 2010 Writers and Artists Handbook – so I felt reasonably confident that if I was going to do it, these would be the guys to go to.

I told myself that it would be a gamble, and that the review I received may be of no use to me, but it may also prove invaluable, and I decided to take that gamble, and fork out the 150 quid.

I tried to convince myself that I was under no illusions.

Trouble is, as I waited for that review, its significance increased with each passing day – I felt that I couldn't start re-writes until I'd received it, I couldn't really consider other 'amateur' feedback until I'd read it –etc, etc – until eventually my whole writing world hung on that assessment.

Perhaps the writing was on the wall. You cannot engage with The Literary Consultancy before submitting and paying for the review – they assign your work to a reader without discussion and only when they receive your cheque along with your manuscript – so it's more like applying for a job than paying for a service – a stance I assume they justify in that they consider themselves as 'scouts' for leading literary agents. I wouldn't pay blind for any other service, so why this one?

Responses take 4-8 weeks – and mine took nearly all of 8 weeks to arrive.

My heart sank when in the first paragraph the reviewer referred to the opening chapters of my novel as a short story – a mistake he quickly rectified later in the review, but a clear indication that this opening section had been cut and pasted from a previous review, and he hadn't even bothered to re-read what he'd written – not a clear indication of the thoroughness I'd hoped for, and laughable when considering that I'm paying for this guy to review my writing.

The review starts with an introduction, then two pages of general observations, then a page of specific observations giving line numbers, then a general summary.

The General comments come under the sections Structure and Narrative; Narrative and Style; Characters and Empathy, Writing and Dialogue.

Well, long story short, he panned it in all sections, with not one positive observation in any of them other than the general 'you've obviously worked hard' etc in the introduction and general summary.

So, to summarise, I need to re-plot the novel, change the voice, change the MC, and re-work the dialogue.

That may in fact all be true but the truth is, having had plenty of time to reflect, there is very little I can take from this review of practical use – some example solutions I'm advised to attempt: 'don't try too hard', 'go with the flow', etc.

While presumably there are some nuggets of truth buried within it, they are not clear to me, despite repeated attempts to derive them, and because the reviewer clearly disliked everything about the book and struggled to engage with it, I wouldn't be inclined to take his advice even if I could glean any to take.

To say I was despondent after finally receiving what I'd paid for is an understatement, but reading the one star reviews of my critics book on Amazon certainly helped me get over it.

Curiously the next day I felt wonderfully inspired and liberated - I came to realise that I couldn't look to anybody else to 'fix' my novel, it had to come from me alone – so perhaps it was worth the 150 quid to re-affirm that to myself.

Conclusion? You'll get far more useful advice for free elsewhere.

Write Club – a guide to apostolic fiction

Inspiration can come from the most unexpected places.

I have been struggling with finding a way of binding the two central characters' narratives in my novel, to write them in such a way that re-enforces the story, but demonstrates their uniqueness as characters – a task made more difficult by the fact the novel is in written in first-person POV.

So I dug out all the books that I wished I'd written – One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, The Great Gatsby, Fight Club – and it was something that Chuck Palahniuk said in his preface to my edition of Fight Club that started me thinking toward the solution to my problem.

Chuck basically said he felt he was writing a modern-day Great Gatsby, that he considered The Great Gatsby and Fight Club to be 'apostolic' fiction, where a prophet writes about an admired character, producing a gospel if you like about that character's life – and I realised this is essentially what is happening in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest too.

And then I began to see a way into solving my problem – the two character narratives did not have to be distinct, I could introduce an apostolic element, whereby Jack, my main character, talks about Anson, the man who comes to have such an immense impact on his life within his own narrative. It would require a slight splicing of time-lines, but it would solve the problem, without necessarily breaking the more classic narrative of the main story.

I couldn't sleep that night thinking about it, and the next day I rewrote the opening chapter – and I love it. Thanks Chuck, and here's to apostolic fiction.

Looking that gift-horse in the mouth

Someone at my writer's group said last week that feedback was a 'gift' - which would suggest that being up for review is rather like Christmas come early. Sometimes it feels more like a firing squad, except they're not trying to give you a quick, painless death, but blowing little bits off you piece-by-piece until you just wish you were dead.

If your Christmas is anything like the gift-giving orgy that mine seems to have become then along with the few things you really, really want, or the rare gifts that surprise you with their usefulness, there's also an awful lot of stuff that needs to go straight down the charity shop.

Trouble is with feedback, it's hard to know which is which. What you may need to hear is not necessarily what you want to hear. There's a couple of maxims I've heard that have an element of truth: pick the feedback that resonates; if more than one person says it, fix it; but still, you can't please everybody, and as Peggy Riley discusses in her excellent blog post, it's very easy to lose your way when rewriting.

And I guess that's where we come close to the nub of it – it's easy to dismiss criticism as subjective, but the reality is, all the choices we make as writers are subjective ones - some writers would argue they don't make choices at all, they just write, which only re-enforces the point – but what we need to improve the work is objective responses, and there lies what I think is the problem – if the reviewer doesn't understand the subjective intention of the writer, it's very difficult for them to give an objective view on whether they've achieved that – particularly as a lot of the time the writer isn't even sure what his artistic intention is.

I think we all know, as writers, what we like or don't like about fiction, and we can see it when we observe other writer's work, but the truth is, it's hard for us to look at our own work with the same cold, dispassionate eye - to attain that all-elusive critical distance – which is why we end up turning to others.

As writers, it's worth remembering that if we ever get these bloody things published, then anybody can print or publish an opinion on it without concern for how we might feel about it, so it's probably best to hear the worst now, however ill-considered, when we still have an opportunity to address it in the writing, or ignore it, after serious thought, with confidence.

And it's worth running the gauntlet of local and online critique groups in the search for those one or two people who really come to understand our artistic intention, and have the language and skills to explain when it works and when it doesn't in a way that doesn't break our hearts too cruelly.

But perhaps the biggest lesson to learn here is to treat other writers' work in the same way you'd like yours to be treated, and give feedback with good grace; even though it might not be well received at first, if you've thought long and tried hard to engage with the text, the writer will thank you eventually.

Here's my three stage approach to giving good feedback, developing skills in these three areas also improves our ability to develop our own work:

1. Try to recognise areas in the writing that need improving or don't work.
2. Try to understand why this is the case in order to explain to the writer.
3. Try to offer solutions to these problems.

The only way to develop these skills is to seriously critique other peoples work - only by learning to spot problems in other people's work can you learn to spot problems in your own. When critiquing, you must perform the stages in the order presented. It is no use presenting a solution to a writer when you haven't explained what is wrong. The ordering of the stages also reflects the usefulness to the writer – if a problem is well enough understood, then the solution will present itself to any writer worth their salt.

And as for achieving critical distance? Well that's another post…

Ten books on writing I couldn't live without

Story - Robert McKee
Ostensibly about screen writing, but essentially dealing with the mechanics of crafting a story. This book was a real eye-opener for me, and taught me that there's a hell of a lot more behind writing than just the words. Essential reading.


Stein on Writing - Sol Stein
You can't really argue with Sol - takes a refreshingly un-wishy-washy approach to the craft, and has the balls to offer hard-and-fast solutions to a lot of writerly problems. Some of the examples are a bit ropey, but there's good, refreshingly direct advice here.


Plot and Structure - James Scott Bell
Good, digestible overview of plot structures - summarises a number of schools of thought, including that dealt with in much more detail by McKee, and provides a useful overview of methods for producing plots, both 'outside in' and 'inside out'.




Characters and Viewpoint - Orson Scott Car
Worth it for the fantastic section on Viewpoint alone - finally brought me to a complete understanding of POV, and the subtleties of omniscience vs limited. The best discussion I've ever seen on the subject.



Becoming a Novelist - John Gardner
John makes writing a religion, and this is a bible. Outlines the characteristics of a writer. I empathised with every word. Read this book, and welcome to the club.



The Art of Fiction - David Lodge
A collection of articles by the venerable Mr Lodge - some of them are simply superb and wonderfully educative, and introduced me to concepts like 'de-familiarisation'. A must read.



The Writer's Journey - Christopher Volger
Uses Joseph Campbell's 'The Hero with a Thousand Faces' to provide a system for crafting hero-quest plots, using the mono-myth outlined by Campbell. If you want a universal story, here's a good place to start. Interestingly applies the idea to a number of hugely successful films.


Self-Editing for Fiction Writers - Rennie Brown and Dave King
The title says it all, and it does exactly what it says. What's particularly useful about this is that it's skewed to fiction writers, and unlike some books on editing I've read, is actually an enjoyable, as well as instructive, read.



Writing a Novel - Nigel Watts
Surprised to find this such a illuminating book due to the fact that it's part of a general 'teach yourself' range, but a very good overview of issues facing writers and good solid advice in all areas.



How Not to Write a Novel - Howard Mittelmark & Sandra Newman
A refreshingly light-hearted approach to the business of writing, but serious advice presented. Easy to read and forget that you're actually learning something in the meantime. The advice is presented in easily digestible chunks so a good one to read 'on the go.' Excellent.

So I quit the job

I started writing this novel because I was tired – tired of reading what the publishers were publishing, tired of reading what the British literary establishment was saying I should read – The Mann-Booker prize, the Costa prize, Whitbread prize, The Guardian Review, Richard and Judy. None of these books really spoke to me. None of these books talked to me about my life, about my time, about my truth.

Which is why, four years ago or thereabouts, I started writing this novel – a lot of stuff has happened in that time – our government took us into a war nobody believed in or wanted and we were powerless to do anything about, we've hit a world shattering recession, gas is already being rationed for some UK businesses, the end of the world is apparently just round the corner and it's all our fault – except this time we can feel it, see it.

All of these things, I believe, infuse the work. Driving to work each day, feeling like I was bailing the boat out while the tsunami approaches, feeling like I was seeing out my time, limping to my grave.

And I thought, I can't be alone in this…

So I wrote about finding majesty in the mundane, nurturing the flame of love in a heartless world, finding purpose in a meaningless existence – universal issues through one man's eyes.

So, it started about me, but not anymore – it's about you, or rather 'us'. I've learnt that to write is not about the writer, it's about the reader. Otherwise it's pointless.

Read the opening chapters - if you can't stand it, let me know - it all helps.

And if you read it and love it, then thank you - that helps too.

Four years since I've started counting, four years of thinking, writing, reworking. Four years of going to bed every night shattered in the pursuit of this story.

And I'm not going to stop until it's done.

Oh my word - I've done it - created my blog and this is my first post. Just going to fiddle around and make it look a bit more presentable.