Dear Convention Abby

Dear Convention Abby;

Boy, does that title sound like something other than what you mean. I have a confession to make: I am all out of conference and convention stories. Horror or otherwise. What I do have in a similar vein revolves around the biggest mistakes I've ever made with a critique group. Possibly groups.

1. Getting defensive - sure, sure, I knew intellectually that no one signed up to critique my stuff just for the joy of burning my work to the ground. Anyone reading was honestly trying to help make a story better. But I got all huffy and defensive and kept explaining that they didn't understand. I was right. My crit partners didn't understand. Because I hadn't put what was in my head on the paper they held in their hands. Convention Abby replies: Dear Defensive, Dear Convention Abby hears the one about convention nuns all the time. It's not funny anymore. If ever it was. However, kudos to you for identifying one of your core issues - realizing that your only chance to explain anything to anyone is in putting the words on the paper (virtual or otherwise) in their hot little hands. There's another one: Closing your mouth on the urge to defend. Communication styles differ and you won't mesh with everyone all the time, but your critique group's feedback should be constructive, not destructive, and you should respect your group enough to listen to their opinions - not take them blindly - allow room for critiquers to voice opinions without defensive interruption. If you can't respect your group, find another one.
2. Not asking questions - Greatest question ever: 'Any suggestions for how to fix it?' asked when someone identifies a problem in my work that blindsides me. I'm not asking anyone to do the work for me. I'm looking for more information about the problem from as many angles as I can get. I'm also looking for mental prompts that nudge my brain from deer-in-the-headlights to problem-solving. Dear Convention Abby disagrees with Not Asking Questions. The single greatest question ever is "Red, White, or Rose?"
3. Staying with a group too long - A good critique group is hard to find, and it often seems that the only way to find a good one is to go through a couple of bad ones. Not that the people are bad. Or that their intentions aren't good. Bad for me turned out to be a perfect storm of things: too many of us all being at the same writing level while one member was far enough ahead in skill level that the rest of us had nothing to offer her. In return, her critiques were too far over our heads. We kept at it anyway. Until the resentment got to be too much and the group imploded. The next 'bad' group is a good group you've outgrown. Everyone absorbs information at their own pace. If you learn quickly, chances are 50/50 that you'll outgrow at least one of your initial critique groups. Not a problem if there's no resentment involved either on your part or on the part of those still struggling. Dear Convention Abby would like to point out to Staying With a Group Too Long: There is another aspect you must face and that is being left behind by those who have outstripped your skill. It will happen. Never is that a comment on you or your writing. It is 100% about the needs of the writer leaving you in his or her dust. Brush yourself off, keep writing and repeat after me: "It's not personal." Unless, of course, you made sure it WAS personal...not a course that Dear Convention Abby recommends. Also, never stay with a  group whose members are not working. Everyone has off days that stretch into weeks or months. But if the writing dry spells go on too long, you do not belong to a critique group. You belong to a social club.
4. Failing to be gentle and constructive when offering feedback on someone else's work. Want to feel 2" tall? Be a bit harsh and see one of your critique partners cry in response. O_o Dear Convention Abby feels your pain. Constructive means identifying the good as well as the bad in a story. A good rule of thumb when you identify an issue in a story and always offer up a potential solution as a good faith gesture that you aren't saying the story or writing sucks. "You could fix this by . . . " This forces you to learn to solve problems as you identify them. But beware assuming that your suggested fix is the right fix. Offer up your suggestions and let go. It's not your story.

Thanks, Dear Convention Abby! Glass of wine? These are by no means all of the mistakes that can be (or have been) made with critique groups. They merely top the list. Do you have critique group mistakes you're willing to admit to? I'll bring the wine.

Seven Deadly Sins of Writing - Pride

Aren't these clouds amazing? They hung over the eastern horizon during sunset, so this is all reflected light.

There's something about reflected light that's softer, more subtle than light directly from the source. The sun burns in exothermic glory, sending life-giving radiation into the universe, while the moon reflects it back, modulating the colors, mirroring the shine from the other side of the world to brighten our nights.

Two faces of the coin, which is how the Seven Deadly Sins also work. What can be a virtue can also be a tragic flaw. Take pride, for example.

Pride can be confusing because it's important to have pride in ourselves and in our work. If we're not proud of the work we do, there's a problem. If we don't take pride in ourselves, other people can treat us as doormats. American culture in particular is built on the precept that we can be proud of ourselves, regardless of our class, wealth or station in life.

We're forever telling our kids and spouses that we're proud of them. There are few compliments more moving than to hear that someone you care about and admire is proud of you. We tell each other, "hey, you finished a novel - you should be proud of that!"

So why is pride a sin?

Now, I'm going to back up and caveat that I come from a Catholic family. The Irish Catholic kind with aunts and uncles who are nuns and priests. My parents attended Catholic schools. Sin is a big deal in that kind of background. However, I'm not a practicing Catholic. I don't believe in original sin and I don't think I need to confess my sins to anyone. But sin is a far older idea than the Catholic church. As was the church's Borg-like method of assimilation, they co-opted older traditions into the canon.

Looked at that way, a sin is not failing grade on the Good Catholic report card that must be absolved before you can pass go, collect $200 and enter heaven. Instead, a sin is that thing which escapes your control that runs you instead of you running it.

You know the old saying "pride goeth before a fall"? (Yes, from Proverbs, but that's Old Testament, so predates the Catholic Church.) What that means is, if pride is running you, you'll lose that right before you suffer a loss. Because when pride runs us, we think we're above the slings and arrows that others suffer.

Not true.

So, what mistakes do writers make as a result of the tragic side of Pride?

• Thinking we've made it. A publication does not mean success. A three-book deal is not the E-Ticket to the Cinderella ride. Getting a book published means getting an entry-level job at the big corporation. Anyone who thinks differently is in for some pain.
• Believing we've succeeded because we're Just That Good. I think of this anytime some published author offers the advice to pre-pubs to "just write a really good book." This is especially noxious if it's their first book. Luck, serendipity and persistence are equally, if not more, important. Anyone who doesn't acknowledge that is fooling themselves.
• Pumping ourselves up at the expense of others. I've published with a better house than such-and-so. I write faster. I write more consistently. My books are in x genre which is far superior to y genre. My books do or don't feature this kind of element, therefore mine are more erudite. I don't have to say more on this, right?
• Being too proud to take advice. This is a hard one, because it dances near to the line of knowing when to stand up for your work, and when to recognize that someone else sees what you don't. But this post is about extremes - so those Big Name writers who decided they're Far Too Wonderful to be edited? I'm looking at you.

In all of these, sustaining pride becomes more important than the thing we were proud of in the first place.

Any other ways you all see writers letting pride get in the way?

Mistakes Were Made

by Allison Pang

The problem with determining career mistakes is that so often we don't realize what they are until it’s too late. Sometimes it's not even a mistake as much an issue with timing. If only we'd done X, or said Y, maybe things would have turned out differently.

I suppose I've done some of those more typical writing ones. Like Jeffe, I queried too early  - though I somehow got ridiculously lucky...but I admit to feeling a tad overwhelmed during my first set of live pitches. Especially given that I had just finished the rough draft to A Brush of Darkness the week before. And of course everyone told me, that hey - the editors would ask for the first three chapters and I'd have all summer to polish it up, yadda yadda yadda. And of course, one of the editors asked for the full. Which sent me into a tailspin over the next few weeks and months as I busted my ass to try to polish the book. 

And that was a bit of a disaster (you can ask Jeffe - she was my beta during that time frame.) But I did the best I could and sent it off...and heard nothing. Which spurred me into doing another round of revisions at a better pace -but I'd learned my lesson there. Query nothing before its time, as they say. 

In the meantime, though, I think my biggest mistake actually had to do with a co-writing project I'd started before BoD. And I know I've talked about this in the past, but there are still days when I can't help but think I should have done things differently. 

As noted above - projects often have different baking times.  Although some of my fondest memories were working on this novel with a co-writer, we had different perspectives – on genre, on heat level…and on the story itself. 

Not that it started out that way, of course. Like most things, it started out fun. But over time, we grew apart, both in direction and commitment. Part of that may have been because we didn’t have a specific plan in mind when we started the project…but in the end it was because we were “cooking” at different temperatures. 

Neither of us was published, but at some point for me it was no longer just a project between friends. I wanted to get published. I wanted this project to be the vehicle that got us there. 

And I tried my damnest to make that happen. But the more I tried to force it, the less she wanted to do it. And there’s things that are more personal that probably contributed to that, but in the end she didn’t want what I wanted. Or at least not at the time I wanted it. 

Different cook times, as I said. 

The thing about mistakes though, is learning from them. As painful as that time was, I learned just how important it is to have the same goal when you’re working on project. Part of that is allowing things to unfold in their own time. 

(It’s a hard lesson to learn, but a good one for publishing in general – things happen in their own time and at their own pace.)

In the meantime, I’ve taken that lesson to heart, particularly with my new collab project – not only did I plan things out with my collaborator, but I’ve learned to let things slide a bit. 

Part of my issue the first time around is that I knew deep down that something was wrong…which led to a deep insecurity and resulted in me being a bit of a nag. I refuse to let that happen this time – I’ve got to trust that my collab partner will do her part as needed. At the very least, I’m a lot more relaxed about it and that’s a pretty good place to be.