Resolutions Writing Style

A popular post from January 2008

by Annette Lyon

As you begin a new year of writing, you might want to make making some writing-related resolutions.

First, take stock of what worked for you in 2007 and what didn't. Do daily word count goals fit your lifestyle? What about weekly ones? Do you work better by tracking chapters or pages rather than words? What system works best for you?

Second, set goals for yourself--goals that, while reachable do require you to stretch a little.

Last, decide on rewards for each goal you meet. It's amazing how a little incentive can help yourself plant your behind in the chair and your hands on the keyboard. Your inner writer is a child. Bribe it! (I find chocolate works well. And pedicures.)

Consider adding some of the following when making your list:

• Read. A lot. It helps me to keep a running log of all the books I've read in the year. I've done this every year for over a decade, and I try to at least match if not beat the number of titles from one year to the next. A good writer is a good reader. Be sure to include writing books in your list. And don't forget to read works in the genre you write in. Add one or two books that stretch you.
• Take regular outings to places that bring something new to your senses: try new foods, visit a museum, take long a walk through a strange neighborhood, go on vacation to a place you've never been before. Stimulation to the senses does marvels for creativity.
• Proof every query, cover letter, and manuscript you send out. Many times.
• To help you send out the cleanest material possible, learn your punctuation and grammar rules. (A funny and great place to start: Eats, Shoots, and Leaves, by Lynne Truss.)
• Get up the guts to show your work to someone other than family and friends . . . someone who will give you the honest truth. Consider hiring a professional. It's worth the cost.
• Make at least one big goal for yourself: I'll finally finish this book/I'll query 20 agents/I'll attend 2 writing conferences. And attach deadlines to each goal.

The biggest resolution? Don't give up in 2008. This may be your year.

If You Wrote the Code . . .

A popular post from May 2009

by Annette Lyon

My husband is a software engineer. This comes in handy for a writer spouse. When my computer crashes or I'm my usual techno-idiot self, I just call him. ("Honeeeeey! Come fiiiiix it!!!")

The other day, he mentioned an industry axiom:

If you wrote the code, you can't write the test.

In other words, the software engineer who wrote the code is incapable of testing it properly. He has a limited perspective on it, so his test would cover (of course) just the things that occur to him to test. It wouldn't be comprehensive, because someone else would think of testing in other ways. If the coder is the tester, all kind of weaknesses or bugs will probably be left behind. 

A coder's test can't be comprehensive because he has blinders. He wrote the code.

It needs another perspective.

Sound familiar?

As a writer, you're too close to your "code," your manuscript, to test for problems, to find the holes. No matter how great of a writer you might be, you need someone else, a "tester," to look at it with a new, fresh perspective.

Writers need to learn how to do revision and self-editing, and I'd go so far as to suggest that those skills are crucial to being a successful writer. But they aren't enough. At some point, you need to step out of your isolated writer bubble and hand the pages off to someone else. 

I've had critiquers point out plot holes that I never would have noticed (usually things I can fix easily . . . once I know they're there). They've caught motivation issues (sometimes those fixes are more complex, but they always make for a more believable story). Other times it's something as simple as an inconsistency, a confusing passage, or a pacing problem.

The story is perfect in your head, so when you read it, you miss things a good "tester" can catch. Having such a tester is the only way to make sure that what's in your head actually made it onto the page.

In the software industry, testers are trained in what they do. They understand computer languages and coding. An engineer wouldn't grab any old Joe from the street (or his mother or best friend) to test his code. Of course not.

The same concept applies to writing: you need qualified "testers."

While Grandma Sally will pat you on the head for writing such a great story, she probably can't help you improve it. She's blinded by her love for you, for starters, but she's also not qualified. 

Pick testers who write and know writing. They need to be able to diagonose problems in a written work, tell you when you're telling and not showing, catch info dumps, and  grasp things like characterization, conflict,  exposition, and a plethora of other things.

A parallel axiom for the writing industry:

If you wrote the story, you can't critique it.

How to Get Lucky

A popular post from October 2008

By Josi S. Kilpack

First, get out there.

Second, learn to smile

Third, wear perfume or cologne

Forth, act interested in other people and get their contact information

Fifth, find out what they want and help them with it

Sixth, be patient, it's a number game but you gotta play if you wanna score.

Now, wait, you weren't thinking I was talking about--oh you bad, bad, blog-reader! I'm not talking about that kind of lucky, the STD type of lucky, I'm talking about getting your lucky writing/publishing break. Shame on you!

This blog is all about creating your lucky moment, your big break, your connection that then leads to another connection that down the road puts you exactly where you want to be. Lot's up and coming writers justify the success of other writers by their being in the right place at the right time, or knowing the right person, or being at the right conference. Usually, they say this in a whiny tone of voice, consoling themselves with the misconception that because they weren't as 'lucky' as someone else, they missed their chance. Lame! And I'm gunna tell you why.

Right now, Julie Wright, a writer on this blog, is living it up in New York and hopefully not annoyed that I'm telling people that. Oh well, I'll choose repentance over permission this time. Julie is in New York because she is attending a highly-respected and very hard to get into writer's conference where she will be surrounded by editors and agents of some of the largest agencies and publishing houses in the country. They are very particular about who they allow to attend, she had to submit writing samples and wait a very long to time to hear that she was able to go. Then she had to plan a trip in 3 weeks and get everything ready to present. You can look at her current situation and think "Dang, she's lucky." You can think that, but you'd be wrong.

Julie isn't lucky (go to this post from a couple weeks ago for confirmation), she is brilliant. Brilliant because most writers have never heard of this conference and therefore wouldn't know to apply. Brilliant because most writers would be scared to death to submit a writing sample to be evaluated because they could very well be told they aren't good enough by some highly-respected judges. Brilliant because in the years I've known Julie, she's attended five times the writing conferences I have, knows hundreds of people in the national writing market, and despite having a hundred or more rejection letters in her file, she still goes to conferences, submits writing samples, and hob knobs with the mucky mucks of her market. Brilliant because instead of justifying other people's success with the idea that they were in the right place at the right time, Julie has consistently put herself in as many of the right places as she possibly could so that when the right time came, she knew what it looked like and got it's name and number.

If you want to achieve your writing goals and have ever said that someone else succeeded because of luck, or being the right place, or knowing someone, or simply by chance--then consider the following factors that can up your chances exponentially (I don't actually know what exponentially means, but it's a very, very cool word and makes me sound smart until I explain that I don't know what it means)

First--Get out there. Attend conferences, send queries, go to critique group, leave comments on blogs, have cards made up with your contact information. If you stay home and do none of these things, you'll never meet people, you'll never learn to network, you'll never gain confidence in who you are, you'll never perfect your elevator talk or learn to interact with all kinds of writers and publishing professionals. It's the law of the harvest--you reap what you sow. If you plant nothing--meet no one, go no where, comment on no-blogs--then you reap nothing--no Friends in the business, no name recognition, no card file, no inside knowledge. It has nothing to do with writing skill and technique (though they are important) but getting out there is about becoming part of the club. People talk about an 'old boys network' in pretty much every industry. And they do exist, however, in writing, it's an open invitation. Anyone can join, you just have to meet the rest of the people in the group. Writer's moan about being in the slush pile, but they put themselves there by doing nothing. Many writer's avoid the slush pile through having connections--but that doesn't happen in their kitchen.

Second--Learn to smile. Smiling isn't just about pulling up the corners of your mouth and showing your teeth, it's about attitude. It shows you're happy, it makes you inviting to others, it invites a good mood around you. When you're 'out there', having a smile on your face will increase your ability to meet other people to an incredible degree. It's the first step to being nice--smiling. And you should be nice.

Third--Wear perfume or cologne. This goes along with the smile, you want to be inviting. You don't want to smell like a cheeseburger or yesterday's shirt. You want to be confident in your presentation and that means not offending anyone's senses. You can take this a step further and brush your hair, stand up straight, choose a colored shirt that sets off your eyes. You're not going for super model here, but details are the difference between good and great--work toward great. Now, I know there are people out there that are allergic to perfume and Cologne--don't give me excuses. The point is, you want to be inviting. Stink is not inviting.

Fourth--Act interested in other people and get their contact information. Do not--DO NOT--simply advise, talk about your own book, tout yourself. Ask questions, find out what other people are doing, ask about their goals, how they got started, where they see themselves in ten years. Not only does this make them connect with you better, but you could learn a thing of five. Instead of being set on inspiring them, look to be inspired BY them. After meeting them and learning what they do, get their contact information and store it in a card file. You never know when that information might become very valuable to you.
And by people, I mean beginning writers, advanced writers, published authors, editors, agents, conference coordinators, spouses of all these people, marketers, the guy at the registration table. EVERYONE is someone worthy of your time. Julie knows, literally, hundreds of published authors and hundreds of writers who have yet to finish their first book. She could name three dozen agents off the top of her head and tell you what they publish. She goes to national conferences and goes to lunch with top authors in her market. She has their phone numbers and e-mail addresses and she knows if they are married, single, with kids, love dogs, are vegetarian, or vote republican. She knows these things because she's met them and she pays attention to them. Not every one of them have been responsible for a positive turn, but several of them have, and many are yet to play their hand, but they will. One thing she said about this conference she's attending now is that it's the first conference she's ever been to where she didn't know anyone, let alone forty people. But I can guarantee that when she gets home, she'll have fifty new contacts to add to her Rolodex.


Fifth--Find out what they want and help them with it. If you know someone that would be helpful for the situation of someone else, refer them there. If you know a book or a resource that would help them, share it. Some writers hold onto their advice as if by sharing it they will suddenly lose their place. That's silly. Be open and helpful and encouraging to other writers any way you can. Notice, this came after the advice to listening to the people you meet tell about themselves. That is not a coincidence.

Sixth--Be patient. Don't look at the people you meet as your ticket. They are people, not printed slips of paper, and be genuine, but realize that it can take time to develop a network and to feel comfortable in certain settings. This goes back to putting yourself in lots of 'right' places. Go to conferences over and over again, go to blogs over and over again, look and listen over and over again. Give it time and be sincere, be open to learning new things and generous in sharing what you know, but don't rush through it--rushing will negate the genuine pursuit and you'll miss out on so many things you need to learn through this phase of your career. Once your published, don't stop. You'll still need those resources, those networks, and they will need you now and again to help them along.

It's my belief, based on watching many other writers use this formula and succeed, that following these six steps, coupled with good writing, will not only help you, but actually allow you to accomplish your publication dreams. You don't have to go to a dozen conferences a year, but you do have to go to at least one, and more if you can find those that fit your genre and your schedule. You will have to make networking a priority if you want to benefit from it, and if you do, one day someone will tap you on the shoulder and say "Hey there, my name's Opportunity. I heard about you from so-and-so who was introduced to you by what's-his-name--in fact, it seems that a lot of people know who you are. Wanna get lucky?"

Critique Group: How Mine Works

A popular post from April 2012

by Annette Lyon

Some time ago, I addressed this topic (you can read that post HERE), but things have changed, and the question has popped up a few times recently, so I thought it worth addressing again.

My critique group currently has seven members, but rarely can all of us meet at the same time. So we typically have weekly meetings, rotating between three member homes in three cities, if at least three of us can attend. We usually get four or five. We try to arrange weekly meetings, so if (or, rather, when) some can't attend, it's okay; another meeting is coming around the corner.


Everyone brings a scene or chapter (6-8 pages typically, but sometimes more or less) and a copy for everyone. Each writer reads their pages aloud while we all take notes on our copies. Then each person goes around the table with 2-3 minutes of their critique. Sometimes we end up with discussions where we figure out how to fix something, disagree on a point, whatever. Normally, one person's piece takes about 30 minutes.

Some groups are really strict with "shop talk," but we know that that's a big part of getting together—no one gets this weird writing thing like other writers. So we let ourselves have about 30 minutes upfront for chit chat before buckling down. (Not that we don't get silly and chatty in between . . .)

We meet at 7:00 or 7:30, depending on schedules, and try to be done around 10:30 or so.

Treats are optional, but welcome.

Before we were all published and had deadlines, we read entire manuscripts this way, but times have changed. No way can we get through entire manuscripts before submission. Now we skip around, bringing parts we're struggling with or want to be sure we're getting right. Beginnings almost always show up. Sometimes, when we're getting ready to submit something, members will swap full manuscripts for critiques.

We all started out as newbies but with serious dedication. As a few dropped off or moved out, we brought in people who already had higher skill levels, since we'd grown as well.

In my opinion, a group works best if the members are roughly on the same skill level. If they aren't, those behind can't really contribute in a way that's valuable (their feedback isn't helpful, as they don't know enough). On the flip side, a member way ahead of others won't get value from those who aren't as far along the writing path. Plus, their feedback may be more than those starting out are ready for; it could be too harsh or simply not understandable. The way I see it, a slight variation is skill level is fine, but not a big one.

You'll likely find members who have varying strengths, which I've found useful. One person may be extra good at character motivation, another at showing, another at pacing, and yet another at conflict. A spectrum of strengths will raise everyone's game.

When looking for people to create a group, you'll want personality compatibility as well as dedication. If someone is a killer writer but never shows up (or regularly comes an hour late), doesn't write (so their skills lag behind everyone else's), and so on, there's not much point in having them in the group.

Some groups are big with sticking with a single genre, but we're all over the place, from middle grade to women's fiction, romance to horror, memoir to dystopian. As long as everyone is well-read and has a clue about how other genres work, having many shouldn't be a problem. I do know of some groups that specialize in specific genres, and imagine that may have its own advantages, but mixing genres has never been an issue for us.

Have critique group tips of your own? Share them in the comments!

Extra Eyes

A popular post from August 2011

by Annette Lyon

Last Saturday was the first ever Precision Editing Group live critique workshop. Each of the five senior editors had a table of writers, and we spent the day reading pages aloud and helping one another improve.

(We also got a picture taken of the five of us, which you can see in the sidebar. Left to right: Lu Ann Staheli, Heather Moore, Julie Wright, me, and Josi Kilpack.)

I had a great group of writers at my table. Here we are (I'm third from the left):

We had a great time. By the end of the day, I felt that everyone at my table had a solid direction to go with their books. They knew what worked (our table was great at pointing out strengths!), what didn't quite hit the mark, and best of all, they came away know knowing why certain parts didn't land and they knew how to make their work better.

I led the discussion, but I wasn't the only one talking. Everyone got to comment on everyone else's work, and I believe they all learned something from the three elements of the day:

1) Taking a critique from others.

Learning to accept a critique helps a writer build a thicker skin and lets you view your work more objectively. It's easy to get so close to your story that you can't see what's good and what's not so good without stepping back. The best way I've found to get that distance is through receiving outside feedback.

2) Giving a critique to others.

When you put on the editor hat and must actively look at someone else's work through that lens, you're working a different creative muscle. If you're like me, you'll discover things about writing that you didn't know before. You'll see something that works well (or doesn't), and then you have to articulate why. Also, sometimes I'll see a problem in someone's work, and only then do I realize that I do the very same thing.

3) Watching other people critique a third person's work.

When different perspectives and different skill sets are put into action in front of you, you may get some of the best writing education of your life. I've had more light-bulb moments watching members of my critique group help each other than in almost any other way.

I've learned huge amounts from all three critique ways, and I believe that my table did, too, even though we had just one day together.

Kudos to the five writers at my table. Your willingness to both learn and give was inspiring, and I was impressed with your work. Keep at it!

If you haven't had this type of critique experience, find one. Joining my critique group in January of 2000 was the single best thing I did for my writing. My skills jumped ahead light years in a matter of months.

I'm sure we'll have more writing workshops in the future. Be sure to watch for any announcements, because you won't want to miss out.

How to GIVE a Critique

A popular post from Feb. 2012

by Annette Lyon

Some time ago, I did a two-part series on how to take and use a critique. Find part I here and part II here.

I got a lot of great feedback from those posts, after which Precision Editing reader (and personal friend) DeNae suggested I address the opposite side of the fence, which is today's topic:

How do you GIVE a critique?

I admit that I've meant to write about this topic for months, but I had a hard time grabbing hold of how to approach it. I finally realized why, and the reason is simple:

Not all critiques are created equal.

I've known the writers in my critique group for over a decade. I trust them with my work. They trust me with theirs. They can totally rip my chapter to shreds, and I'll walk away liking them just as much as before (or maybe more, because they're helping me grow). I can do the same to them.

But what if a brand new writer comes to me asking for feedback, and I give the same type of brutal honesty to them?

I'm guessing emotional implosion, or something close to it.

One reason is that a brand new writer likely hasn't developed a thick skin yet.

Another reason is that I'm a perfect stranger. Even for me, it's far easier for me to take a harsh critique from a member of our group than a mild edit from an anonymous editor.

Before you give someone a critique, you'll need to address the following issues:

How experienced is this writer?

If they're just starting out, you could squelch their enthusiasm pretty easily, even if their work is relatively good. Be gentle.

I've often heard that a good critique will have at least 2 positive comments for each negative one. Trust me; my group doesn't work that way. Not even almost. But we don't need to, either. We have history together, trust and respect as colleagues.

But the 2/1 method probably does work well when someone is starting out. Don't stress over getting the perfect ratio of positive and negative, but do make sure to point out what the new writer is doing well.

If, on the other hand, the writer is seasoned, you probably don't need to include everything you liked, and you can likely be more direct about what you think needs fixing.

Find out what Kind of Feedback Is Wanted

Sometimes a writer may want big picture feedback, things like whether the conflict is engaging, the pacing tight, the characters and motivations believable, if you spot any plot holes, and the like.

Other times, they want a closer read, more like a line edit, where you catch repeated words, typos, and awkward writing on line-by-line level.

Knowing what kind of feedback you're giving will influence how you read the work (On the computer? On your e-reader?), what you'll focus on, and even how much time you'll spend on it.

Say What, Where and Why

And be specific doing so.

If you can, target specific issues and then explain, in detail, how to improve in those areas. Few things frustrate a writer more than generic feedback. "Loved it" and "Hated it" are both useless, because we don't know where or (more importantly) why. Be specific.

Examples of targeted positive feedback:

"Great use of point of view here."

"Love how well you showed the emotion this paragraph."

"Great description. I could totally see and smell the forest."

"This conversation has excellent dialog—each character has a unique voice."

"This part is so creepy . . . excellent tension!"

Examples of targeted critical feedback:

"I'm unsure whose point of view we're in here. I think we've hopped heads since the last page."

"Could you show her crying instead of telling us she's sad?"

"This scene could use a few more details about the setting. I can't see where they are."

"This conversation feels like nothing but voices. I can't follow who's saying what."

"The pace lags a bit on this page. Tighten it a bit."

Be Open to Questions

If something you mentioned in your critique is unclear, the writer should be able to approach you for clarification without any worry.

Know When to Say No

Writers who are serious are teachable. Pretend you've helped Writer A with a critique. They've supposedly revised, and they want you to read more of their work. You open the new file, only to see the exact same issues you pointed out before.

Maybe the writer didn't understand your suggestions.

Maybe they aren't ready for a real critique and would rather be ego-stroked.

Maybe they want to hurry up and put their work up as an e-book without putting in the apprenticeship work required to become a true wordsmith and storyteller.

In those cases, it's best to politely walk away. Any critique you'll give at that point is a waste of everyone's time.

You'll know you did a great job when the writer comes back to you and says that you helped them make their work so much better, and thank you!

That's a huge reward all by itself.

Taking a Critique, Part 2

A popular post from July 2011, continued.

by Annette Lyon

A few weeks ago, I posted about how to take a critique.

That post has a lot of important points, so if you haven't read it, do. Then come back.

Now for the next step: actively using a critique. I'll use the term editor below when referring to the person who did your critique. That could be a critique group member, beta reader, editor, or anyone else who is giving you feedback.

1) Before changing anything, do an initial pass.

Read through the entire edit quickly, without making any changes. You'll get a simple overview of what's ahead. Take stock of what's been changed, suggested, noted. Get a feel for what kinds of changes your editor sees for the book (or chapter or scene) as a whole. If you don't know your editor personally, this also helps to give you a feel for their personality.

2) Set it aside and take a deep breath.

If you're anything like me, even if you can take a critique because you've built up thick skin, you'll still get butterflies (or, say, nausea) opening up and reading an edit for the first time. That feeling may not subside (and it may get worse) after that initial pass. Sometimes setting the work aside for a bit (an hour, a day, a week, whatever it takes) lets you come back without the nerves but with a clearer, more objective view. Making changes is so much easier when your stomach isn't an emotional knot.

3) Attack the small stuff first.

That means addressing anything that you can change in short spurts, whether it's punctuation, grammar, and other line-editing stuff, or fixing somewhat bigger stuff, like showing this scene instead of telling it, upping the characterization in that scene, and so on.

4) When you find "big stuff," skip it. For now.

You'll be cruising along on your edit, with pages behind you, when you hit chapter nine and a big huge comment that you know is valid but is going to require some serious changes. The changes could mean rewriting entire sections or going through the entire manuscript to fix the same problem in multiple pages. Whatever it is, "big stuff" can be overwhelming. It can also be discouraging. With any luck, you won't have more than about ten or so "big stuff" issues.

5) THEN attack the hairy parts.

There's nothing quite as satisfying as seeing a lot of work done, whether it's manuscript pages or notes in an electronic file. Relish in the victory of finishing that "easy" pass (because even the easy pass isn't easy; it is work). Now go back and deal with the bigger stuff, one issue at a time, as your creative brain (and, let's face it, your emotional stress detector) can take them. If you get stuck, set the work aside again and think through the big issue you're facing to find the best way to address it. Don't rush big fixes.

6) Go over it again.

When you've addressed every note and change in the edit, do a final pass. You may catch new problems you've inadvertently inserted into the text through your changes (time lines, character or location details, overall consistency). Fix them as you come across them.

And while you're at it, be sure to enjoy reading through a cleaner, better version of your work.

How to Take a Critique

A popular post from June 2011. 

by Annette Lyon

As many of our regular readers know, I've been part of a great critique group for a long time (since January of 2000). I've been published for 9 of those years, and I've been editing professionally for at least five of those. It's safe to say I've been on both sides of the "get your work torn apart" process.

With that in mind, here are a few guidelines for when you get feedback, whether it's from a beta reader, a critique group member, or an editor.

1) No matter what anyone says, it's still your book.

No one's opinion is law. Therefore: you don't have to change anything you don't want to.

Sometimes that realization is rather freeing.

It's also a pain in the neck, because things are so subjective in the arts. At times it would be nice to have a formula: X + Y = success! It's not quite like that.

That said:

2) Consider each piece of feedback seriously.

Even if you totally disagree with someone's suggestion about changing a section, don't dismiss the idea out of hand. Think about whether they have a valid point. Maybe their fix isn't the best idea, but their diagnosis is right on: something is indeed wrong with the section.

So maybe Mark wouldn't say what the editor suggested, but is there a chance his original dialog was flat or unmotivated? Is pace sagging here? Is that chapter confusing? Sometimes editors are great at spotting problems and suggesting solutions, but it's your job as the writer to figure out the best fix.

3) Don't argue, debate, or defend.

You've asked for (maybe even paid for!) an opinion. If you don't agree with it, fine. But insisting that your reader misread or misinterpreted your work, or insisting it must be this way or the reader is an idiot and missed this or that and here is why? That's not useful. (And it can be insulting; you asked for an opinion and got one.)

Okay, maybe the person is an idiot.

Or . . . maybe your reader missed a big point because you didn't write it effectively.

Figure out which it is, and, if necessary, get back to work. If getting an honest critique or edit stings too much and/or makes you want to whip out your defensive karate moves, there's a chance you're not ready for outside feedback quite yet.

4) A corollary: Just because something "really" is a certain way or "really" happened that way, doesn't mean it'll be believable.

For example: Some time ago, as I prepared to write a scene where a character dies, I read several first-person accounts from people who had loved ones die in similar circumstances. In my scene, I added the kinds of details that really happened to real people.

My critique group got hung up on a few of them because they didn't feel real.

What did I do? I could have insisted that "Some people really do go through it just like this." (And I could have proved it.)

Instead, I recognized that if those details pulled them out of the scene, if the moment didn't ring true, I needed to revise. I found other details (also real) that felt more true and familiar. The result was a much more powerful scene.

5) Don't go back to your editor to answer their "questions."

I put that in quotation marks, because if an editor writes notes like "Where are they?" or "What's the name of that museum?" or "I don't think such a building on that street exists, does it?" the editor is not really asking because they want an answer.

They're asking for the reader's benefit.

The editor is merely pointing out an issue for you as the writer to address: something is confusing, telly, unclear, or unbelievable. The question is a way for the editor to tell you that something isn't working. Questions give you, the writer, a direction to go.

I don't know of a single editor who ever waits for a client to send an email with, "Oh, by the way, the building you asked about is two blocks west of the City Bank on Main Street. It really exists. Here's a Google Map link to prove it."

(Thanks . . . that was totally keeping me up at night . . .)

In my experience, most editors are happy to clarify what they meant by a certain question if you aren't sure what the underlying issue is. But trust me; they aren't expecting you to answer those questions in any place except the actual manuscript, which the editor may never see again.

Answering a question (especially if it's one of those "See? I was right," issues) can rub the wrong way. Which leads to:

5) Resist correcting your editor.

We're human, so yes, we make mistakes, no matter how perfect we try to be. Whether it's a typo or fact we're off on . . . let it go. (Even if the mistake is phrased as a question, as in #4.)

Imagine this scenario (this exact situation hasn't happened, but it hearkens to real events): Your historical novel has a World War I battle and lists it as taking place in 1920. Your editor points out that the war had already ended by that point, with a note along the lines of, "WWI was over by then. I think the final battle was in 1919."

You recheck your facts and realize that whoops, the war was indeed over before 1920. But check it! The war ended in 1918, although the Treaty of Versailles wasn't signed until 1919.

Hah! Your editor was WRONG!

Sure, technically. But here's the deal: Your editor was correct in spotting your error. That's all that matters here. You were saved from looking bad. Returning with "Well, you were wrong too," won't elicit a thank you or warm fuzzies.

6) Have Reasonable Expectations. Or: Apply what you've learned. THEN come back.

Often, we editors get e-mails from clients saying that they learned so much from the 50 pages they had edited, whether it's about showing, exposition, dialog, or something else, and thank you!

We love that kind of feedback; helping writers to improve their work is what we're after.

Next step: apply what you've learned to the rest of the manuscript! Then ask for more editing.

Sometimes a writer wants to hand over 300 pages of a draft, pay for an edit, and end up with gold. That doesn't work. A single edit can take a manuscript only so many steps up. The better a piece is before an editor gets their hands on it, the higher level it'll be at the end of the edit. No matter how great the editor, coal cannot be turned into a diamond. Create a diamond, even in the rough, and the editor may be able to find the right cut and shape for it to sparkle!

This is, as we've mentioned on this blog before, why we often do manuscripts in chunks: it gives the writer the chance to learn from the edits of the early pages and apply those lessons so that later edits will be even more effective.

And finally, because it bears repeating:

No matter what anyone says, it's still your book.

Announcing our Live Critque Workshop

Precision Editing's LIVE CRITIQUING WORKSHOP

August 13, 2011
American Fork Library
64 South 100 East, American Fork, UT
Doors open: 10:00 a.m.
Workshop: 10:30 a.m. -- 3:30 p.m.
Includes one hour lunch break, lunch on your own

Registration deadline: August 1st

**Limited Space**

Payments to: www.paypal.com
Pay $35.00 to PayPal account: editor@precisioneditinggroup.com
**include "PEG Workshop" in the notes
**include your email address in the notes if different from your paypal address
(you don't need a PayPal account to do this)

Instructors include best-selling & award-winning authors:
Annette Lyon (Best of State winner, Whitney Award winner, author of historical fiction, women's fiction, romance, and a cookbook)

Josi S. Kilpack (Whitney Award winner, author of women's fiction, romance, suspense, culinary mysteries)

Lu Ann Staheli (Best of State winner in non-fiction, Best of State educator, author of celebrity memoirs)

Heather B. Moore (Best of State winner, Whitney Award winner, author of historical fiction and non-fiction)

Julie Wright (Whitney Award winner, author of middle grade science fiction, time-travel, contemporary young adult, and romance)

Bring:
15 pages of your manuscript, double-spaced, 12 point type
**Make 6 copies for your critique table

(We may not get through all 15 pages, but we should get through at least 10)


Questions: email editor@precisioneditinggroup.com

This information is also on our PEG WORKSHOPS page

2010: Looking Forward

by Heather Moore



I literally gained ten pounds writing my most recent book. It wasn’t really that I ate more chocolate (although that could be true), or ate more fast food to cut back on shopping or cooking time (although that might be true as well), but as I became so caught up in finishing the project, it seemed that every spare moment was be used in writing, not exercising.

This week, I managed to go running (30% running/ 70% walking) three times. This is a record since probably, oh, August. Because it’s freezing in my city, I dragged my 12 year old with me to the local rec center to run the track. Monday was quiet there, Tuesday was busier, and by Thursday it was packed.

As we maneuvered ourselves in and out of other eager runners, I told my daughter, “It will stay packed like this through January, then by the first week of February only a few will remain.”

Ah, the New Year’s Resolutions, and the initial burst of energy and determination that fades almost as quickly as it starts. I have seen this lately with many writer friends. Queries have been sent out in a flurry in November and December, many times unpolished. Rejections have already filtered in, and discouragement has set in. One of my friends, after four rejections in just a few weeks, completely gave up.

It’s hard to stay motivated and positive as we write and submit. We might spend a weekend researching agents and by Monday morning we have submitted to six or eight of them. But in a recent WD article, agent Ann Rittenberg says she receives 3,000 queries per year, and 75% are for novels. Of that, 90% are for first novels, meaning 2,000 queries are for first novels. Ann says that “80 percent of those query letters about first novels never should have been sent” (“Submitting Your Novel: Basics of a Solid 3-Paragraph Query,” Writer’s Digest, January 2010, 62). Ann also says that many of those queries are for types of books that she doesn’t represent, or it’s obvious that the writers “were not ready to be published and the books were not ready to be agented.” (ibid)

But what if we are ready? We’ve finished the book, gone through revisions with trusted editors, written a powerful query, and we are still receiving rejections? Do we stop going to the track? Stop running altogether?

Looking forward to 2010, my advice is:
1. Use rejections to improve your work. Slow down a little and put in the right effort to submit to the right agent. Researching agents and/or publishers will be worth your time.
2. Understand that the submitting process is a waiting game, which means that you need to have more than just one writing goal.
3. Stay open to ideas and options. There are many genres and avenues you can get published through.
4. Don’t just set "be all, end all" writing goals, but set back-up goals when you reach that left turn.
5. As we know, writing is not for the faint-hearted. It’s wonderful to create, but there will come a point when you feel as if you are slugging through the muddy marshes of revising.

James Michener said, “Being goal-oriented instead of self-oriented is crucial. I know many people who want to be writers. But let me tell you, they really don’t want to be writers. They want to have been writers. They wish they had a book in print. They don’t want to go through the work of getting the damn book out. There is a huge difference.” (as quoted in WD, Jan 2010, 46)

Will you still be “running” in February? I hope so!

I'm Writing . . . Now What?

by Annette Lyon

Today I was asked what turns out to be a pretty common question, basically:

I know I want to write, and I'm working on a book. Now what?

The best advice I figured I could give was to start hanging around places where there are other writers, like conferences, workshops, and local writer groups.

First off, that's where you'll learn the craft better. Every workshop you attend, every lecture you listen to, is a learning experience. Soak it all in. Learn as much as you can.

Second, that's where you'll learn about the business, including how to submit and who to submit to, the etiquette of publishing, and SO much more.

But third, that's also where you'll make writing relationships. These are the supports that will keep you going during rough times, give you critical feedback, and maybe even connect you with industry insiders to help you succeed.

Not in an area where you can hang out in person? Try hanging out with other writers virtually. Writer's Digest is one of many places where you can go online and find forums for writers, writing blogs, articles, online workshops, videos from national conferences, and more.

Many sites offer critique swaps. One relatively new but fast-growing one is Review Fuse. Search online for more.

I can say without qualification that my writing relationships are directly responsible for my being published and for succeeding as far as I have. But I wouldn't have them if I hadn't gone to conferences and the like as much as I did. In many cases, that's where we became friends. In others, a member directory is how we found one another.

Best of all, my writer friends are some of the few people in the world who really "get" me and my bizarre writer brain.

As Mastercard would say, they're priceless.

The Benefit of Multiple Opinions

by Annette Lyon

I've said it many times: The single best thing I ever did for my writing was get into an excellent critique group. It gives me the feedback I need to know whether I'm getting close to the mark or whether I'm totally off track.

As you seek feedback, keep one very important thing in mind:

Don't rely on one opinion.

Feedback from one person isn't enough, no matter how good the writer, no matter how experienced or excellent they are.

Here's why: Writing is subjective. There isn't just one right answer. Surrendering to one person's opinion might not be the best way to go.

What if you relied so heavily on one opinion that you overhauled your entire manuscript . . . only to discover after the fact that your book was actually better before your massive revision?

Or what if your original manuscript did need a big revision . . . but in a totally different direction than your only reader suggested?

My critique group is composed of published and award-winning writers who know their stuff. But even they sometimes disagree about whether something should be changed or whether a story element is working. While I usually take their advice (they are frighteningly good at what they do), I've ignored suggestions from every single one of them.

Usually (but not always) that's when the group is split on an opinion, and I take the majority's view to heart. But what if I had only gotten one opinion? What if I relied so heavily on one person that I missed out on the (even better) insights I could have gotten from others?

If you don't have a critique group like mine, don't panic. You still need outside feedback, so seek it out. Just do so from multiple sources.

For example, attend writers conferences and writers meetings, such as local chapters of SCBWI, RWA, and other organizations. Network with other writers and exchange contact information, then swap manuscripts and critique one another.

Go online to find online writing support groups. Many offer critique exchanges. Don't worry that you don't know how to give a good critique; you learn how by doing it. The more you read with a critical eye, the better you'll get at offering helpful advice and at finding weak spots in your own work.

When you're ready, consider having a professional look at it (like one of the editors from Precision Editing Group).

Just be sure to give your work out to multiple sources for feedback. If one source suggests major surgery, hold off and get a second opinion before putting your book under the knife. If sources #2 and #3 agree with #1, then maybe your manuscript really could use some time on the operating table. But what if #2 and #3 agree with one another . . . in disagreeing with #1?

You'll never please every reader, and you shouldn't try to. But the more eyes that look at your work, the wider the perspective and opinions will be. That means your chances will go up that you'll hit closer to the bull's eye with what you're hoping to achieve.

And isn't that every writer's goal?

When No Criticism Is Bad News

by Annette Lyon

As I judged a writing contest this last week, several commonalities struck me about the entries.

A few things cropped up over and over again:

• Point of View issues: No point of view. Or poor execution of point of view. Or some funky version of an omniscient narrator. None of which worked.
• Telling instead of showing, which is especially weak when it’s during moments that should be tense or emotional.
• Punctuation mistakes. Not only were sentences punctuated incorrectly (which editors hate), but a lot of the time the wrong punctuation made the text plain old hard to decipher. Good punctuation acts as sign posts so the reader knows what belongs where, who’s doing what, and where the pauses belong. It’s worth learning how to do it right.
• Awkward or stilted dialogue.
• “It was all a dream” cop-out endings.
• Starting in a boring place—often way too early—and including lots of extra back story and other elements that didn’t belong to the core story.
• Padding sentences with extra baggage, like the piece that used the term, “a forest of trees.” (As opposed to what, a forest of pretzels?)

As I made my way through the entries and jotted notes in the margins, I found a pattern: The worst entries had very little red ink, while best ones were covered with my scribbles.

At first that made no sense.

After a little reflection, the reason dawned on me: The best entries were ready for polishing. I could indicate redundancies, awkward sentences, or motivation issues. I could make concrete suggestions for improving a paragraph or a description. These authors knew enough to take such suggestions and run with them. They have the basics down and just need someone to point the way down the path and give them a nudge to get going.

What I’ll call the “non-winning” entries were on a different level altogether, and not in a good way. The majority had major problems—problems that went beyond what I could suggest or help with in a quick margin note. With these writers,“Show this,” “Begin with the moment of change,” or, “Be sure to keep a consistent point of view,” would be like speaking a foreign language to them.

So I had to sit and stare at those stories to figure out what to say to their creators. Where do you begin to point out a path to someone when they aren’t even on the map? To use a different metaphor, I can’t suggest how to decorate a house when the foundation isn’t even in place.

I tried to give some kind of constructive suggestions to everyone, but it was tough. The non-winning folks got a lot of “fun image”-type comments and have large sections with no red ink at all, while the winning entries almost look like I bled on them.

I feel bad about that; I hope the winners don’t get discouraged but instead see the feedback as a chance to grow and improve as writers.

Next time you enter a contest or get feedback from an agent or editor, keep this in mind: The more specific the criticism, chances are, the better writer you are. If you stunk, there would be no way to point out every weakness; the judge/editor/agent on the other end wouldn’t know where to start.

The moral of today’s post: Never look at feedback as merely cutting you down. Instead, open your arms and let it in. It only goes to show that you’re already good, and weighing the suggestions carefully will only make you better.

Facing Your Audience

by LuAnn Staheli

Sometime in junior high, I decided to be a writer. I wrote poetry and short stories, but I looked forward to the day when I would grow up and write novels. It took me several years to get there. Only eleven years ago I completed my first, the story of my mother’s childhood. My second novel was born three years later from a random idea. It was followed two years ago by a book based on my own teenage years, then last year I completed a historical set in the time of the Aztecs that I had been working on for nearly twelve years.

So, four complete novels reside on my computer hard drive. All have been through my critique group, revised, and prepared for publication. And that’s where the problem lies. Despite the fact that I’ve queried several editors and agents, I’ve not yet sold one of these manuscripts. Like many want-to-be authors, I could just give up and set my dreams aside, but after all these years and the amount of work I’ve already put into them, I don’t want to.

I decided to face my audience. All four of my books are meant to be read by teenagers, and every day I see over one-hundred teens in my Honors English classrooms. Copies in hand, I approached several of my best editors. “Would you be willing to read and critique this for me?” The response has been overwhelmingly positive. At last, the chance for the student to tell the teacher what they need to fix.

With delicious glee, the students were off, taking their task seriously. I’ll admit, I was nervous. Sending my babies off to faceless readers was one thing, but knowing I would see my new editors face-to-face every day for the rest of the school year was frightening. “What if they don’t like it? What if they think I’m a terrible writer? Will I be able to fix anything they don’t understand?”

As manuscripts started to come back to me, I discovered that sending them home with kids was the best thing I could do. The responses have been positive; the comments specific and helpful. As I’ve started revision based on my target reader’s input, I feel my manuscripts will be better than ever.

Writers need feedback to improve their work, and no response is as constructive as that from a real audience. Sure, agents and editors may hone my work, but the kids—they are the ones who will really matter when the books finally get published.

The Benefit of Extra Eyes

by Annette Lyon

My critique group is composed of several talented, published writers, yet we continue to meet regularly and read our work aloud to one another and get criticism. I've been attending for upwards of 8 years.

Some might think that by now we must have exhausted our usefulness to one another, that we've learned all we can, and might as well move on.

Nothing is further from the truth.

I've found that extra sets of eyes looking at my work will find things that I am incapable of seeing because I'm the one that wrote it. It doesn't matter how great a writer I become; the fact that I wrote the piece by its very nature dictates that I cannot see all the holes. The moment I think I'm such a good a writer that I don't need outside feedback is the day my writing takes a nosedive.

In our group, every so often we come upon something that makes us all laugh out loud—usually something that didn't come out quite how we meant it to.

Below are a few gems from our last meeting. Remember: all of these sentences came from authors who have multiple published novels under their belts. It happens to the best of us.

1. James hadn't meant to let it slip that he wasn't married, at least to his boss.

(No, James isn't married to his boss . . .)

A set-up for #2: the character in question has built a narrow enclosure for a horse, using dowels slid through the back opening of the area to prevent the horse from backing out of it. Okay, now the sentence will make more (silly) sense. Note that we've been talking HORSES:

2. He had made holes for sliding sticks through the rear end instead of her recommended two.

(Uh, that would be the rear end of the enclosure . . .)

The next one shows a scuffle between two WOMEN:

3. Suddenly her hands were on my chest, pushing me backwards.

(Doubt she meant to give her an unscheduled mammogram . . .)

Note there's nothing inherently bad about any of these sentences, but in context and with a different pair of eyeballs than the author had, a new meaning emerged.

Sometimes our "bloopers" are of the grammatical variety. Other times they're simply ambiguous. Then there are those that just leave a silly image in your mind.

Here are more I've gathered over the years—all real quotes from drafts brought to our critique group. And yes, some are mine:

Suddenly, my mother turned into a driveway.

Your grandmother killed him before I got the chance.

Lizzie's hands flew to her mouth. Inside lay four books.

Lighting a candle, she settled beneath the covers.

Andrew noted his lean frame on the high counter sipping his drink.

. . . he began, then stopped seeing Jacob's scowl

Quiet and patient, Alice's dark hair was always pulled into a simple bun.

And our all-time favorite blooper:

A man is inside a cedar wood closet, which reminds him of the cedar chest his mother once owned. But instead of saying it like that, it came out like this:

The scent reminded him of his mother's smelly chest.

We've had our laughs over all of these, and any time someone else lets a blooper loose, I write it down—not only because of the chuckle, but because it's a subtle reminder that we need one another to read over and catch not only our bloopers, but all kinds of other things that can make our writing continually better.

Every writer needs that.

Introducing Our New Critique Forum: MONDAY MANIA

The editors at Precision Editing Group are pleased to announce our new on-line critique forum.

And you won't even have to go anywhere. Right here, on our Writing on the Wall blog, we'll post YOUR queries or first page of your book [about 350 words]. You'll receive same-day feedback on your query or first page from our editors AND readers.

How it will work:

1. Each Monday, hereby called MONDAY MANIA, we'll post 1-3 queries and/or first pages on the blog. As a reader, you'll be able to read the queries and post your own comments. Please keep your comments constructive and in good taste. We want to set ourselves apart from other blogs and stay helpful and professional. Our editors will also be reading the submissions and posting comments as well.

2. Email your query or first page to: editor@precisioneditinggroup.com If we receive it by the Friday before, we'll post your submission the following Monday by 12:00 noon, MST. You are welcome to request that your post be shown anonymously. Please remove any highly-personal information.

3. You can email us your submissions any time. If there is a backlog, it may take longer to be listed on the Monday Mania blog. Keep checking each Monday for your submission. Meanwhile, feel free to comment on queries and first pages submitted by other writers.

We hope this will prove to be a constructive way to earn immediate feedback from two of the most challenging writing processes. When you submit to an agent or publisher, your query and your first page has only seconds to capture attention. We want your submissions to rise above the slush pile.

Recipe for a Writing Group

by Annette Lyon

Reader Question:
How do you structure your writing group? How many people are in it? Do you ever take new people? How do you break up the time? How often do you meet, for how long, and where are the meetings held? What tricks have you picked up over the years?


I'm glad you asked, because in my opinion, a writing/critique group can be the most valuable thing you can do for your work.

One big caveat: A BAD group can be the worst thing you can do for your writing. You need a GOOD group, one where the other members can challenge you but don't make you feel small. Where you can contribute, but where you can benefit from the other members as well.

I've heard of groups where they're not much more than chatting fun-fests. I've heard of groups where no one really knows what they're doing—they're all clueless. I've heard of groups where, after a couple of years, they all start writing like each other. In such cases, move on!

I'm lucky in that I've been with my group for seven and a half years, and we're still going strong. We all write differently, we stay on track, and while we're great friends, we certainly aren't easy on one another. We all have our strengths, and if someone hasn't attended in a few weeks, I feel like my work might be slipping in one area. We'll be together for years to come, I'm quite sure.

The way our group works is just one of many ways to run a writing group. Some groups meet less frequently but meet for much longer chunks. Others take home entire manuscripts and then meet to give commentary on them and never read aloud in front of each other. Others read one another's works aloud instead of reading their own. I'm sure there are as many ways to run groups as their are writers. Below is the way ours works.

Customize your own group to fit your needs.

How do you structure your group?
The basic way we work is to meet approximately weekly. Each person brings enough copies of their piece (usually 6-8 pages, perhaps a scene) for every person to read off of. When it's my turn, I'll hand out my copies to each person, then read my piece aloud while they all make notes on their own hard copy. Then they'll each take 2-3 minutes giving a verbal critique. Sometimes we set a timer to be sure we don't go long, because it's the oral commentary that can take too much time if we aren't careful. Once we've gone around the table and everyone has said what they think, the next person passes out their work.

How many people are in it?
We currently have eight members, and I don't recommend having any more than that. However, with schedules being as insane as they are, we rarely have more than five or six at any meeting, and that is about perfect. We never meet with fewer than four, because you need at least three people outside of yourself to get enough feedback to make it worthwhile.

Do you ever take new people?
Periodically, but rarely. Usually it's when someone moves.

How do you break up the time?
See above. The biggest trick is not letting friendship chatter get in the way, because we have been together so long that we really are great friends. That's when we break out the timer and have to hold ourselves to it.

How often do you meet, for how long, and where are the meetings held?
Weekly most of the time, but sometimes we end up missing weeks. And when the holidays come, we don't even bother. Often we'll meet two weeks into November, have a holiday dinner with spouses, and then call it quits until the new year. We meet at members' homes, sitting around their kitchen tables, red pens in hand. It helps if there are chips and salsa or chocolate chip cookies on the table. We generally start around 7:00 pm and go until we're done, around 10:30 pm if we haven't gotten overly chatty.

What tricks have you picked up over the years?
Pay attention to what other members say to each other. This helps in two ways. First, you'll save time in not repeating a criticism someone already said, which wastes time, but (more importantly) often you'll learn just as much about writing by listening to others' critiques of each other as you will about what they say to you.

Another tip in saving time is only mentioning things that really need explanation. A lot of comments are self-explanatory from the notes you write down. You may not have to explain that a sentence felt awkward if you wrote, "awk" in the margin next to it, but if there was a part where the protagonist's motivation was unclear, you'll likely need to expound on that.

Also, be sure to write you name on the first page of your copy. That way, when the person gets home, they know right away that YOU made all the notes, and if they need clarification, they know who to ask.

Sometimes we disagree. If one person thought my description cliche and another person thought it was brilliant, I'll ask for hands to go up. How many people thought it cliche? How many thought it was brilliant? That'll give me a rough idea of how close I got. Often it's just one person who thinks one direction, and everyone else thinks the other way. That tells me overwhelmingly that it maybe it really was cliche (or brilliant). Or if it's split in half, maybe I need to rework the passage a different way altogether.

One other thing I've learned is that I don't have to take their advice. It's still my work. I'm the author, so I have the final say. I also know that my group is composed of darn talented people. There's a good chance if they've diagnosed a problem, it really is a problem. But sometimes I've found a better way of solving it than they've suggested.

Once I whined to a relative about a big fix I had ahead that they had suggested for my work in progress. She said, "Blow them off. You don't have to listen to them."

"You don't understand," I told her. "They're right."

The biggest tip? Give it time. Critiquing is something you learn. We've had people come to their first meeting and flip out because they feel completely inadequate. "How can you pick up so much so fast—while you're just listening to it?" they say. Well, we've had years of practice. It's an acquired skill. You learn.

I love my critique group and can't live without them. I don't dare publish a novel without their eyes going over it first. Find a good group and cling to them for dear life. They're worth their weight in gold.