Cope With Your Critique

This week the Rockville 8 welcomes Matthew Iden, author of the Marty Singer detective series. Matthew is here to talk about the invaluable necessity of working with an editor. Whether we as writers choose to publish traditionally or go the indie route, we all eventually feel the (loving) wrath of an editor's pen. In the end, a good editor is a book's best friend.

Welcome to the Rockville 8, Matthew! What can you tell us about making the most of our editor's work?

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One of the first commitments I made to myself when I dove into the world of self-publishing was to work with a professional fiction editor who had experience in my genre, crime fiction. Despite the expense, I believed — and later confirmed — that hiring and working with an editor was often the benchmark that separated professional self-published writers from fly-by-nighters.

I've since worked with two different editors on three different manuscripts and my novels have been improved in every instance. But each time I get that editorial letter back — even though I know I'll eventually reap the rewards of working with a true pro in the field — I'm unprepared for the battery of criticism that gets leveled at my writing.

I know, I know, it's what I'm paying them for. Why am I so surprised? I asked them to find what's wrong with my novel, not what's right. Still, each time a critique comes in, I struggle to overcome the sense of doom that settles over me when I look at my book. 

What follows is a short hand strategy for coping with those feelings of anxiety. Better yet, I've found it actually helps me make better use of the critique my editors give me. Next time you get that letter, follow these guidelines and see if it doesn't help you make the most of what you've paid for.

1. Read the critique, then take a breath

When you get your editor's letter, it will completely leave your mind that, if they're doing their job, everything they can find wrong with your book will be condensed into one small, soul-crushing package. Plot holes, ridiculous inconsistencies, flat characters, unresolved endings, shallow story telling, not enough conflict, too much conflict…all of it is going to be wrapped up into this one, concentrated missive.

This will poison you if you let it. Remember that they are condensing things and that this is not a condemnation of every page of your novel…and is certainly not a judgment of your skill as a writer. Read the critique through once, twice, ten times if you have to, but remind yourself that the criticism of your manuscript is representative, not total. Relax. Whatever your editor found amiss can be examined and corrected. That's the point of the critique.

2. Make a plan

Unless your editor is exceedingly well organized (or even if they are), your edits may come as a mish-mash of small, medium, and large problems. Once you've read your critique and understand what's being discussed — even if you don't agree with all of the proposed changes — make your own prioritized list of issues before diving in.

You might be able to address some of the items on their own, without consideration for other parts of the manuscript. Others might be so intertwined with related plot elements that you'd better look at the work as a whole before you start typing or you could upset the apple cart of the book's logic.

Understand the consequences of following particular courses of action. Know which parts of your book you're tackling when…and why.

3. Write with care

If you used your coconut, there's a good chance that you mailed your editor the best manuscript you could. After all, why would you send your editor 80,000 sloppily written words when you have to pay for each one? You no doubt rewrote the book several times, maybe even had your beta readers go through it, before you sent it out for its professional going-over.

Bear that in mind as you work on the editorial suggestions. Even if there are whole swaths of the plot you have to rewrite to address the issues your editor found, you can't afford to treat these new elements as first draft corrections or they won't be up to the caliber of your (formerly) finished product. Choose your words and your new plot constructions carefully as you go about putting your creation back together. The throw-words-at-a-wall-and-see-what-sticks method probably isn't going to work here.

4. Work with your editor

Once your subjective self is over hating the ground your editor walks on, there's a good chance your objective self will sift through your critique and examine each suggestion on its own merit, like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Some don't come close, some will look right but can't be made to fit, and others will be spot-on perfect.

Give yourself permission to have a dissenting opinion, but commit to working with your editor to find out the whys and why-nots of particular disagreements. Assuming that you made sure before you engaged your editor that you can contact her or him for post-critique brainstorming, quick assessments, even additional reads (and I would suggest you not work with an editor who won't offer these things), take advantage of the working relationship. Clarify murky points, ask for suggestions, propose fixes and offer up a battle plan for your rewrites. Your editor likely wants your manuscript to be the best it can be as much as you do.

Summary

I hope you find this strategy helpful. An editorial critique should be a tool for producing your top work, not a cause for despair. Grab that letter, make a plan, and get to work. With it, you're about to write the best words of your life.

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Matthew Iden writes fantasy, science fiction, horror, thrillers, crime fiction, and contemporary literary fiction with a psychological twist. His Marty Singer detective series debuted with A Reason to Live and continues with Blueblood. Signs, the third installment, will be out in early 2013.

You can find him on his website, his Facebook page and his Amazon author page.

What’s in your closet?

The Rockville 8 is proud to welcome Diane L. Kowalyshyn as guest blogger this week. Diane writes heart-hammering, tall-stake adventures—romantic suspense novels that run on high-voltage action, intrigue and intimacy. She is a daughter, sister, wife, mother, aunt, friend, and Seton Hill WPF MFA graduate, who in perpetuity, survives in Toronto, Canada. There’s only one skeleton left in her closet. Visit her at http://www.dianelkowalyshyn.com/.

Writers write.

We punch keyboards. We mutter or shout to ourselves or inanimate objects. With head-down diligence, we work to decipher and expand our fictitious worlds as they unfold.

If you’ve been writing for any length of time you have skeletons in your closet.

You know what I’m talking about. They’re the manuscripts you’ve locked away. You haven’t touched them in days, weeks, months, maybe even years. They gather dust because you’ve lost interest—maybe you couldn’t find them a home. They hang, untouched, because you can’t get rid of them. They’re an integral part of you. They mark your journey on this uphill climb and define you as a writer. They’re the carrion you’ve left behind.

Here’s the challenge. Don’t hide these bone-racks. Harvest them.

Time is on your side. Inactivity and separation have returned your objectivity. I guarantee your story is nothing like you remember. It’s much, much worse. But here’s the thing. There is no better way to affirm your growth as a writer than to revise a previous work. Everything you’ve learned is put to the test. My nemesis is grammar and I’ve found Claire Kehrwald Cook’s Line by Line to be a solid reference. She’s compiled great information on everything from modifiers, to conjunctions, to punctuation—she’s even attached a handy glossary of usage.

Shake those bones to make sure they still hold together. Revision tones flabby, drooping flesh into muscle. And muscle supports and fortifies the skeletal system. I use my own method to make sure the plot is solid. It’s called the Writer’s GPS—a tool I devised based on Deb Dixon’s GMC: Goal, Motivation & Conflict. Another good reference is James Scott Bell’s Revision & Self Editing. He breaks fiction down into a simple formula: CONCEPT + CHARACTERS x CONFLICT = NOVEL , and provides a process to sustain this formula. He calls it the LOCK system—lead (character), objective, confrontation, and knockout. If style books make you want to run and hide, or if you only have room for one revision book in your arsenal, I would recommend Renne Browne and Dave King’s Self-Editing for Fiction Writers. It’s the bible of all revision books. Seriously. I love it because not only does it show, it tells.

Add new flesh to those bones. There’s a reason you let them molder. If you were tired with the story concept then, no doubt you will be now, but not if you inject new life into the existing framework. Weave a fresh sub-plot throughout the story to get the creative juices flowing again. It will be the vascular connection that feeds the muscles and keeps those bones in motion. It will make the old concept new again.

Persevere. You’ll want to throw in the towel every single day and your muse won’t play fairly. She’ll interrupt you with various other more appealing story ideas and try to lead you astray. Don’t let her. Jot down those new ideas in a separate folder and get back to revising.

Why bother? Because you’ll get a return on all you put in. With your unfinished business fully fleshed out, you’ll be sitting pretty, ready to set off in search of that elusive Shangri-La—publication.