It Takes a Village to Write a Book

I'll admit it. I never understood the reason to have a crit-partner, thinking that a story only needs one author. Right? Wrong. Call me St. Paul, but I have seen the light. I've felt the conversion from "know-it-all" to "don't-know-all-but-learning."

In theory, I'm a great writer, theory meaning it's what I tell myself in order to keep the inner critic's mouth shut. Besides, if I don't believe in myself, who will? But, the fact remains that without the helpful eyes of others, my work goes untested. It's just so-so, and other than friends and relatives telling me they "love" my writing, they're friends and relatives. Either they haven't written anything, or they want to say what they think I want to hear.

I don't want to hear accolades. I want the truth. And the only way I'll get the truth is from someone who knows what it takes to make my work better. Thus, an extra set of eyes necessary, keen ones that tell it like it is, even if it makes me cry.

I didn't cry. In fact, I wanted to book a flight to Raleigh just so I could hug and hug her. After sending her a chapter from my Epic In Progress, Marcia Colette said, "Oh honey, there's nothing happening in this chapter," or something like that.

Exactly what I needed to hear. Not only did she slap me up the side of my head, but she then beat me down to a pulp pointing out other errors of my ways.

That's what friends do. They care enough to let you have it, fearless of the outcome. And I'm finding that it takes more than moi to write a great book. Mind you, others have read my work. There was all those contest entries where I received good/bad/use-what-you-can-can-what-you-can't feedback. And let's not forget the agent rejection via a phone call, praising my voice, hating the main character. Those all helped me develop a thick-skin, however, Marcia backed up her claims with specific advice, ideas and details.

She pointed out why the main character wasn't cutting it and advice on how to improve him, that the back-story dumping should be removed but saved somewhere in order to use bits of it later, and finally, to make the prologue the first chapter (I wanted to dump it - but she convinced me otherwise).

Epiphany is a great thing. I still believe in myself, but I now realize that it takes more than that to arrive at greatness. I find that it's essential to put aside all the stubbornness, ego, and other rot that doesn't get the story into the hands of a savvy agent. It's time to wake up and accept the fact that in order to survive in this business, you gotta have friends who aren't afraid to be honest - friends caring enough to set you on the right path to success.

Maybe in my pre-epiphany phase I feared hearing the truth. Perhaps somewhere deep down I believed I could do this all by myself. Wrong again, and I've never been happier to admit that. Marcia knows me well and maybe that's key. And it's not that we're "crit-partners," it's that we've developed a bond over the years that breathes instinctual, no-holds-barred trust.

I believe all writers like to see others succeed. Maybe that's naive on my part, but in the circle of friends I've made since embarking on the road to publication, we all have each others backs. For instance, take my friend Edie Ramer, who once again has made it through to another round of The Romantic Times' American Title V contest. A few years back I needed help with a great agent hook. No one hooks like Edie. I sent her what I had; she sent back her suggestions, and I'll be damned, it was so brilliant that those I tested it on said, "Now that's a story I want to hear more about," or something like that. Suffice it to say, it kicked some serious buttocks, and that hook's going into my query, once I get that particular manuscript ready for the ride.

See? Writers want other writers to succeed. I want Edie to succeed like I'm the one in the American Title V contest. Since I'm not, myself and all my alter-egos have voted for Edie at votes@romantictimes.com. You can read her entry here, and then cast your vote, putting "DEAD PEOPLE" in the subject line of your email.

Returning from that segue, I'll conclude with this thought: That the greatest writers didn't get to where they are today on ego. I believe it was with a little help from their friends that got them there. It has to be the case, otherwise there wouldn't be all those lengthy acknowledgments at the end of most books, right? Perhaps the day will come that I won't need the extra help, but I can't imagine not wanting it.

So what say you, my fellow writing aficionados? Crit-groups, crit-partners, beta-readers, or go it all by your lonesome?

Don't forget to vote for my friend Edie.

Can't Take The Heat?

How do you take your truth? Sugar-coated, sweet through and through, or like a shot of freezing water, not what you want, but getting your attention?

My beautiful daughter came home one day, her once striking blonde hair dyed black. Before I could open my mouth, she asks, "How do you like my hair? Isn't it cool?" Her smile beamed as she flipped her hair over one shoulder. Well, what could I say? Obviously, she loved it. I knew I had only a few seconds to answer, and in that time I debated between honesty or telling her what she wanted to hear.

I went with diplomacy. I said something like, "Looks good," and she said, "You don't like it, do you?" She pushed for more, right? I said, "It's not that I don't like it, it's just that I'm used to seeing you with blonde hair, yada-yada..."

She expected raves. "Everyone at work LOVED it!" she said. So I guess that meant that I didn't know what the hell I was talking about, or, maybe the people at work realized that hey, they had to work with her everyday, so they just kept it unreal. Better to hide true thoughts than upset the work place.

I suppose it's always easier to tell a person what you think they want to hear. But, on the other hand, when asked "What do you think?" I take it as a person looking for an honest opinion.

Or are they just fishing for compliments?

As a writer who thinks her work is Nobel worthy, I, too, like to hear accolades. However, over the years I've developed a thick skin. I had to because not everyone thought I deserved a Nobel. What I've learned over the years is that whenever you seek out opinions, be prepared to accept them all. ALL OF THEM.

The first time I entered a writing contest I received some "in my face" comments. At the time I was flabbergasted. Crushed. How dare that person say such a thing?

Did I want to smack that person up the side of her head? Yep. Did her comments stall my writing? Only for a day, and then I got back on my bike and decided to view it as a challenge. I worked harder. I had something to prove, not to the contest judge, but to myself.

As time went on and after several contest entries, I learned that if you want to play in the big leagues, you have no choice but to take the harsh with the good. Contests were a great lesson in developing a thick skin. They prepared me for the next step: being viewed by agents and/or editors.

I believe that to achieve greatness you have to take the bumpy path. The pain of it all. Small steps first; one toe in testing the waters. Little by little the writing improves until you hear more nice things than bad. And with every step the skin gets thicker in preparation for the day your book ends up in the hands of a reviewer.

Thick skin is a by product of honesty. Criticism can be a harsh mistress, but it's the nasty tasting medicine that makes you better. It's all part of the process. As writers, we know this.

Then why is it when asked for our opinion, we take a step back and worry about hurting feelings? Shouldn't the writer asking for the opinion expect honesty? Maybe not. Perhaps the writer just needs their ego stroked. But does that do him/her any favors? It's only human to want to be great and to think your work is the next Nobel winner. But if the story you've been requested to read barks, what favor are we doing the writer by saying, "Oh this story is fabulous! Pick out a new dress, honey, because I hear Oprah's people calling your name."

No favor at all in my opinion. Just speaking for myself, but if the story I want to submit to agents or editors has some in-your-face issues, I want to know about it. I'm not turning my work over for opinion just so my ego gets a stroke. Hell no. I can handle it.

In fact, I recently was subject to scrutiny in the form of a writing contest. One of the judges first pointed out what she loved, and then she got down to the nitty-gritty, pointing out the flaws. And she was spot-on with her observation. Valuable advice that I'll always adhere to.

That particular judge was akin to Randy Jackson of the American Idol judging panel. You know the types. They'll give you props for the good, but not hold back on telling you what needs work.

Yet, in my experience over the years, I've found many writers can't handle the truth. One writer once told me that she quit writing for ten years as a result of bad comments from a contest judge. Said judge indicated that in her opinion, the story wasn't any good. Maybe that writer would rather have a Paula Abdul on her side. You know Paula. She always slurs some sweetness, never saying anything critical because she's afraid of destroying "The Dream."

Ten years of no writing only tells me that the person wasn't serious about it in the first place. Tell me my story is bad, and I'll first ask for another opinion, and then rip it apart to make it better, not toss my entire dream out the window. Only the weak do that.

And in the writing business, weakness has no business.

Sure, criticism's effect has a lot to do with its delivery. But I'll say this, and I've given it plenty-o-thought, if someone credentialed in the business tells me my story sucks ass, I'll take it.

But I'd be kidding myself if I said harsh words don't bother me. They do, but if coming from a reliable source, I can take it. And like I said, harsh hurts and it used to really hurt, but I started getting over it when I began studying Simon Cowell closely on American Idol. His words, that is. Okay, I sort of like looking at him, and I hear his girlfriend dumped him. Hello, Simon...if you're free I got a manuscript needing some ripping apart, maybe over cocktails...?

Back to my point. American Idol's three judges' opinions differ in every degree. Each has a different way of pointing out flaws, and no one does is with as much zeal as Simon Cowell.

Simon Cowell. The man is a mega-mogul in the music industry. The credits to his resume could fill a ream of paper, maybe two. His comments are, at times, caustic. He makes artists cry. But the ones who never shed a tear, took his comments, sour as they were, and learned from them. Maybe at times he forced some to want to quit all together, and if his words had that sort of power, then maybe the artist was in the wrong business all together.

Because if you can't take the heat from someone who knows what they're talking about, it's time to re-think your profession. That's the nature of the beast - taking the bad with the good and knowing the difference. Cowell is harsh, but he also gives props where due. His sincerity is as strong as his digs.

I like that in a person. But then again, I'm a person who prefer honesty over omitting the truth. If I know my potential, I'll most likely agree. But I'll only take harsh truth from a person who has been in the business, has more knowledge and credits to back up their claims, than I do.

And I'll take any other opinion, thoughts, criticisms, etc., that are given by people whose opinions I value. I want to succeed. And I want do it with eyes wide open, taking the harsh with the good. It's a valuable part of reaching my dream, and I want to get there based on hearing the utter truth from whomever happens to view my work.

It's essential.

Thoughts? How do you take your truth?