Category Archives: critiques

August 15, 2012   Miriam   authors, classics, critiques, favorites, fiction, fun, Miriam, opinion  
7

The sense of a beginning

As we’ve discussed many times on this blog, a truly great opening line to a novel is the holy grail for those who read and write for a living.  A beautiful, evocative, powerful first sentence can mean the difference between committing to a 600-page journey or picking up the remote.  The truth is, most novels, even the ones we decree to be masterpieces, don’t have particularly memorable opening lines.

For instance:  “The madness of an autumn prairie cold front coming through.”

Or, “When the lights went off, the accompanist kissed her.”

Or, “The play—for which Briony had designed the posters, programs and tickets, constructed the sales booth out of a folding screen tipped on its side, and lined the collection box in red crepe paper—was written by her in a two-day tempest of composition, causing her to miss a breakfast and a lunch.”

These are the first sentences of three of my favorite novels of the past decade or so.  Solid openers, certainly, but nothing of the caliber of “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”  I believe that these three books (The Corrections, Bel Canto, and Atonement in case you hadn’t guessed) will become classics (if they haven’t already) despite the fact that Franzen, Patchett, and McEwan didn’t knock it out of the park with their first swing.

I just started reading Gone Girl and because it has been hyped to the heavens by everyone I know who’s read it, I was looking for a brilliant start.  And…it’s fine.  It made me want to keep reading but it didn’t grab me in a vice grip and drag me into the book.  To be honest, it felt a bit forced and writerly.  So far, however, the novel’s terrific and living up to the reviews.

My point, and I do have one, is that the first line doesn’t have to be mind-blowing.  It just needs to be good, intriguing, well written.  It should pique your curiosity even if it doesn’t turn you into a quivering mass of anticipation.  Ah, but the next 90,000 words need to keep you interested.   And, then you can try again—with a stunning closer that stays with you long after you’ve finished the book.

Of course, if that’s all too much trouble, you can do what these folks did and write some truly gruesome first sentences.  They will definitely grab someone’s attention.

What are the first lines from novels you’ve loved that didn’t exactly knock your socks off?  And why did you keep reading anyway?

July 12, 2012   Stacey   advice, critiques, feedback, rejection, Stacey  
4

The positive power of rejection

The longer you live, the more rejection you are faced with. It’s as natural a part of life as breathing. As a writer, you put yourself in a position to face more rejection than the average person (actors probably have a leg up on writers, though, in the rejection department). How you handle that part of the process is key to your success. If you give up too quickly, you’ll never get where you want to go. If you take it personally, you’ll wind up angry and resentful. But if you use it to make your writing better, and take the feedback that rejections sometimes offer and revise your work to make it the best it can be, then you’re really getting somewhere that could wind up being great. Perhaps not necessarily what you originally envisioned, but even better than that.

I enjoyed reading this recent article from writersdigest.com about Aminta Arrington’s winding road to publication. She describes the various agents with whom she corresponded and how their feedback shaped and changed the book she wound up writing and selling to a publisher. While not all agents or editors can offer the type of constructive feedback it sounds like she received, there are certainly other places to go to get feedback on your book, whether it’s from teachers, beta readers, writers’ groups, or your most insightful friends and family. Taking the idea of rejection and spinning it into a chance for growth and introspection is a worthwhile concept.

And it got me to wondering about our own blog readers and their experiences with the positive power of rejection. I’d love to hear your stories of how a rejection shaped your work in a positive (or negative – sometimes enough rejection can get you thinking about a new project instead of staying stuck on an old one that isn’t working) way. And it doesn’t have to be agent or publisher rejection. Maybe it’s a friend who told you they didn’t like something you’d written, or a teacher who gave you a grade lower than you thought you deserved until you heard his or her explanation and realized maybe it really wasn’t your best work. Please share your  positive rejection stories and then we can all work on trying to remember to see the glass half full approach to rejection from now on.

November 15, 2011   John   critiques, John, middle grade, opinion, SCBWI, writing, YA  
18

What grabs you?

I just spent a great weekend in Gettysburg, PA, at an SCBWI conference—incredibly well organized, plus delightful, inspiring keynote addresses by Patricia MacLachlan and E.B. Lewis. My only regret is that I wish I could have sat in on the break-out workshops and speeches, but I was booked solid with one-on-one manuscript critiques all day Saturday and Sunday morning. For each critique, I was sent the first 10 pages of a YA or MG novel, plus a one-page synopsis, in advance of a 15-minute session with the author. Which leads me to the question at hand…

Whenever I have a lot of critiques in a row (fifteen, in this case), as the day goes on I usually end up identifying one or two key issues that come up in multiple manuscripts. This time out, it seemed like a lot of the openings were rushed—to me, it almost felt like authors were consciously trying to smush all the key ingredients of characterization, setting, conflict, symbolism, voice, etc., into those precious ten pages for my review. However, when I asked if any had tailored their samples specifically for the critique, the answer was a resounding “no.”

Hence, I’m wondering: What’s the main thing you look for in a story? Do you want to meet the main character? Find out the central issue of the book? Dive right into the plot? Or do you want it all? I will say, in several of these critiques I found myself advocating for the author to slow down and let us get to know the main character before diving headfirst into the plot. But maybe that’s just me—which element gets you turning the pages?

October 27, 2011   Michael   advice, conferences, critiques, Michael  
6

Conference consternation

I took to Twitter today for some blog suggestions, and Rina Heisel wanted to know what mistakes I see writers making at conferences. I see lots of thems, but here’s my top 10 do’s and don’ts of conference going:

10. Come prepared to talk about your book without reading something. When I sit down for a pitch, or even just begin a casual conversation, I want you to be able to tell me about your book briefly without reading a script. Other people seem to have a memorized pitch, word-for-word, and stare at me intently as they try to remember each one. Nothing is more unsettling. Instead of doing that, imagine you’re telling me about your job, family or hobbies. You don’t memorize a speech to discuss those, you know them intimately enough to simply talk about them. Be as familiar with your book.

9. If you’re meeting with an agent or editor, find out a little about them in advance. The person may not be the best match for your work, but they can still provide helpful feedback. Knowing what they do in advance can help you to get the most out of your meeting.

8. Don’t be shy! Take the opportunity to meet as many other writers and publishing professionals as you can. Be polite, of course, but don’t hesitate to talk to people. I go to conferences specifically to educate authors–take advantage of that.

7. Have realistic expectations. Know what you want out of the conference, and set achievable goals. Scoring an agent or getting a request from an editor is always great, but it rarely happens. If you’re just starting out, a good goal might be getting professional feedback on your query or novel opening.

6. Make sure to take advantage of all the conference has to offer, from speeches, to classes, to workshops, to critiques, to social occasions. It’s all part of the experience.

5. Don’t forget that it was your first conference at some point! Embrace new attendees as much as you do old friends.

4. Dress comfortably, in appropriate casual attire. You don’t want to wear a business suit, but you also shouldn’t be wearing sweats.

3. Don’t be nervous! Conferences are typically a very lively, supportive environment. We publishing professionals aren’t all that scary. Conferences are NOT a requirement of our jobs, and we choose to attend them. We’re going on our spare time, and we want to be there. And most of us don’t bite.

2. Be ready to accept criticism. It can be tough hearing about problems with your work in person, and if you’re not ready for it, don’t sign up for a critique. The worst thing is to be defensive or hostile, and believe me, it happens all the time. It does’t help you, and it makes the critiquer feel as though he’s wasted his time. It doesn’t reflect well on your ability to handle a business filled with rejection, either.

1. Behave professionally. Don’t wear costumes. Don’t slip manuscripts under the stall door in the bathroom. Don’t drink to excess at gatherings. Publishing is a very small community, and bad behavior is remembered. While conferences should be fun, remember that you’re in a business environment and behave accordingly.

I think conference attendees may have even more tips, so please share them in the comments!

September 20, 2011   Stephanie   advice, critiques, opinion, queries, slush, Stephanie, suggestions, writing  
6

What’s the story

I’ve noticed something recently in many of the queries I receive: the writer wants to tell me all about the emotional journey of the story, but they aren’t telling me the actual story. Quite often, it feels like I’m given a general premise and a resolution but I don’t actually know what happens between the first and last pages.

Let’s think about this a bit. What is a story? It’s action, plot, and characters that are going places and doing things. Ideally for the writer, the problem is with the pitch (easy to fix) rather than with the entire book (not as easy to fix). Remember: the emotional journey of a character is reflected in the action of the story. But the story itself is just that—action, characters making moves that are always working towards a goal.

Here’s an example of what I’m talking about. (Note: this is not a real query):

(Protagonist)’s life has not been easy, but she’s made it through. Surviving a decidedly rough upbringing, she must cope with the pain of her mother’s violent drug abuse from a very early age.

Okay, we’re getting somewhere…

Vowing to never fall into the same traps as her mother, she relocates to a new city to start her entire life over. She must battle each day to find happiness and contentment, and not let her demons rule her life.

Keep going…

However, she feels that the memories of her past are never far behind. Throughout the story, she has to learn that we’re all human and that her mother needs her help. Ultimately, she forgives her mother and gets her into treatment.

Wait, hang on. What actually happens in the novel?

When it comes to distilling your entire novel into one paragraph for your query—a task I do not envy—you must zero in on the main characters and plot points. The emotional journey of a book is important, but when it comes to the pitch, be sure to convey the actual story first, and bring in the broader themes after.

September 15, 2011   Jessica   controversy, critiques, culture, Jessica  
4

Not So Easy Reading

I am still working my way through the New Yorker’s September 12th issue, which like most everything published this last month, is largely about 9/11, and no easy read. Given the state of the American economy, the possible implosion of the EuroZone, the poisonous political discourse, two terrible wars still ongoing, assorted natural disasters here and abroad, it’s hard not to feel a little, well, down.

Here’s a representative sampling. In his article “Coming Apart,” http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2011/09/12/110912fa_fact_packer, George Packer writes: “In previous decades, sneak attacks, stock market crashes, and other great crises became hinges on which American history swung in dramatically new directions. But events on the same scale…no longer have the power: moneyed interests may have become too entrenched, elites too self seeking, institutions too feeble, and the public too polarized and passive for the country to be shocked into fundamental change.”

Ouch.

For me, like most folks who love the written word, one of the joys of reading is escapism. None of that here, but even such dismal fare is not without its rewards. Indeed, just as a good piece of writing can keep the real world at bay, so too can it bring it into provocative, all-too-proximate focus. (Escapism and engagement, are I guess, two sides of the same literary coin.) Packer’s article sent my head to my hands and my heart to my feet, but it was still thoughtful, effective, well-argued, and a pleasure to read. Regardless of whether you agree with Packer’s particular arguments about the past decade, Cassandras of every ideological stripe abound, and the best of them deliver their bad news breathtakingly well. As I’m sure many of you would agree, writing about bleak subjects is hard. Even setting aside the human inclination to shoot the messenger, leading readers over unpleasant terrain is risky. It’s easy to sound shrill, sentimental, paranoid, preachy or hysterical. I’m curious to see how Tom Friedman and Michael Mandelbaum handle this in THAT USED TO BE US, a book about America’s decline, which I will read from under my bed. Just in case the sky is falling. Apropos of the Chicken Little school of publishing, Adam Gopnik has a very entertaining review of a spate of “declinist” books titled “Decline, Fall, Rinse, Repeat” including the Friedman, which cheered me up. A little.

How about you? Would you (broadly) categorize your recent reading as escapism or engagement?

August 24, 2011   Miriam   critiques, culture, editing, fun, Miriam, opinion, sarcasm  
9

A snark’s snark

I’m not sure it’s legal to work in publishing and not love Dorothy Parker.  The dame’s snarkiness has inspired millions of mean rejection letters from editors so ground under by their thankless jobs that the only joy they find in their dark, miserable lives is putting their rage (at incoherent prose, ill-formed thoughts, ridiculous storylines) on their publisher’s letterhead and sending it out to agents, who take the blow for their clients.

It’s not just editors.  Ms. Parker is also the patron saint of agents who have to sift through unreadable queries (see Jim’s blog posts on this topic), spend their evenings with manuscripts so flawed you literally don’t know where to begin pointing out problems, and stare agape at vicious e-mails from authors who did not take kindly to their form letter rejection or clients who took even less kindly to their attempts at righting their sinking ships.  I think all of us here at DGLM have at one time or another crafted bitingly sarcastic, splendidly caustic, unimaginably cruel letters in response to an offensive query or manuscript.  And, then, we’ve hit “delete” and taken the high, boring, inoffensive road.

In fact, I think all intelligent readers have a bit of Dorothy Parker in them.  How often have you wanted to throw a book across the room in bitter disappointment or indulged in homicidal fantasies about a bestselling author you’re convinced was taught to write by feral monkeys?  How about when, as Jane recently mused, you plod through a book everyone has touted as the best thing since Nutella only to find that you hate, hate, hate it (The Help, anyone)?

Unfortunately, in this era of political correctness and “everybody wins” thinking, Ms. Parker’s take-no-prisoners approach to criticism is becoming obsolete.  Which is why we should treasure every snarky word and phrase…like these.

C’mon, get mean.  Share some imaginary putdowns you’d throw out about a book or author you just can’t stand.

September 01, 2010   DGLM   advice, critiques, From the Vault, Miriam  
2

From the Vault: Critical response

Happy summer, everybody!  For the next while, there are going to be some absences from the blog as we take vacations, but we’d hate to leave you guys hanging.  It’s no secret that we blog much more now than when we started this baby, and there are far more of you reading than there were way back when.  So we thought we’d bring back some blog entries of days gone by that you may have missed if you just joined us in the last year.  We’ve cued up enough, but if you have any favorites you think your fellow readers might enjoy, give us a shout below!

by Miriam

I hate it when I’m wrong. My type-A tendencies and absolute certainty that I know everything are not a good combination when it comes to taking criticism. Soon after I started working with Jane Dystel (sometime in the Paleozoic Era) she pointed out to me that my editorial memos were mean. I was affronted. I was trying to help authors by giving them the benefit of my brilliant insights and I really didn’t have time to soft-soap my comments! I’m sure Jane was laughing internally when she suggested that maybe I should start my missives with a positive comment or two about the work and then offer my honest opinion in a thoughtful, sensitive way without showing off or trying to make the recipient feel like a no-talent slob. She was right, of course, and I learned that if the goal is to have an author improve his/her work, I needed to be nicer when I offered my feedback. Jane made me realize that we are more likely to digest and respond well to criticism if it’s offered with kindness and sensitivity rather than relish and disdain. It was, for me, an invaluable lesson.

The fact is that a big and important part of our job as agents is to offer constructive criticism that will take a proposal or manuscript to the level it needs to be at in order to maximize our chances of selling it. All of us here at DGLM spend a great deal of time on our clients’ projects helping authors to clearly communicate their message, smooth over rough prose, beef up a weak marketing section, etc. Sometimes, it’s our unpleasant task to tell someone that their work is simply not good enough and that no amount of fixing is going to change that.

In my experience, the best, most talented authors are the ones who take their criticism neat. They knock it back with a big gulp, thank you for your time and effort in reviewing and critiquing their materials, take a little while to process what you’ve told them, and do their best to incorporate your comments and suggestions into that piece of fiction or nonfiction they thought was perfect when they sent it in to you with the expectation that you’d be able to immediately sell it for six figures. These authors put their egos and bruised pride aside (no matter how successful they are) and get to work. They ask follow-up questions and evenly discuss why they think they might or might not agree with one or more of your edits. The result, more often than not, is a much improved proposal or manuscript that has a much better shot at the big time and an author who is genuinely grateful for the help.

Then there are those authors who never get past their anger and disappointment and whose reactions range from the merely childish, “I’m taking my marbles and going elsewhere,” to the unprofessional, “You suck and you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Recently, an author suggested that both his editor (someone who’d been successfully plying her craft for over a decade) and I were mistaken in our critique of his work, strongly implying that neither one of us had understood his category well enough to be able to comment intelligently on his novel. His words were offensive in a way that our criticism had not been. We were both trying to help him.

I sincerely believe that authors (or any artist for that matter) must be able to defend their vision of and approach to their work. But, they should also have the ability (and humility) to look at the manuscript they’ve slaved away on for months or years and see it as a living, evolving thing that is never going to be absolutely perfect and that will probably benefit from an informed and caring review. They should also understand that in this agent/client partnership it’s in no one’s interest to purposely give bad advice and that only a sadist takes pleasure in inflicting pain. Over the years, I’ve come to the conclusion that knowing how to take criticism with grace is an indicator of success in our business. It’s often what separates those who have thriving writing careers and those who just sit around darkly muttering over their rejection letters.

Almost twenty years after that enlightening conversation with Jane, I’ve figured out that I don’t, in fact, know everything, and so I rely on instinct, experience, my skills as a lifelong, passionate reader, and hard-earned knowledge of our business when I offer authors criticism of their work. The whole point is to sell their novel or nonfiction and to set them on the path to successful writing careers. Ultimately, we, as agents, don’t succeed unless our clients do.

Originally posted in February 2007.

February 16, 2010   DGLM   critiques, guest post, Jim, our clients, writing  
23

Beta reader basics, a guest post

by Jim

For something a little different today, we have a guest blog post from my wonderful and talented client Jennifer Schubert whose hugely exciting thriller, BROKEN, is out on submission right now!

Jenn contacted me last week about whether we wanted to post on our thoughts on authors critiquing each other’s work. But ours is such an outsider’s perspective on this. My take is that feedback is always wonderful if you can take it in constructively. I’ve never been in the position of taking it since I don’t write, and when I offer it, it’s from a sales perspective. So I thought it made more sense for the expert herself to offer up some bon mots. And happily, Jenn provided us with the below!

Why a beta reader?

Every writer needs feedback. We crave it, for one. That’s what writing is about, the exhibition of the soul, the desire to tell a story and to be judged by it. Every piece of work should be run through a filter, preferably an impartial one, to show where we’re going wrong. Because we are going wrong somewhere. No one is perfect. Everything can stand improvement.

One of the best learning tools is to switch sides and be a beta reader. I’ve learned as much about writing by critiquing others’ works as I have by writing myself. It’s much easier to see the flaws in other people’s work than our own.

How to give a crit without breaking a heart

I’ve been privileged to do a lot of beta reading in my writing journey. I’m a believer in the “sandwich” technique: single out a good thing first, then tackle some of the problem areas, and close with another good thing. Not everyone agrees with this approach, but I’ve found people respond better if criticism is softened with praise, and there’s always something to praise. (An English teacher of mine used to tell people, a bit desperately, “You have lovely handwriting.”)

How to take a crit without throwing a fit

The reaction to a critique ranges widely, but generally falls into two categories. The first group meets a critique, no matter how gentle, with defensiveness. Their reaction is to argue. You, the beta reader, just didn’t understand what the writer was trying to say. Sure, you say, but if you have to explain it to me, it wasn’t very well-written, was it?

The second group says “thank you” and buckles down to edits. A few hours, days, or weeks later, you get the material back and it’s better. You suggest more changes, more tweaks. They go back to work. Maybe the end result isn’t perfect, but they’re willing to work hard to make it as good as it can be.

Like many of us, I started out in the first, or thin-skinned, group. I was fortunate to have a mentor who talked me out of that. Because I wanted to be a writer so badly, I toughened up. Of course hearing that your work isn’t letter-perfect is hard, but the critiquer’s job is to help. Maybe they’re paying it forward. Maybe they believe in you, believe in your work, and want to help make it better.

My question for you is: which group are you in? Are you thin-skinned, or are you tough enough to take a critique designed to help make your writing better? And are you critiquing for others? If so, what are you learning from it?