A Primer on Critique Partners … and Maybe Dating

Last Monday, we had one of our weekly chats on AgentQuery Connect (9pm Eastern, come for great writerly conversations). The topic was critique partners—choosing and using them—which seems to have been popular around the blogosphere in the last week. Nevertheless, because some AQCers missed the chat, I’m going to go ahead with a revamped recap.

Being critique partners is a lot like establishing and maintaining other relationships. In fact, it’s a lot like dating, when you think about it. Here are some Dos and Don’ts.

• Don’t commit to marriage before the first date. Swapping full manuscripts when you hardly know someone? Maybe it’ll be a match made in heaven … or maybe you’ll be stuck in a 300-page pickle. It’s not a bad idea to get to know someone and their writing before making a big commitment. Try swapping a chapter or two. See how it goes.

• Do communicate your needs/expectations. Chances are, your new critique partner isn’t a mind-reader. If you don’t mention that you don’t want grammar nits pointed out, you can’t really complain if that’s all your partner focuses on. Worried about plot holes and consistency? Character development? Historical authenticity? Say so.

• Don’t tear your partner down. This can be a tricky one, especially in conjunction with the next. The point of a critique partner is to help us improve our work. But if it’s all, “Fix this, fix that,” we can get discouraged to the point of not moving forward. When something works well, be sure to let your partner know.

• Do be honest. In my opinion (well, all of this is my opinion), if all we want is cheerleading, there are other ways to get that. Critique partners need to do more for each other. That means pointing out when we feel there may be issues in the manuscript. Pretending problems aren’t there won’t make them go away.

• Don’t feel locked in. If the relationship isn’t working, you can walk away. There’s nothing saying that great writer-friends will necessarily make great critique partners. Amicable break-ups are possible. It’s okay to play the field until you find the right match.

• Do have an open relationship. Er, I guess I could mean this in a couple of ways. It can be good to have more than one critique partner—long- or short-term. Some might be more suited to certain manuscripts. Some you might rely on for their particular strengths (which likely match up with your weaknesses). But also, within a single relationship, be open and receptive to what your partner says. If a critique is a little hard to hear, step away for a bit, then come back to it. Your partner may be right or wrong … or their feedback might trigger something entirely different in your mind that’ll make your story better.

If You Need Help, THEN TAKE IT!

I started something new last week. After I finish the lesson portion of class and it’s time to start on the homework, I have the kids move around. Those who feel like they’ve totally got it, ready to rock head to the back and work quietly. Those who are still feeling a little (or a lot) fuzzy come to the front, and I work with that smaller group on a few select problems from the homework.

The first day I did it was interesting. My A1 class had several takers who were like, “Dude, yes, help!” Most other classes, I had to twist some arms to get anyone to join in.

Second time around, though, more people joined in. I think some kids were like, “Uh, yeah, that actually looks helpful. Might be a good idea.”

It’s nice, because in those smaller groups, the struggling kids are more likely to ask questions, stop me when they don’t understand. I’m liking it. I think I’ll stick with it.

Still, some kids who I know really ought to join in are heading to the back and working with their friends instead. That’d be fine if their friends were helping them understand, but based on the daily quiz results and homework scores, it’s more likely their friends are breezing through the assignment and distracting them with random chatter instead.

It makes me mad at the struggling kids for not prioritizing. It makes me mad at their friends for not recognizing how much harder they’re making it.

I mean, I get it. Social pressure and all … not wanting to “look stupid.” I wish they’d notice that several popular kids are joining the extra-help group. Then again, an outward self-confidence often coincides with teen popularity. (Comes with its own problems, often under the surface, but that’s another post.)

I’ve only been through it two times with each class so far. I could force it, telling specific kids they have to come to the front. I’d rather not. For now, I give a strongly worded suggestion that if they didn’t get the homework done, struggled on the daily quiz, or got a bad grade last quarter, they really ought to join us.

Hopefully the more we do it, the less stigmatized kids will feel.

Slangifying Your Story

In the realm of YA writing in particular, slang of any kind is tricky, tricky business.

Slang and common expressions can make a teen voice feel more authentic. As someone who spends every workday listening to teenagers talk, I guarantee they’re not pulling exclusively from an official dictionary.

Then again, slang is—by its nature—fleeting. A few bits and pieces work their way into the long-term vernacular, but most are solidly dated. Just think about “groovy,” “bodacious,” and “fresh.” You just had certain decades flash through your mind, right? Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe that instant association is what you need.

More often, I’m thinking that’s not a good thing.

Let’s go back to my students for a minute. There are some who spout a near-constant stream of “totes obvi” and “YOLO.” (The one who says YOLO the most keeps doing it out of context. I’m not sure he really gets it. Or he likes to be annoying.) And here’s the thing about super of-the-moment phrases. It only takes about two minutes for the kids to sound like they’re trying too hard.

And it’s even easier for an author to sound the same way.

So how do you deal with it? Stick to the more long-standing forms of teen-talk? Use a strict rule like one super-trendy term per fifty pages? Only let a side character use them, make it their “thing”?

Honestly, I don’t know. I’m curious what you’ve found works, either from a writing or reading perspective.

I tend to work around it by writing science fiction and making up my own slang. Mindy McGinnis thinks I’m good at it. Hopefully others will agree.

One Term Down, Three to Go

First quarter ended last Friday at my school. Naturally, the past two weeks have been filled with kids desperate to get their F to a passing grade … or their A-minus to an A. And in order to keep on top of the late work, make-up work, and occasional piece of extra credit, I set aside the quizzes that won’t count until second quarter.

This means now I have large stacks of quizzes to grade. I knew this would happen. I was aware of the consequences for my decision.

Still … it kinda sucks.

It’s okay, though. I think at least a few kids figured out that desperately trying to raise their grade at the last minute is a lot more work than just keeping up through the term. As we start the new term, I’ll try to get the message through to a few more.

Now that I’ve got my feet under me, I’m also hoping to keep things a little more organized from here.

Here’s hoping.

"Teasing Your Friend" Doesn’t Make It Funny or Okay

Warning: A rant is about to ensue.

It’s nothing new. I imagine people have been tossing “joking” insults at their friends since the dawn of time, and especially boys. You’ve probably heard the type:

“Joe, you’re such a girl.” (Having two X chromosomes is an insult?)

“Hey, Larry likes guys.” (Besides it being untrue, what’s your point?)

“You’re so gay, Jeff.” (“Gay” as a vague catch-all synonym for stupid, clumsy, goofy, or whatever would actually fit the situation? … Must not kill the children with my laser-eyes.)

That’s when it’s tame, and I’ll let your imagination fill in when it’s not. I’m sure there’s some psychological/sociological explanation about male posturing, establishing dominance, or some other testosterone-fuelled phenomenon.

It drives me nuts.

What can I do about it? Probably not much. I try to take the extra moment for a stern “None of that in my classroom,” but it’s always met by the same thing:

“I’m just playing. Joe and I are buds. He knows I’m kidding.”

The kidding aspect of it doesn’t make it okay. I try to get that across (and get the class back on track with math, please-oh-please). It’s very trying-to-empty-the-ocean-with-an-eyedropper. When I briefly mentioned it on Twitter the other day, I added the hashtag #CallMeSisyphus.

Super frustrating. I’m not stopping anytime soon, though.

Here’s one reason why, aside from the fact that such “insults” are offensive, annoying, and unintelligent.

I know a guy, former student, now an adult, who’s come out. I imagine him sitting in my classroom years ago. I imagine those stupid comments getting tossed around every single day. Back then, I was a new teacher who barely knew how to keep thirty teenagers from killing each other for forty-five minutes, much less having her ears tuned in to the random banter. So, I really don’t know if it’s gotten worse, or if I was just too stressed about not knowing what the heck I was doing to notice.

But even assuming such comments weren’t lobbed at him directly (best-case scenario), I imagine how hearing it over and over made him feel.

Possibly he would have felt a little like I do when I hear that first type of insult: “You’re such a girl,” etc. Kind of like I feel when someone tells a guy they throw like a girl, and I want to respond with, “Yeah? Let me show you how to kick like a girl.”

The feeling is that even if it’s in so-called teasing, it holds an inherent assumption that being female or being gay or whatever is automatically inferior. Not worthy of respect.

Never mind that we’re human beings. All of us.

And I know I’ve said it before, but I don’t like this “looking-down” attitude on any front. Not Republicans talking trash about Democrats. Not atheists saying the religiously inclined are idiots.

You don’t have to agree with someone to show them respect. And it’s really not that hard.

Now, if only I could convince a few fourteen-to-fifteen-year-olds of that.

Any ideas?

Don’t Make Readers Take Your Word for It

Has this ever happened to you? You’re reading a book, there are a lot of good things going for it, you’re even enjoying some things … but you’re just not feeling it. You’re not even sure what “it” is. You just know you’re not feeling what you’re supposed to.

More specifically, you’re not believing what the characters feel. Something about the story as a whole isn’t authentic.

That’s the best word I can think of for it. Authenticity. It’s quite possibly one of the most difficult things to establish in our writing.

Or maybe it just is for me.

The thing is, it’s a characteristic of the piece as a whole, with a mix of different variables going into it. You can’t deconstruct it completely any more than you can break a baked cake down to its constituent ingredients.

We have to try, though. We can’t just learn from CPs and beta-readers that the gut-feeling authenticity isn’t there and throw up our hands. “Oh, well! So much for that story. Guess I’ll try another one.” We have to think about what might be factoring into it.

So I’ve pondered, and here are the first three that occurred to me.

1. Show, don’t tell. I know! How dare I trot that tired thing out? But think about it. “Telling” is, at its root, asking the reader to take your word for it that your character is angry or heartbroken or whatever. You can’t show everything (even trying would be a pain), but try to show enough.
2. Motivate actions (and reactions). If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you might remember my little theory about Front-End/Back-End Motivation. (If not, may I shamelessly suggest you read that and see what you think?) Lack of authenticity may stem from readers not buying into your characters’ choices.
3. Voice, voice, voice. If the voice is (or becomes) jarring, stilted, or otherwise not right, it knocks the reader out of the story. It becomes just words on a page, and the characters lose their realness.

Okay, that’s what I’ve got, but I’m sure there are other things that contribute to the problem. Any ideas?