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Posts Tagged ‘Amy Sundberg’

Today is my birthday! I really love birthdays. I look forward to mine for months every year. And this year I’m prepared with a wider than usual selection of birthday books. So think of me lounging in the sun with one of these titles: Naamah’s Blessing, by Jacqueline Carey; The Wanting Seed, by Anthony Burgess; Flashback, by Dan Simmons (his Hyperion series is genius, by the way. Just saying.); or Bumped, by Megan McCafferty. Decisions, decisions!

To celebrate on the blog, I’m writing a birthday edition of five things that make me happy. In this case, I’m choosing five things from the last year.

1. Blog: First things first. This blog turns one year old later this week, sharing a birthday week with me. I thought that starting a serious blog sounded fun, but I had no idea how much I would enjoy it. Not only have I become a better writer as a result of blogging, but the blog gets me writing (and keeps me writing) even when pretty much nothing else can. I love having a platform to share my ideas and philosophies, and I adore that doing something so fun is part of my job. How awesome is that?

2. New Friends: When I think of all the new friends I have met in the last year, it feels almost unreal to me. To make myself even happier, I’m going to fudge and count my Taos Toolbox comrades in this number as well, even though I met them a year and a few weeks ago (although even without fudging, it’s been a truly amazing year in the friend department). I have been honored to meet and spend time with some of the most intelligent, thoughtful, kind, and interesting people this year. And I keep meeting more!

3. First Pro Sale: Yup, have to mention this, a big milestone in my writing career. I can’t wait till this story comes out, hopefully later this year!

4. Husband and Little Dog: Day in and day out, my husband and little Nala are always there for me. They celebrate my successes and they comfort me through the hard and painful times. They make it easy to be happy.

5. Becoming More Me:You guys have seen some of this here on the blog, with me writing about people pleasing and running the Backbone Project. Happily this is something that is happening even more offline than it is online. After years of plugging away at becoming more assertive, it’s finally happening! Granted, I have a lot more work to do, but I’m making fabulous progress.

There sure are a lot of photos of me wearing a lei floating around....

So there you have it, five things that make me want to bounce up and down, wear bright colors, and sing while I brush my teeth. Here’s to another year featuring more of the same!

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Many of you will remember my first backbone post in which I gave my own take on how critiques can go wrong. Now, I think that critiques can sometimes be an extremely helpful tool for writers, so I’d like to talk about my ideal critique. Before I begin, though, I’d like to emphasize that all writers are different. Thus, my idea of an ideal critique and your idea of an ideal critique may in fact be radically different. I’m not saying that my ideas are the only right ideas. There are several different styles of learning, so it follows that there are probably several helpful ways of critiquing. The trick is to figure out which one works for you. If what works for you is ignoring everything I’m about to say, more power to you!

For me, critiques are all about learning. When I’m receiving a critique, I’m doing so in order to learn more about writing and to improve my writing abilities. While it is lovely when critiques end up making my story stronger, that is not my primary motivation for seeking critiques. Instead, my goal is to continue to improve by gaining insight into what works and what doesn’t work. When I’m giving a critique, I’m doing the same thing: trying to teach the writer in question by pointing out what worked and didn’t work for me as a reader.

One thing I am not trying to learn from critiques is how to deal with rejection. I understand that others feel differently, but honestly, I get plenty of practice dealing with rejection by…getting rejected. There is no shortage of editors and agents happy to help me out in this regard, except with them, there is always at least the chance that they will instead decide to help advance my career and/or give me monies! Another thing I’m not looking for in critiques is warm and fuzzy validation that everything I write is awesome. If everything I wrote was awesome, I’d be getting warm and fuzzy validation from my fans, who would be–guess what!–paying monies to read my work. Yes, I know, again with the monies. Notice a trend?

I look at critique as a learning process between colleagues; therefore, my main focus is on how I can help the other writer, and this focus informs my delivery. My husband tells me that people get promoted into higher tiers of management partially because of their ability to deliver bad news. Delivering bad news well is hard! And yet this is, I believe, an essential skill in giving a good critique because almost every critique is going to include the bad news that our work isn’t perfect (and it might even be hanging together precariously with paper clips and duct tape).

Here are some guiding principles that I try to think about as I critique:

1. Mention the positives as well as the negatives. It is so tempting not to do this, and instead just focus on what’s broken. Sometimes, honestly, it’s hard to even think of any positives. But not only does this leave the writer more receptive to thinking about any criticism, it also shows the writer what she’s doing right, what she shouldn’t mess with, and what her strengths are (that she can showcase and allow to shine in future work).
2. Discuss what doesn’t work in a matter-of-fact and positive manner. Example A: “I can’t believe you used all those adverbs. There were just adverbs adverbs adverbs flying all over the place. Get rid of those goddamned adverbs, okay? It was just so bad how you used all those adverbs.” Example B: “I noticed you used a lot of adverbs. I’d suggest going back through and deciding which of them you actually need.” Example A makes people feel bad and stupid and discourages experimentation. But if you’re not experimenting as a writer and taking risks, how are you ever going to get better? (Note I am not actually advocating vast amounts of experimentation with adverbs in particular.) Example B or something similar is what I prefer.
3. State your points in a clear and concise manner. So often I hear people speak at length about one point of criticism that they could have easily expressed in a few sentences. In a verbal critique, using loads of examples to make your point is not required. Instead, mark them on the hard copy of the manuscript or in track changes, and summarize when you’re speaking. The writer can always ask questions later if something is not clear.
4. Use ditto freely. Another thing I hear a lot is several critiquers waxing long about the same point, one after the other. There is no need to do this. Instead, just say, “I ditto Katherine that the beginning seemed slow” and move on. My Taos crew were experts at doing just this, and it was amazing how much it sped critiques along…as did the two-minute time limit per person.
5. Decide what key points you wish to make verbally ahead of time. Prepare for the critique as you would for a lesson. (Can you see my teacher background here?) Consider typing up a summary sheet of your critique that you can give to the writer afterwards. I know a few writers who are masterful at doing this, and I always look forward to receiving critiques from them.
6. Help the writer by talking about their story, not yours. We all have the types of stories we like to read, and the types of stories we like to write. These types might not be the same for other writers! (I know, it’s shocking, but there it is.) Give feedback and suggestions while keeping in touch with the story you think the writer was trying to tell instead of figuring out what story you would be telling. The second rarely provides a useful learning experience since it mostly just reflects your own personal taste.
7. Critique with an eye towards making clear the promise and/or vision of the story. Benjamin Rosenbaum said something very intelligent in the comments of my critique backbone post. “I think detailed, specific positive critiques — not just cheerleading, but analysis of what worked — are actually more useful than negative ones which focus on what’s not working. Both are useful, but in the end you want to revise towards a vision, not away from problems. Doing the latter will result in a dead story — all rough corners smoothed away, with what’s left being something no one would object to, but no one is excited about either.” What he said. If we as critiquers can help the writer hone his vision, then we’ll leave him excited, both to potentially revise this story and to write in general.
8. Be encouraging. There is no reason for a writer to leave a critique feeling like a swollen and bloody rat. Honestly, I don’t care how bad the piece might have been. If a writer is regularly working and improving, there is something to be encouraging about, whatever the flaws. I’m not saying to lie and say this was the best story you’ve ever read, but a few kind words acknowledging that the writer has worked hard can go a long way. No, editors and agents won’t usually give these words. That’s why it’s even more important that they be given by supportive colleagues.

Of course, this list covers my ideal critique. In practice, I often fall short in execution, but it is what I strive for. I have been lucky enough to receive many fine critiques that have taught me both how to be a better writer and how to critique with an eye towards helping a writer learn instead of tearing them down.

What is your ideal critique? What are your guiding principles when you’re preparing a critique? What about giving a critique do you find the most difficult? Let me know!

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Why I Write YA

Ooh, it’s reader question time! I adore good reader questions. Derek asks, “I’m rather curious about the distinction between YA and “regular”/adult fiction writing.  What makes you prefer one over the other?” (He actually asked a couple other really good questions about YA too, but I’m going to save them for another post.) I have blogged about why I like to read YA, but not why I like to write it. One of my first reactions was that I don’t necessarily prefer writing YA to writing adult fiction, but then I thought about it some more, and yeah, I kind of do prefer it. We will pass very quickly over my one attempt at writing an adult novel, which was an unmitigated disaster, and take a look at my short fiction, which I write to sell to so-called “adult” markets. Even so, most of my short stories include characters who are kids, teens, or college-aged. Not all, but most.

I think the reason for this preference is that I love teenagers. A lot of adults look at me kind of funny when I make statements like this (especially if they are parents of teenage children), but there it is. I think teenagers are great. I love teaching teenagers; as a group, they have consistently been my favorite age to teach (and I add preteens into this group, so think ages 11-18 or so).

Teenagers are so inspiring to me. They have most of their lives in front of them, and they genuinely believe they can accomplish great things. Many of them are passionate and smart, ambitious and driven. Sometimes they are complete wrecks, but they haven’t ossified into their wreckitude.  They also haven’t developed the thicker persona that so many adults have, so they feel very, very real. They’re in the thick of trying to figure stuff out, complicated life stuff, and their emotions are flying all over the place, and who knows how it will all end up? Teenagers are exciting.

In a typical conversation with a teenager, they’ll talk about their friends and some recent friend/boy drama, or they’ll talk about school work. They’ll talk about their interests with huge amounts of enthusiasm once they’ve gotten comfortable with you. They’ll talk about their plans and/or dreams for the future, they’ll talk about the problems they’re having with their parents, they’ll talk about prom (or fill-in-the-blank Big Event). They laugh a lot and still know how to be silly. Sometimes they cry too, because they’re not all about keeping up that perfect veneer. Sometimes they’re flaky and irresponsible, but they’re still learning so at least they might not be forever flakes. They literally vibrate with possibility.

Contrast that with adults, with whom I might normally converse about the weather, or health problems, or their crappy jobs, or home improvements, or “what do you do for a living,” and really the only question remaining in my mind is, why don’t more people prefer teenagers since they are obviously so much more interesting? I’m the kind of person who is always changing and afraid of stagnation. I’m not saying I always like change, but I’m fascinated by it and ultimately see it as a positive thing. I get excited when other people are changing too. And pretty much all teenagers are changing, whether they like it or not.

Luckily I know many interesting adults too (and no, I’m not just saying that), but I find the teenage years to be of inherent interest and inherent conflict. And inherent conflict and characters in the throes of change theoretically lead to riveting story; it’s a little more complicated than that, obviously, but it’s one of my strongest reasons for liking to write YA.

What about you? Why do you like to read and/or write in your genre(s) of choice?

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Last night I asked my husband what I should write about next for the blog. “If you don’t tell me what to write,” I said, “I’m going to talk about teeth.” He looked horrified and gave me a few topic suggestions. And here I am writing about teeth anyway.

I’ve been trying really hard not to whine about my dental problems too much, which is hard, because I feel this pressing need to whine. Seven months and counting, and right this minute I have a not insignificant toothache from the same tooth that’s been causing the problems all along. I’ve been through two root canals, an onlay, two permanent crowns, and three or four temporary crowns for this one tooth, not to mention gum surgery, several courses of antibiotics and steroids, and countess bite adjustments. It still hurts. And now a new filling on the opposite side of my mouth has decided to act up and hate on anything cold. Eating has become an interesting exercise since I now have two bum teeth on opposite sides of my mouth.

I can question the competence of my dentists all I want, but ultimately they just really really want to save this tooth. They care about saving the tooth more than they care about the pain it is causing me or the subsequent deterioration of my quality of life. My tooth is, after all, irreplaceable; no prosthesis will be as good as the real thing.

It occurs to me as I obsess about my mouth that this is a more universal problem. How do we decide when it’s time to let go of something? I think it’s probably about time for an extraction of my tooth, but without 100% support from the dental establishment, I have hesitated for several months now. I’m kicking myself because maybe all this pain could have ended last December. But how do I decide when it’s time to give up on the tooth?

How do we decide when to give up on anything? What is it that tips us over the edge into deciding a marriage just isn’t going to work? What motivates us to change careers? What is the key information we need to make the call that a business relationship isn’t working out or a person is just never going to treat us respectfully? How do we make the call that “enough is enough” and that something has got to change?

I have a lot of trouble letting go. My stubbornness is an extremely useful trait in many ways, but it can occasionally be inconvenient. What kills me the most is that so often, we’ll never know for sure. We won’t know what would have happened if we’d made a different choice. Maybe if I’d stuck with that relationship for another month or two, that extra time would have made the difference. That’s the insidious whisper that plays inside my head. Maybe if I try one more dental treatment, I’ll get to keep my original tooth. Maybe if I can persevere at a task for a while longer, it will become more rewarding. Maybe maybe maybe.

Or maybe it’s time to make a hard decision and extract that broken molar from its roots, rip the band aid off the skin, take a stand and say, “This is where I draw the line.” There’s giving up and then there’s embracing change; the line between the two is murky but important, because one feels like defeat while the other one can be liberating. A sad and bracing liberation, to be sure, but I’ll take it over straightforward defeat any day.

So tell me: how do YOU make such decisions? When is giving up the right thing to do?

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I read two essays relating to feminism last week, and I can’t get them out of my mind. They offer very different perspectives on living in the U.S. as a woman, and how to navigate the sometimes tricky waters that this entails.The first one was an explanation by Zoe Winters of why she doesn’t call herself a feminist. She offers several reasons, among them that feminism brings with it connotations of angry man haters, that feminists look down on women who have chosen to be housewives instead of career women, and that it’s better to look for win-win situations in the workplace–that if a man is unwilling to hire you because you’re a woman, you’re better off working somewhere else anyway.

The second one was by Justine Musk: “‘Well-behaved women seldom make history’: redefining what it means to be bad.”  She talks about the black-and-white choice for women in our society: to be a good girl or a bad girl. She brings up the different standards of behavior for men and for women, comparing Charlie Sheen with Brittany Spears. She discusses how convenient it is when women choose to be “good,” which is possibly another way of saying something I’ve been talking about a lot lately, choosing to be a people pleaser. (I understand that men can be people pleasers too. However, I suspect the pressures and causes might be a bit different for women than for men in our society. Feel free to argue with me in the comments, though.)

For a long time, I didn’t really self identify as a feminist. You could even say that I was a bit wishy-washy on the whole subject, and you wouldn’t be wrong. I thought I was lucky because sexism had never really affected me or my life.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t actually lucky. I was just naive.

I completely bought into the “good girl” thing that Justine was talking about in her article:

“Raising a girl to be ‘nice’,” a therapist – a woman in her sixties, married and with daughters — once remarked to me, “is like sending her out into the world with one hand tied behind her back.””

That nice girl is me. Was me, is perhaps more accurate. Sexism has affected me my entire life, sometimes in profound ways. Our society’s ideas about gender roles have played a role in shaping who I am, whether I like to admit it or not.

I don’t hate men. Actually, I really like men. Some of my very best friends have been and still are men. There have been times in my life when pretty much all my friends have been male. I have also been friends with guys who are obviously sexist. (Unfortunately, the more overtly sexist, the less likely the friendship will last, because ultimately it’s kind of hard to maintain a friendship with someone who is treating you poorly. Wish I had learned this one a lot sooner.) So I guess I’m the kind of feminist who doesn’t hate men and is only occasionally angry? Oh, and thinks being a housewife is a perfectly fine life choice, thank you very much.

I find the idea that I’d be better off finding a win-win situation in the workplace a bit shallow at best, though. I mean, it sounds great in theory, but what if I work in an industry in which I’m going to face discrimination for being a woman regardless of the company or my boss? I was talking to a female engineer the other day, and she told this story that really appalled me about her male co-workers’ behavior. When I told her that I didn’t know if I’d want to deal with that in my workplace, she responded that her company is actually pretty good to its female engineers. And I believe her; it might very well be worse elsewhere. That doesn’t mean that better is particularly great though. But she has to put up with it if she wants to continue being an engineer, and doing it with good grace is preferable for her career prospects.

As a writer dealing with sexism, it really matters what sub-field I’m in. The kidlit community seems to be made up of about 90% women. I have never experienced any noticeable sexism or inappropriate behavior in the kidlit community. Because I, as previously stated, like men, I’ve hung out with many of the men in the community, and they have always been respectful and treated me like any colleague.

The science fiction/fantasy community, on the other hand, is made up of about 40% women. On the plus side, women writers in the field also win about 40% of the major awards, which is great. Unfortunately, I am sometimes treated differently in the community because of my gender. I have heard about sexual harassment problems at conventions, and I have no trouble whatsoever believing them based on my own experiences. And because I am the “nice girl,” more often than not I let it slide. I push through my discomfort and keep right on smiling. This is the current reality of being a female speculative writer (or at least a relatively young and cute one). So should I stop writing science fiction and fantasy and find a more women-friendly environment in another genre? Or just not be part of the community? You have got to be kidding me. That’s not a win-win. It’s a big fat lose if I feel forced to leave a genre that I love.

Like it or not, sexism is a reality most women are forced to deal with (if you haven’t, I’m happy for you, but I also don’t really believe it). Some of us may not recognize that it’s happening. I often don’t recognize it’s happening. I’ve been watching movies all my life, and it’s only recently that I began to notice how gender is so often portrayed in Hollywood. Now that I’m breaking away from being “too nice” or the “good girl,” I find it valuable to try to notice. Sometimes there might be nothing I can do; sometimes I might have to stand there and smile. Sometimes someone might assume that I’m a man-hating hormonal nightmare of a woman if I use the word “feminist” or a bitch if I don’t temporize, soften my opinions, or stay quiet. But if I notice, at least I can make my own decision about how to respond and have a greater understanding of what’s going on around me and how society is encouraging me to have certain behavior patterns.

For me, feminism is not about fighting against men. It’s about fighting against stereotypes and preconceived boxes that are too small to fit who I am. It’s about being able to be taken seriously in the avocation of my choice, whether that be composer or teacher, science fiction or romance writer, engineer or housewife. It’s about taking a stand against having to fit into the definition of “good girl,” a definition I had no part in creating.

Okay, have at it. Is there anything I missed? Do you consider yourself to be a feminist? Why or why not?

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When I announced the Backbone Project two weeks ago, I expected to get some practice at writing essays that weren’t terribly conciliatory, at responding to people who disagreed with me, and at addressing subjects that I might normally hesitate to talk about. And I was right, to a point; I did in fact get practice in all of the above. But I learned a lot more than I anticipated.

First off, I learned that Ferrett is right (which probably doesn’t come as much of a surprise to many of you). Here I’ve been spending all this energy softening the expression of my viewpoints and trying my hardest to keep everyone happy, and it turns out that’s not so interesting. People respond more when I’m less nice, less perfection-geared, and less careful, as you can see from the amazing comment threads on all three of the Backbone Project essays.

Also, when people disagree with me or even dislike me, I don’t spontaneously combust into flames. Instead, I have a feeling of strength. There’s something bracingly exciting about saying: This is who I am, and this is where I stand. You don’t have to agree with me, but here I am, like it or not.

In a small, private-ish corner of the internet, I even stirred up a tiny hornet’s nest. Yes, indeed, there were all sorts of strangers saying, among other things, how judgmental and smug I am, how if I’ve had problems with not drinking, it must be because of my attitude (otherwise known as victim blaming, but whatever), and that it is completely not a big deal to not drink. At first, I felt terrible. I should have chosen my words more carefully. I was an awful person, both to write such an essay and to not want to drink in the first place. That second assertion snapped me out of it and instead I felt defensive. They hadn’t read my essay! They definitely hadn’t read the comments following it. They didn’t understand. For awhile, I yo-yoed between the two states.

And then I realized it wasn’t a big deal. The conversation wasn’t even about me. Anybody who no longer liked me or no longer wanted to read my blog probably wasn’t my friend or ideal reader in the first place. “Congratulations,” my husband said. “Having people tear you apart on the internet means you’ve leveled up. You have more influence now.” Oh. Who knew?

Meanwhile, I was busy being educated, and the remaining small rough patch of alienation caused by not drinking alcohol was being healed as I found solidarity in a completely unexpected way. As all of you shared the ways in which you are different, told your stories about being child free or hating to be photographed, not wearing shoes and being vegetarian/vegan, not driving and being polyamorous, I began to feel not so much held apart by my differences as brought closer to all of you who have had similar struggles. Indeed, our differences became something we have in common. I learned so much from all three conversations, and I’m looking forward to many more.

Of course, while my goal for the Backbone Project was to write three essays, in reality the project is ongoing, which is great, because it supports what I’m doing in the rest of my life as well. I’m going to keep trying to avoid the wishy-washy and to write strongly and bravely. I know I won’t always succeed, but my guess is that the more I do it, the better I will become.

And remember, you have until tonight to send me links to your own Backbone Project essays. There have been some really awesome posts going up this last week, and I can’t wait to share them with everybody!

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Wow.

I have to say, I thought my backbone project idea was pretty nifty, but I had no idea what an outpouring of support I would receive from all of you wonderful people. I’ve already learned a great deal as well, even though I’m not even halfway done. Thank you all, with some extra special thanks to Ferrett for giving me the idea in the first place.

I’ve already visited some of the blog posts that others have written as part of this project, but Kimberly had the great idea of putting together a list of the links so that they’re easy for everyone to find. I thought about putting the list on the sidebar, but I never look at blog sidebars, so instead I’m going to put together a few posts linking to other Backbone Project participants.

Here’s how to get involved! First, go ahead and write a blog post. It can be a post about the project, it can be a non-wishy washy project post like the ones I’m trying to write, or it can be a response to someone else’s project post (preferably disagreeing in some way). Once you’ve published your Project Backbone post (or posts, feel free to do more than one like I am), email the link(s) to me at practicalfreespirt@gmail.com with “Project Backbone” in the subject line. I’ll be publishing a list with your links on the next two Wednesdays, bright and early (meaning, get those links to me by late afternoon Tuesday to be safe). And if you are a twitter person, you can also use the hashtag #backboneproject to label your blog post announcement.

And what is this about another challenge? Why, yes! Apparently it’s in the air. Theodora Goss is organizing a summer YA Novel Challenge, and I’ve decided to join in the fun. (Perhaps some of you will decide to do it as well!) Here are the rules, which are very flexible and meant to be changed:

1. The challenge will run June 1st to August 31st.
2. The goal of the challenge is to write or revise a YA novel, or part of a YA novel.
3. To meet that goal, set smaller goals for yourself: words per day, pages revised per week, etc.
4. If you would like, blog about your progress. Remember that failure is as important as success.
5. Anyone can join or leave the challenge at any time. It’s always OK to start or stop.

I’m going to be starting my next YA novel for this challenge. I don’t expect to finish by the end of August, as I have some travel planned this summer that will interfere with writing, but I’m hoping to get a good start and then some.

And I’m planning to try to blog about it as well. I’m not sure how that will work, to be honest. I hate word count posts, so I’m definitely not going to do that, and I’m not big on sharing excerpts from works-in-progress either. Maybe I’ll share things about my successes and failures. Maybe I’ll go off on a tangent and wax philosophical about related topics. Or maybe I’ll decide blogging about it is just plain boring (or stressful, or both) and stop. I don’t know, but I’m looking forward to finding out.

Until then, have a wonderful Memorial Day weekend!

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As you can imagine, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the subject of my first Backbone Project post. I’ve decided to take on a writing-related topic (I’ll try to pick a more general interest topic next week for the non-writing inclined), and I chose this one specifically because I expect many writers to disagree with my take on it. So, onwards into the fray! (And yes, my stomach is doing lopsided cartwheels, thanks for asking.)

When I first ventured into my various writing communities, I was regaled by the sanctity of the critique. How to become a better writer? The answer seemed to be to get critiqued. A lot. Really, as much as possible. Any writer who was truly serious about their craft would join a critique group. Or two, or even three or more. Not to mention purchasing critiques from the pros at conferences and for charity, attending workshops that consisted at least partially of critiques, etc. And then post-critique, the writer was expected to exhaustively compile all that criticism and somehow use it to patch together the remaining shreds of story (occasionally there might be more than shreds remaining, a cause for joyous celebration).

I am not being conciliatory when I say that I have learned a lot as a writer from the critiques I have received. It is plain fact. And I am very grateful to everyone who has taken the time to help me learn. But another important fact that I never seem to read about anywhere in the cult of the critique is this: All critiques are NOT created equal. Not by a long shot. And what we as writers are told to do with critiques is not always what works. I have learned this from painful, critiqued-out-of-my-mind experience. In fact, I have gone months without much productivity because of the backlash from a bad critique. I don’t think this makes me a weenie. I think it makes me human; it’s natural to get discouraged from nonconstructive critiques, especially when you are a relative beginner. I mean, do I tell my beginning voice students in detail exactly how they suck at singing, complete with subtle (or not-so-subtle) disparagement, and then have their peers tell them the same thing? Um, no. That would be insane. And yet…

Here is what I have learned about critiques:

FICTION: You can expect a fair, unbiased critique.
REALITY: Some people will always hate what you do (even if you are awesome) because they just don’t dig your style. Some people will get set off by a random, unpredictable aspect of your story and be completely unable to get over it enough to say anything helpful. Some people will read your story in a sloppy manner and give you a half-assed critique. Some people just don’t know how to critique, period.

FICTION: If you’re upset after a critique, you just need to toughen up and take it. After all, you need a thick skin to succeed as a writer.
REALITY: Some critiques are harsh in a constructive way. Some critiques are harsh in a non-constructive way. Some critiques are just plain mean-spirited. Learn to deal with the first of these. The other two? Consider not getting critiqued by these people again or…

FICTION: Take all critiques into thoughtful consideration.
REALITY: Some critiques you can pretty much ignore. That’s not to say you shouldn’t listen while they’re being given, but after a while you can tell which critiques are completely irrelevant to any learning or revising you might be doing.

FICTION: You need critiques to become better as a writer.
REALITY: There are many ways to become better as a writer. The critique is merely one helpful tool among many. After all, there were still great writers before the current fad for critique.

FICTION: You should implement all suggestions given in a good critique.
REALITY: You should listen to the issues a good critiquer is having, and figure out what you, the writer, want to do about it. Often critiquers try to completely retell your story for you (although I wouldn’t personally call this a good critique). In that case, you need to work backwards to figure out what actually wasn’t working for them, and then change it in your own way. And only if you want to.

FICTION: A critique should always be followed by a revision.
REALITY: As long as you’ve learned something from a critique, it doesn’t matter what you do afterwards. Sometimes you need to revise to complete the learning. Sometimes you want to revise. Sometimes you want to chuck the story into the fire and never think of it again. Sometimes you nod, say hmm, and make a few small changes before submitting. Sometimes, if you’re Dean Wesley Smith, you submit the story before the critique so you’re not tempted to revise the life out of your story. (And oh yes, it is so possible to revise your story to death.)

FICTION: If a person is a “pro” or just has a few more credits than you, their word is God in the critique department.
REALITY: I wish. Some pros are amazing teachers and critiquers. Others, not so much. Some people with more credits than you will have amazingly helpful things to tell you about your work. Others will not. Some readers who know nothing about writing will have insights that are equally useful. And some will not. You get the picture.

FICTION: You should be involved in as much critiquing as possible.
REALITY: If you get too involved in critiquing, it might interfere with finding time to do the actual writing. And most of us ultimately want to be WRITERS, not critiquers. Right? Otherwise why would we be putting ourselves through all this?

FICTION: If you can’t handle a critique, you shouldn’t be a writer.
REALITY: If you can’t handle rejection and revision requests from professional editors and agents (who you are doing business with), then you’re going to have some trouble. If you can’t handle the occasional critique (or even the more than occasional critique), maybe something else is going on.

FICTION: Critique trumps all!
REALITY: It’s more important to manage your writing life in whatever way works for you. And if your way is not exactly the same as everyone else’s way, that’s okay. We’re artists, after all. We’re supposed to be different.

Okay, have at it! Disagree with me (or tell me how you’ve been secretly thinking the same thing). I’m going in for more dental torture this morning (if we ever meet in person and you want to see me cry, mention dentistry), but I’ll be commenting with gusto (and pain-induced bravado) later today.

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I’ve been following a conversation on one of the forums I belong to about what works when blogging. You know, the type of discussion in which we talk about what engages the reader and what might increase a blog’s audience, while sharing do and do not tips and all the normal considerations of blogginess.

The estimable Ferrett shared a link on his post on how to get comments. There is much good advice to be had in this essay and the one about blogging that precedes it, but there was one sentence that particularly stood out for me. Ferrett says, “If you’re a conciliatory person by nature, writing a pleasant essay that excuses whatever it is that bugs you with a “But I guess that’s how people are” will not get comments either, because you’ll be so wishy-washy that nobody will be able to disagree with you.”

This sentence popped out at me because I had an instant “ouch” moment of recognition. Yeah. I went through the “Oh no, I probably do that” period to the “Oh God, I hate it when people are wishy-washy” phase to the “I need to stop doing that” realization. It was fun like having a root canal done is fun (and wow, do I now know a whole lot about that). And thus the idea of my newest project was born.

The fact is, I want to be a nice person. And I want you to like me. I don’t even know who you all are, but that doesn’t matter; I just de facto want you to like me. Which I hope you can see can be a bit crazy-making. I enjoy smoothing things over, keeping things calm, following the rules, being reasonable and fair-minded, and not stirring up the pot. Being a people pleaser is, in a way, very reassuring. It allows me to feel that I have some control over life. Never mind that I know intellectually that I have about as much control over my life as I do over the U.S. government (I vote, so there’s my tiny little sliver of control right there).

Unfortunately, there is such a thing as too nice, and sometimes I have trouble finding that line. Plus I definitely do not want to be wishy-washy (the horror!). Hence the project. I am going to write THREE blog posts that are not conciliatory. Well, at least I’m going to try very hard, and you can tell me how I’m doing. I’m planning to publish all three in a row if possible, but in any event I will publish them all in a timely manner. (Really I want to write only one, and then see how it goes, and then maybe write another one if it wasn’t so bad. Talk about wishy-washy! So that’s why I’m committing up front to three.)

I’m depending on you, my readers, to help me make this project a success. Here are some ways you can get involved:

  1. If you are also a people pleaser and a blogger, you can make your own commitment of writing x number of non-conciliatory posts. I will cheer you on, and we can provide moral support for each other!
  2.  You can tell me how I’m doing and call me out if I’m being too nice in spite of myself. I’m so used to doing it, I’m pretty sure I’ll do it sometimes without even realizing it. So I need your eyes.
  3. You can function as a part of my own elite cheerleading squad, telling me how great it is that I’m saying things people could disagree with.
  4. You can disagree with me. In public. Especially if you are a people pleaser too, but really no matter who you are. (Just no trolling. Trolling is not cool and will not advance the cause.)

Right. First post should come out on Thursday. Wish me luck, and feel free to share any last-minute tips (believe me, I’m going to need them).

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My husband found this really fascinating paper entitled “If Money Doesn’t Make You Happy Then You Probably Aren’t Spending It Right.” Since I recently visited the topic of the connection between money and happiness here on this blog, I simply had to devour the entire article. It is, however, quite long, so I am going to choose a few salient points to discuss here.

Photo by Michael Porter

First off, the article says that people with more money aren’t that much happier than people with less, but that they are generally more satisfied. I found this distinction interesting because on first thought, I wouldn’t have thought the two states were really so different. But of course they are. We can have all the stuff we want, we can have the funds to take trips around the world, eat fancy food, and afford other experiences we desire, and be very satisfied that we can do and have all of this. It doesn’t follow, however, that this satisfaction will result in increased happiness, hence the stereotype of the poor little rich girl who has everything money can buy and yet is completely miserable. There are serious problems that have nothing to do with money.

Apparently happiness also depends a lot on our past and future relationship with a given expenditure. Anticipation greatly increases happiness, sometimes more than the actual purchase or experience. I’m going to climb out on a limb here and suggest this has something to do with positive reinforcement, ie I’m excited about my trip to Ashland, I’m thinking about it with excitement, and therefore I’m more likely to approach other aspects of my life in a positive way, which creates a happiness feedback loop. I can definitely experience a stress feedback loop (I’ll be feeling lots of stress and therefore everything seems more overwhelming, even things that would normally be no big deal, creating more stress, etc.), so why not a happiness one as well?

Fond memories of an expenditure will also increase overall happiness, which offers one explanation for why people love to show photos from their past travels and happy occasions. For example, I have wedding pictures and presents scattered throughout my living room that regularly remind me of that event. This is one reason experiences tend to trump material items in the happy-making: we’re more likely to think back to an amazing experience than to an item (to which we have grown more accustomed).

Another point the article brings up is the power of the little things to affect our happiness. The authors suggest making many small purchases instead of a few big purchases. I don’t completely agree with this point because, as we just discussed, often big purchases (trips, weddings, etc.) cause more anticipation and memory, both because we’re excited about them and because it takes longer to save up for a big purchase, increasing the anticipation even further. But scattering smaller purchases throughout our lives (a special coffee drink, a new favorite song or piece of sheet music, a massage, going to a movie) keeps us savoring the texture of life while offering much-needed variety. Of course, appreciating the small things affects happiness whether money is being spent or not, which is part of the beauty of it.

Ultimately what this article leads me to think is something I like to say anyway; namely, that we can contribute to our own happiness through learned strategies, introspection about our priorities, and being present to enjoy both the everyday moments of happiness and the rare, large thunderclaps of happy. Money takes away worries, but it doesn’t automatically bring happiness in their stead. That is something we have to do for ourselves.

What is something little that has made you happy today? For me, I’m wearing a scarf in this fabulous shade of purple that my husband bought for me on our trip to London last year and gave me for Christmas. So I have a warm neck, and every time I look down, I think, “What a great color. What a great husband. What a great trip. Christmas!”

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