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As an aspiring author and mother of two young children, the time spent pursuing my career comes mostly at night, when the kids are asleep. I don’t have a lot of time, so I need to prioritize. Should I revise tonight? Or read? Blog? Research? Submit? I have to decide quickly; I only have thirty-three minutes until midnight. That’s when the baby wakes up. She loves ushering the new day in with a solid wail.
I suppose my choice tonight is to blog. I won’t have time for anything else.
I wonder if blogging is doing me any good. The majority of hits on my blog derive from “tattoo” searches, so who really reads this thing? (Which reminds me to tell you: if you want to pump up your site statistics, definitely slip in a word or two about body ink. Personally, I’ve got an inexplicable thing for Ami James, but I digress.)
Then I tell myself, it doesn’t matter if anyone reads this blog. It’s good writing practice. Even if the writing stinks (and it usually does), at least I’m meeting my daily word count quota.
But for the next few weeks, I’ll have my writing time spoken for. I’ll be busy preparing for the Rutgers University Council on Children’s Literature One-on-One Mentoring Conference (phew, that’s a mouthful, huh?). I have writing samples to polish and questions to prepare for my mentor, whomever that may be. I have my eye on a particular editor, but I doubt I’ll be lucky enough to get paired with that person.
And I feel panic bubbling up inside of me. I don’t know enough about the authors working in my genre, I don’t know enough about the mentors, I don’t know enough about the marketplace. I don’t know enough about comma splices. I need to know more so I can mix and mingle without sounding like a total noob.
But hey–maybe I should mingle with you.
Are you going to the RUCCL One-on-One Mentoring event in October? If so, drop me a note and let’s chat. I’ve got exactly twelve minutes left before the baby alarm goes off.
You’ve got a great idea for a picture book.
You sit down and write it out.
You give it to your children to read. They love it.
You give it to your mother. She corrects a grammar mistake but otherwise dubs it “perfect.”
You give it to your neighbor. She thinks it’s wonderful and offers to illustrate it for you.
You buy a copy of The Children’s Writer’s and Illustrator’s Market.
You print out a copy of your story, attach your neighbor’s illustrations to each page and mail it out to every publisher in CWIM.
Congratulations!
You’ve just made every beginner mistake in the book.
Just because picture books are short—and for kids—doesn’t mean writing one is easy. Like any profession, children’s writing requires time educating yourself on the craft, refining your skills, and researching the market.
Stay tuned for tips on what to do with that idea. In the meantime, keep writing!
I bumped into an on-again, off-again writer friend today, which was a surprise, since she seemed to be hovering somewhere above the clouds.
“My novel is going really well,” she said. “I’m going to finish it up soon and send it out!”
Yes, she was planning to submit her first draft.
First, I applauded her enthusiasm. “That’s great!” Then I cautioned her. “But you should really have it critiqued first.”
“No, do you really think so? I don’t think it needs it.”
I explained that most writers don’t have enough distance from their work to see problems in their own manuscripts. The fabulous ideas in our heads are not always executed clearly on paper. Because the story is unclouded in our minds, we don’t realize when the paper takes giant leaps (or even small side-steps), losing the reader.
She belonged to my critique organization but quit last year due to her off-again writing status. I encouraged her to return if she was serious about this novel.
“Maybe I’ll just pay someone to critique it.”
A professional critique can indeed be helpful, but a good one can be pricey, so your manuscript should be in a near-submission-ready state. Because you don’t want to have to pay for two (or more) expensive reviews.
“The thing is, I don’t want a lot of people to read it. It’s very personal.”
“But you want to have it published?” I joked and she offered a pseudonym.
“Well, it’s a really great story,” she said. “I’m certain it will get published.”
“I’m sure it is. Everyone thinks their own work is wonderful. Or else we wouldn’t be writing.”
When I suggested some writing books I thought might be helpful, she asked me what a few of the terms meant. That’s when her feet returned to solid ground.
I had to explain that I didn’t want to squash her excitement, I just wanted to prevent her hopes from being squashed. If she sends out a manuscript too soon, before it’s truly ready, she’ll use up her chances with publishers and agents. If they reject something once, they are not going to want to see it again (unless a revision is expressly requested).
It’s terrific to be enthusiastic about your work. Love creating. Love writing. But be realistic, too. The clouds are a fine place hang out once you’ve signed that publishing contract. But keep your feet on the ground until then, pen to paper, writing and revising. And revising some more.
When a character stops talking to me, I have no choice but to ask another to come forward. Like a radio station that goes static across state lines, I must dial the tuner until I find another song worth listening to. And it’s gotta be catchy.
I could force myself to work on a project I’m not feeling, or jump on the current groove. I choose to go where inspiration takes me.
I understand that successful, published authors must learn to multitask. There may be times in the future when several projects will be coming to deadline and I’ll have to channel a myriad of characters. However, being still unpublished, I can follow my fickle desires.
So one middle grade novel that received interest from professionals gets shelved…and a new one begins.
In the meantime, my picture books have been submitted. All three are out looking for homes. Write home soon, won’t you, boys?
For my submissions, I researched publishers to target those with books similar to mine (but not in direct competition) already on their list. Amazon’s “advanced search” function is helpful here, enabling you to search by publisher and age range. If you find a book similar to yours, you may be able to read it on Lookybook immediately instead of running to the library.
If I haven’t blogged recently, you can’t blame a girl who has been writing and submitting her work. Now I must dive into research mode for my current middle grade novel, which includes historic elements that I last studied in grammar school. I need to start getting smarter than a 5th grader!
I have recently learned ’tis a wonderful thing to have an agent request your manuscript, yet the moment becomes bittersweet when you don’t have a completed work to send.
I know a very important rule for writers: don’t attend a pitch session if your manuscript isn’t finished. It’s a waste of time for editors and agents who are attending to find and sign new talent. And it’s just as moot a move for you. No one will take a chance on an unproven fiction writer, no matter how compelling your first page, first chapter or first half of the book is.
The good news is that I did not attend a pitch session. I attended a critique fully expecting to be critiqued. What I got were the words every writer dreams of: “You have to send me your manuscript.” Alas, I cannot send an incomplete work. It’s excellent incentive to keep moving forward with my novel, but disheartening to know that I have every opportunity to louse up a perfectly good half-finished story.
Employers spend an average of just 30 seconds scanning each job resumé. If you don’t make an immediate positive impression, you won’t get called in for an interview.
The same half-minute scan holds true for your fiction. One page is all you have to hook an agent or editor and entice them to keep reading. Without a strong voice, a compelling hook and sharp writing, you’re doomed for a swim with the slushies.
It therefore makes sense to attend a first page critique. The neighborhood kids may giggle over your tale, your friends might deem it wonderful, and your critique partners may even bless it as ready for submission. But a professional opinion is your best literary litmus test.
A professional first page critique can answer these questions:
- Is your writing appropriate for the genre? Does the voice match the target age range? Is your picture book too wordy; is your young adult novel too simple?
- Do you have a truly unique premise? Certain subjects—like fairies and witches—may be popular at the moment, but that also means the market could be saturated. If you’re writing about fairies or witches, your idea should really stand out from the books already on the shelves.
- Have you left enough questions for the reader to want to continue? Or do you leave the reader too confused instead?
- If you’re writing in rhyme, does it have a consistent scheme? Does it move the story along or bog it down?
- Does your dialogue sound authentic?
- Are you telling the tale in the most appropriate point of view?
- Can a child relate to the story?
- Does the reader get an immediate sense of who/what/when/where? Can the reader imagine herself in the book’s setting?
- Are you beginning the tale at the right place?
Wow! All this just from a first page? Absolutely!
Professional editors and agents know the latest trends in the literary marketplace and they see hundreds—if not thousands—of first pages every month. The highly competitive book publishing business dictates that they weed out undesirable stories as quickly as possible in order to get to the good ones.
Thirty seconds is all you have. Make them work for you.
A new critique group member recently presented us with Chapter I of her YA novel—an engaging high school sports saga with a female athlete protagonist. After hearing our comments, she confessed that it wasn’t the first time she’d shared this piece. Workshop members from a local college had very different reactions than the ones we provided. For instance, they did not appreciate her clever metaphors, whereas I felt the work was strongest at those points—humorous, insightful, spoken with a strong and unique character voice.
At home that evening with a cup of tea and time to reflect, I wondered: is there such a thing as too many critiques? After all, not everyone agrees on the merits of published books, so a first draft would certainly elicit a wide range of comments. If a writer is presented with a dozen different viewpoints on the same story, which suggestions should she accept and which should she let slide?
Firstly, writers need to examine how many people point out the same problems. If there is more than one critique member who questions the character’s motive in a particular scene, then it makes sense to consider that section more carefully. But points on which the critique group does not agree, it’s appropriate for the writer to trust her own instincts, either by revising or letting the words remain.
Next, getting to know your critique partners well helps to reveal the most reliable criticisms. There are people whose judgment you will tend to trust, and those who just don’t agree with your direction. There will be those who always insist on line-editing until your prose reads exactly like their own. A group member may have a wildly differing style or not call your genre a specialty. It is important to listen to all criticisms and to understand why they are being voiced, but to address every single one is not productive. Too many cooks may indeed spoil the broth.
There’s no doubt that every manuscript needs to be critiqued. If you’ve completed a first draft and you’re licking the envelope to that agent: stop. You’ve only just begun. Find a critique group and get ready to rewrite.
There are no rules regarding how many times something can be workshopped, but as you become more familiar with the revision process, you’ll soon learn which advice to listen to and which you can ignore. A novel will not be all things to all readers, but it needs to be true to your vision as a writer.
What do you think? Can work be over-critiqued?






















