The most fundamental opinion of writers might be that we are our own worst enemies. We pick ourselves apart while we’re working, we fuss over other people’s opinions and, because we frequently work alone, we tend to be a tad off on the whole socializing thing. We produce pages of imagination or interpretation onto a screen or (for nostalgic novelists) paper. We may look at it later and think it’s terrible, and it gets rewritten or shredded. We may think it’s okay, but there is always room for improvement. Perfection is elusive. Between the screen and my eyes, my writing looks forever like a revision project.
The difference between a writer and an actor is the stage: an actor steps into the danger zone and thrives on applause or falls to the boos, while the writer may not know who is applauding or booing until the book sale figures come out (if you get a book deal to start with).
My writing life has an extra obstacle in the way, since I’m an adult college student still struggling to get that degree. I’ve spent the past semester writing opinion papers (and two short stories) for a required literature class, while my best ideas for my novel in progress got pushed aside like a needy child. I was determined to get a decent grade, especially since the instructor also happens to be my advisor.
At writer’s group about two months ago, I did manage to do a reading of part of a chapter rewrite I had worked on. The piece got roundly pooh-poohed. They wanted the minor characters in a short scuffle that started the chapter to have names so the readers could keep track of them. I had tried to identify them as “instigator” and “challenger” because they were tertiary characters who wouldn’t be seen again. The group didn’t like that.
That started a whole round of self critiquing and doubts about my own ability to communicate a whole adventure to a (supposedly) anxious flock of potential readers. I hoped my faux pas was just an exception, and that the rest of my work is not pooh-worthy.
When it comes to getting feedback on writing, friends and family will either stroke your ego or be so brutally honest with their opinions, it can be dangerous to rely on them exclusively. Writing groups can help as long as they are not on such a friendly level with you that they risk hurting your feelings if they don’t like something you’ve written. The trail of tears–the rejection circuit once a writer begins submitting their work for consideration–is the true test of one’s own sense of self-worth. To get there, though, I have to finish the novel.
Once classes ended, I figured out what to do with my two dueling characters: I reassigned their identities to a character who appeared earlier, and an interloper with a decidedly short lifespan, to whom I bestowed a name. Sure the dude will get killed within two pages, but it did boost my feelings of inadequacy to know that I could afford to “birth” and kill a character that way. I won’t read it to the group again, but just continue on the path to completion. I’m almost there. At least it looks like it from here.
Susan's Scribblings the Blog 