Feedback That's Gracious yet Demanding

In the March/April issue of The Writer's Chronicle, teacher Catherine Wallace wrote an interesting article on how to solicit feedback from editors, teachers, classmates, friends, family, whomever. I found it helpful. She discussed the dangers of fault-finding criticism while outlining what kind of feedback she believes is most helpful, arguing that caring for a manuscript is not unlike raising children: you must praise them for behaving. Otherwise, fault-finding reverses creative momentum, driving the writer back to what's already written instead of onward toward the development of the essential vision and into more useful imaginative energy.

She urges the writer to be "clear and explicit with your readers about what you want from them." Ask them to underline or circle whatever words, phrases, passages strike them as "memorable, evocative, effective or just plain fun." Invite them to explain in the margin what they liked.

She also says ask readers to insert question marks in the margins at "any place where they get lost, or bored, or confused" along with a brief explanation on why. She walks a fine line here between traditional fault-finding and her new approach which includes interviewing the writer about the "blurry" areas. If a writer can speak about what they're aiming for in a passage or paragraph, she says, the writer can get to an "a-ha" moment that will clarify what they need to do. In long-distance editing this isn't always realistic and without a trained professional sometimes impossible. But her vision on "muddled passages" being akin to "growing edges" where a reader's need to "fix" them will ultimately stymie the "new growth that might have happened" is a gentle, nurturing approach to strengthening weak areas of a manuscript. She sees troubles not as problems but as a doorway. Then again, she does mention Harry Potter.

Regardless, it's a compassionate outlook on creating art that one might argue will sidestep the hard work of making a piece great rather than just good. But Wallace insists that these succinct requests work because they will glean specific feedback instead of generalizations. She also says it works because when readers point to the passages or words that "shimmer" on the page, there's an energy connection there, a small success that the writer can use as a model to recreate elsewhere in the manuscript.

I liked Wallace's approach if only because it gave me a guiding template to use when I share my work with others -- more than just "tell me what you think" (though I've yet to test it). It also gives me a bit more of a compassionate plan toward myself than I would otherwise as well. Getting feedback on a manuscript is a fragile business. You might be asking for a whole lot of hurt -- a lot of which you might not even agree with. And the one thing I've learned from working as an editor is that a good editor will help an author shape the story he or she is trying to get at rather than rewrite the story as if the editor had written it him or herself. I think Wallace helps a writer get that kind of feedback. She says, "I offer you another set (of tools)… they are both demanding and gracious, which is to say they will help you grow both as a reader and as a writer. And maybe as a person too…"

She's probably right.

A Video Archive of Fiction Authors

Television is a powerful medium and yet one rarely sees fiction authors on it, not non-fiction authors, but fiction authors. This explains why Philip Roth isn't as popular as Paris Hilton (not to mention he may not be as cute -- arguably). Still, despite not receiving the widespread promotion that TV offers, fiction is discovered anyway. People find good books, read them, tell friends about them and make the sales and popularity of certain books soar. I sometimes wonder how high fiction sales would soar if it had just a little slice of television promotion on its side.

Of course, as long as the recreational activity of reading must compete with watching movies or playing Rock Band, it will fair poorly in America. But before I descend into griping about the intelligence of the average American or fiction not getting its media coverage due, I want to point out a resource that actually promotes a lot of fiction: The Charlie Rose Show.

This is an hour-long PBS show where journalist Charlie Rose converses with not only authors but scientists, musicians, athletes, political leaders and anyone else who's doing something important and worth examining in the world. The guests are varied, the topics timely. Rose is always well prepared.

But the handiest thing for any viewer, including aspiring fiction writers, is the show's website. It features this amazing, crazy-comprehensive video archive of what seems to be every interview dating back to the mid 1990s. A user can watch a conversation with Dave Brubeck from 1994 or Arthur Ashe from 1996 or David Ho from 1997 or Al Gore from 2000 and on and on. It sort of blows my mind how many fascinating segments are available, all free, all of which are categorized by topic and searchable by name or date.

I'm embarrassed to admit I've spent more than one evening hopping from author interview to author interview, which are usually anywhere from ten minutes long to thirty or forty. I like that Rose not only promotes fiction by putting writers on television, but explores the works in depth, discussing characters, setting, the writer's background, inspiration, work habits, etc. Clearly, he respects the art of fiction.

Anyway on Wednesday, April 16th, Rose will interview novelist and screenwriter Richard Price about his new book, Lush Life, the third of Rose's interviews with Price. I'm sure the segment will be on the website's archive afterward for those who miss it.

Accept Failure as Your Destiny

In an interview in Novel Voices, author Richard Bausch talks about the need for emerging writers to accept failure as a destiny. While rejection stings and we often feel as if we are the lone person whose work is being rejected, it's a much more universal and integral experience than that, so much so that Bausch believes it's imperative writers make it a part of their life's outlook.

In the interview, he says, "If you're not scared, there's something wrong with you. Your talent will be tested, and you have to be willing to accept failure as a part of this. You say, 'I accept failure as my destiny' the same way you say, 'I accept death as my destiny.'"

I thought these words were profound and accurate. Failure is the writer's destiny. It's inevitable. It's what's meant to happen. Get used to it. Failure becomes a fundamental piece of the journey, just as death is a fundamental piece of life. We try and we will fail. That means we must try again -- and again. Perhaps writing requires the constant assumption of failure so that when we succeed we'll be pleasantly surprised. In some ways, the idea is very Buddhist. Our first principle, our first rule, is that the writer's life equals suffering. By keeping that in mind, we can cultivate gratitude and therefore, happiness with each small success. This makes sense I suppose since a writer's solitary, humble and silent life is similar to a monk's anyway.