This will be the last post in The Criticism Series unless anyone has follow-up questions.  Grace wrote that she and her writing buddy are starting a critique group, and then she asked, I’ve never really critiqued anyone’s writing before, I’ve only had people critique mine. Since I’m going to critique group next week, does anyone have any idea how to provide good, honest critique?
Many of you reading this probably have critique group experience, and I hope you’ll share your thoughts.

Every group is different.  Some meet only online.  Some are small, three or four writers.  Some are big, with a floating membership; different people show up from meeting to meeting.  Groups meet weekly, biweekly, monthly, or as needed.

Some are highly structured.  Maybe only three writers present work at each meeting and presenting rotates.  The time spent on each piece is limited and monitored.  There may be a group leader.  There may be a page limit of, say, ten pages.

Others are more free-wheeling: discussion can last as long as it lasts; as many people can present as have work; no length limit.

Or anything in between.

Some groups email work to one another before getting together.  I prefer this.  My first reaction to something isn’t always trustworthy.  I like to sit with a piece for a while.

In some groups, the piece is read aloud, usually not by its author, because problems tend to jump out when you hear your work, and, if a reader stumbles, there may be a wording problem at that spot.

Whether you receive material ahead of time or not, it’s important to have a copy for everyone at the meeting to follow along with the reader.  Otherwise the words go by too fast, and people miss thingsh or may mishear.

Writers have different expectations from critique groups.  I tend to line edit everything I read, and I welcome line edits from others, but some critique members don’t want that; they want to hear about only the major plot and character issues (which I address as well when I see them).  One time, I joined a critique group and plowed in with all my tiny edits only to have the other members look at me in shock and dismay.  Best to discuss this in advance.

(What is a line edit?  It’s the little things like word repetition, sentence sameness, uncertainty about who’s speaking, and so on.)

Before you join a group, it’s worth considering what you’d like to get out of it.  Do you want line edits or just big-picture criticism?  Are you okay with sharing parts of your manuscript, or do you want a group that is willing to look at the entire thing?  Would you be willing to put in the time to go over someone else’s three hundred pages?  Do you even have that kind of time?

If there isn’t much to choose from in your area, you may have to take what you can get, but it still makes sense to think about.  Once you’re in a group you may be able to move it in the direction you prefer.

Okay.  Let’s assume you’re in Grace’s enviable situation.  You’ve just formed a critique group.  How do you “provide good, honest critique?”

If you receive the work ahead of time, read it over twice with some time between readings if possible.  I suggest you mark it up in pencil (not red), so you can change your mind.  When I go over something, I usually write my line edits on the manuscript.  If I think something should be deleted, I put parentheses around it.  I never strike through someone’s words, because that feels like an assault to me.  And all my comments are just suggestions.

For broad issues, I keep a separate list, generally a short list.  Big comments might be that a certain character isn’t likable (and then I show the places that led me to this conclusion) or that I don’t believe a particular character would behave as portrayed.

I just went back to my post from last November 18th on revision, and I suggest you revisit it too, because much of what applies to revising your own writing, applies to editing the writing of others.  In your critiques you can go into all the elements that I listed then, including plot, character, setting, voice, detail.

Possibly the most important and useful thing to watch for in a manuscript is your own confusion.  Did you fail to understand something?  If you did, it is likely not your fault.  Something is probably missing, or something has misled you in a way that the author didn’t intend.  Pointing out the place of your confusion is likely to be helpful to your critique buddy.

Your very valuable quality, maybe the most valuable, is that you are a good reader.  You’ve read lots of books; you know what you like and what irritates you, and you bring that background to your critiquing.

Of course you should say what you like before launching into the problems.  Every editorial letter I’ve ever gotten has begun with the good stuff.  There have been a few times, however, when I haven’t liked anything, and then I don’t say that, but I jump right into the criticism.  That is what we’re there for.  In those instances, however, I may not point out every little thing that bothered me.  The small stuff can wait until the major problems have been fixed.

Don’t be the critique member who says nothing.  Push yourself.  You can be silent for a few meetings, but after that, try to speak up.  If you don’t, other members may conclude you’re there only to receive feedback and not to give any, even though the truth may be simple shyness or lack of confidence.

I was in a certain critique group for years.  We all knew each other.  Most of us had become friends.  We’d shared many pieces of writing.  And yet, whenever it was my turn to receive criticism, I was scared.  Every single time!  For years!  Sometimes I went first, but I never wanted to.  I always wanted to ease into it.  Then, all I really wanted to hear was that every word I’d written was a marvel.  But once we got into my story and people started giving their helpful comments, after a few minutes, I calmed down and my blood pressure returned to normal and I appreciated what was coming my way.

Some of you have written that you don’t like to show your work until it’s as good as you can make it.  That’s fine if – if you don’t get locked in an endless cycle of revision that keeps you from going on to new writing and if you are ever satisfied enough to expose your work to helpful eyes.

The wonderful thing about criticism, the part that makes even the rare hurt worthwhile, is that you get a fresh perspective.  Your critiquers will see your words in ways that will surprise you.  They’ll find themes and ideas and, naturally, problems that you were blind to.  But you’ll never be completely blind again.  You may repeat your mistakes, but you’ll be broadened, and you’ll begin not to repeat.  The smallest thing, even a suggested word choice that is outside your range will expand you.

Some of what makes us writers is our curiosity about people.  When you’re part of a critique group and you read other writers’ halting efforts, you change perspective.  It’s a different kind of intimacy from a friendship, although friendships can develop, but there will also be this, an understanding that only writers have, or maybe that only artists have.

Hooray for critique groups!

Here’s a prompt:  Three critique buddies are meeting.  Write their session, and in the course of it, give glimpses of the manuscripts, which both reveal and disguise aspects of their authors’ lives.  Follow the members after the critique session as they reenter their situations.

Have fun and save what you write!