Critiquing: how to respect something you don’t
July 10, 2008
Well, now, isn’t that a delightful way to start a post. This assumes we don’t respect our fellow authors or their manuscripts! And yet, you aren’t always going to–in some form, some of the time.
First big thing is liking or being familiar with the genre. I don’t like reading horror. I just don’t. I hate the inevitable gore, the sense that all will not be right in the end, and the kinds of stories that are usually told. And that’s a prejudice I just need to be aware of when reading horror. It isn’t as if I don’t respect the genre, because I know some great horror writers and have even liked some great stories. But to properly respect the genre while critiquing, I need to be aware of my prejudices and learn to keep them out of the way.
To do that, what I need to do is remember to focus on what the author was trying to achieve. I may not agree with it (why horror for this story?), but I respect that what I like is not the full scope of what other readers will want. I may not always understand the tropes, but I can help in mood and plot progression and character development. By knowing my instinctive reaction (which is to read horror as far away from my eyes as possible so I can hide when I get squeamish), then I can deal with it and still respect the critique.
Another thing that crops up is similar: not agreeing with what the author is trying to do. You don’t agree with the theme, maybe, or you are uncomfortable with anyone writing a story involving a taboo subject. Maybe the author is trying a very experimental structure or style or insists upon using a POV that you feel is, in general, a stupid thing to use for stories.
It can be hard to look at the story with the professional distance needed. Hot topic items (politics, religion, taboos, etc) can make one uncomfortable to read when they clash with what you believe. Sometimes you can’t get past it–the subject is too tender to poke, or you are so uncomfortable you can’t get past it (detailed sex scenes, explicit violence, etc).
The thing to realize is that this is also okay as long as you are upfront to yourself and the author about the situation. You can opt-out gracefully without needed to explain why beyond a simple “I’m sorry, but I can’t read about this topic/theme/situation objectively.” This puts the author at a greater ease–they can hardly argue with how you feel, can they? (This is also a way for their feelings to be protected. You aren’t judging the fact they wrote the subject or theme or scene, just your ability to read it fairly and critique it.)
To emphasize the point, don’t ever say something like “this sort of story should never be written.” Even if you believe it. That’s the sort of thing that crosses the line to critiquing the author, which should never, ever be done.
And what about that pesky author, anyhow? What if you really don’t like the person? Or you’ve had a fight with them? Or they just savaged your writing and your dignity and your ability to hold a pen, much less try to write with it? Or maybe they just annoy you or get on your nerves or you think they really suck at writing/critiquing/whatever?
Divorcing the personal from the professional is an essential part of critiquing. I usually try to read a submission twice, once as reader (personal), once as writer (professional). I can’t–no one can–completely separate the two. But the harder I try, the better the critique.
Again, you can always opt out if you can’t be professional about your feelings towards someone. (Don’t, however, tell them you think they are a jerk or they suck or the like when opting out). But try anyway. Some of the best writers are jerks. Sometimes you can’t get past the socially awkward stage with someone. The work must and should stand alone from the person behind the keyboard.
Focus on the words on the page. Focus on the goals of the story: genre considerations, marketability, presentation of theme/char/plot/setting, progression of the story. Does the beginning set up the end, and does the end follow up on those promises? Are the sentences and paragraphs and the scenes chosen to serve the story best? What about tension on the page–is there conflict (interal/external/both)? Does it serve as story along with message? Can you understand the story even if you aren’t familiar with the tropes of its genre?
Above all, remember that you aren’t critiquing this as personal friends. You are doing it as a professional. Even if you can’t respect a manuscript or its author, you have to fake that you do.
Who knows, you might learn somethng by doingi so.
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