My critique took place on Tuesday, but I’m just now starting to become lucid enough to write about it. That doesn’t mean I’ve come to any conclusions or even begun to digest a lot of what was said - that’s a very laborious road ahead - but my mind has at least chilled out enough to be able to employ the “use your words” widsom of grade school.
Of course, there was lots of discussion about the language, as expected. Overwhelmingly, the sentiment was positive - there were even some adjectives used to describe the prose that I want to keep in a secret box under my bed forever, in fear that if I ever repeat them, they’d no longer be true. They’re words that I’ve been hoping to hear for a very long time, and words that, truthfully, I need to keep me going.
What absolutely blew my mind is that almost unanimously, the workshoppers told me my book started on page eleven. Perhaps that wouldn’t be so mindblowing if the first chapter were just sort of something that’s been hanging out since I started this two plus years ago, and hasn’t been updated since (such is the case for some of what’s in the manuscript). But I actually intentionally swapped in the first ten pages (in a dramatic and revelatory manner) and pushed the former first chapter out to page eleven. Based on all of the feedback I’d gotten, it completely colored the story in a different, more effective way, and I’d never been so confident in a change I’d made. I’ve labored over the language of the first ten pages more than anything I’ve ever written, and have been told more times than I can count that it’s the strongest thing I’ve ever written. I believed it was the strongest thing I’d written. And then I walked into to workshop with a group of people who’d never read a word of my writing, and they all independently identified the previous start of the book, and ostensibly undid my sure-fire decision. They told me that the first chapter was like a different book and narrator - paced completely incorrectly, with language that was significantly weaker than anything they’d read and loved in pages 11 through 28.
I told myself that I’d be a good gag-ruler and keep my facial expressions to a minimum. But there was one point where I simply put my forehead onto the table trying to stifle my uncomfortable, nervous laughter. There should be another word for it besides “laughter.”
Being told things are overwritten, that stock characters are unbelievable, that A B or C doesn’t work - that’s something I can deal with, have been expecting, and to which I have sort of oddly been looking forward so I can make my manuscript as strong as possible. But this shakes my foundation in a way I was not ready to address: it makes me feel like all of my fears that I have actually no perspective on my own work are coming true.
As screwed up as it is making me feel every time I think about the decisions I am going to have to make, this new train of thought is an absolute blessing. This is exactly what I wanted - to open up my world about this manuscript. I am so, so lucky to be in a position to ask these questions. I am so, so happy to have smart, versed readers who have asked me to open my eyes and ask these questions. I so, so proud of myself that I’m not running away from them, and not expecting to be pampered by praise. And I can’t remember the last time I wanted to lock myself in a cafe for hours and work.
M
