Giving Back

How Helping Someone Else to Write a Better Book Turns into a Win-Win-Win

Keith Cronin

Writing can be a very solitary pursuit. It’s not a team sport (unless you’re collaborating), and all the responsibility—and the associated insecurity—falls solely on your shoulders. When working on a single project for months or years at a time, it’s easy for a writer to feel isolated. But through the wonder of the Internet, writers can now meet, interact, and form entire communities—all without ever leaving the house.

At its best, this ability to connect with other literary kindred spirits can be truly life-changing. At the very least, it’s incredibly empowering for writers of all skill levels to have the ability to communicate with—and learn from—other writers across the globe. But as Spider-Man taught us, with great power comes great responsibility. (Okay, depending on your background, you might have been taught this by Winston Churchill or perhaps the apostle Luke. Me, I get my philosophical insights from comic books. Don’t judge.)

My point is this: Writers have access to this incredibly powerful resource, and I believe we each have the responsibility to not only take advantage of the Internet’s endless flow of information but to contribute to that flow. Possibly the worst aspect of the Internet is that it has generated a culture of “takers” who have grown to expect—and feel entitled to—an infinite stream of content, typically provided at no cost. So I’m on a mission to combat that sense of entitlement and to promote the Internet as a platform that enables us not only to take but also to participate and contribute. In other words, to give something back.

Obviously, the Internet is not the only vehicle via which writers can connect. Many writers meet regularly in critique groups or in larger, more formal organizations that focus on a particular literary genre. But not everybody lives near a local chapter of the Mystery Writers of America, nor can everybody afford to fly across the country to one of the giant annual conferences held by the Romance Writers of America. However, nearly all writers have access to the Internet, which in turn gives them access to each other.

The reason I’m harping on the Internet is that it has allowed me to form connections—and in some cases, deep friendships—with writers whom I never would have met face-to-face. But by interacting and communicating with them online, I’ve had some amazing “you show me yours and I’ll show you mine” moments. (Hey, I’m talking about manuscripts. Get your mind out of the gutter.)

HELP SOMEBODY WRITE A BETTER BOOK

One of the biggest challenges writers face is maintaining some objectivity about their work. Most writers—myself included—feel it’s essential to have other people read and comment on their work at the near-final stage, to help them decide whether a manuscript is ready for prime time. Over the years I’ve gained invaluable insights from beta readers whose comments identified plot holes and weak spots as well as components of the story they liked and wanted to see amped up. In short, they helped me write a better book.

In turn, I try to help other people write better books. Not just because it’s a nice thing to do. Not just for good karma (more on that later). But because analyzing and critiquing the work of others helps me do a better job of writing and editing my own work.

Oddly, as much as we may love to get feedback on our work, a surprising majority of writers I’ve encountered are reluctant to give feedback in return. I’ve heard a variety of excuses, usually along the following lines:

You could sum up all of these reasons in the immortal words of Wayne and Garth from Wayne’s World: “We’re not worthy!”

I have two responses to these excuses. One is admittedly a dose of “tough love,” while the other is perhaps more encouraging. So let’s get the tough love over with first.

1. Sorry, but that’s bullshit. If you’re at a point where you’re serious enough about your writing that you’re trying to get it published, you’re also ready to start developing and exercising some editorial skills. The reality is that writing and editing go hand in hand. You won’t magically become “good enough” to critique other people’s work—or to write publishable prose, for that matter—without first developing those skills. Bottom line, if you’re ready for the decision-making involved in trying to write something publishable, you’re ready to form an opinion about whether a piece of writing works. Okay, now that I’ve gotten that out of my system, let’s move on to warmer, fuzzier waters. (Wait—how can water be fuzzy? Ewww. Anyway, moving on …)
2. Yes, you are worthy. Even if you’re a newbie. Even if it’s been years—or decades—since you last cracked a grammar textbook. Even if you don’t know a dangling participle from a flux capacitor. You are worthy because you already have the one tool every writer needs: your gut.

GET IN TOUCH WITH YOUR GUT

Critiquing calls on you to do two things: react and analyze. When you read something with the goal of providing a critique, you need to pay attention to your own reactions. That’s where your gut comes in. Don’t overthink this part. You don’t need to go into grammar-Nazi mode or diagram any sentences. Just keep asking yourself at a gut level: Do you like it, or does it not quite work for you? Were you cruising along nicely until you hit that word or that plot twist? Keep your radar up as you read, and pay attention to any speed bumps you hit.

Bear in mind that this is something everybody is qualified to do, regardless of her level of experience or education. We’re just looking at whether or not you liked something. Liking is an innate human behavior. I mean, you know whether you like chocolate. You know whether you like back rubs. Guess what? You also know whether you like what you’re reading.

After you read and react, it’s time to analyze. Why didn’t that scene work? Why did that word jar you, or why did that grammatical construct pull you out of the story? The extra step of figuring out why you didn’t like something forces you to develop your critical thinking, leading to some aha moments that you can apply when critiquing other writing, including your own.

But give yourself a break. A sentence may sound wrong to you, but you might not know the precise grammatical reason. So how would you rewrite that sentence to sound better? Again, trying to improve a piece of writing is something anybody can do. And who knows? Maybe this will prompt you to do a little research and discover the grammatical rule that you had intuitively sensed was being violated. In my experience, the lessons you learn this way—when you’re actually trying to solve a problem rather than simply memorizing some arbitrary rule—are far more likely to ingrain themselves in your brain, and they will inform your own writing from that point on.

RINSE AND REPEAT … AND IMPROVE

Learning to critique is a cumulative skill. Through repetition, you’ll actually feel yourself getting better at it. Repetition is key for two reasons. First is the whole “practice makes perfect” aspect. But the even more powerful skill that repetition provides is the ability to see patterns—both bad and good—in other people’s writing.

Although we’re all unique, the reality is that most writers make a lot of the same mistakes, particularly during the early phases of their development. It could be related to simple mechanics, like mixing up less and fewer, or incorrectly punctuating dialogue. It could be a stylistic weakness, like not varying the length and structure of the sentences in a paragraph. Or maybe it’s the tendency to spew a page or two of literary throat clearing before getting to where the story should actually start.

Whenever you figure out what was bugging you about a piece of writing, that cognitive process will create a new arrow in your quiver of literary critique projectiles (how’s that for a strained metaphor?). Seriously, it’s amazing how the process of thinking critically and identifying a specific problem will sensitize you to other instances of that same problem. The more you critique, the easier it becomes to spot these flaws, because they begin to appear as readily identifiable patterns.

And here’s the coolest part: With this increased sensitivity, it will be easier to find and eliminate these flaws in your own writing. This is important because let’s face it: We generally have to function as our own editors most of the time. And with the growing emphasis on self-publishing, the ability to edit—whether it’s somebody else’s work or your own—has become an absolutely crucial skill.

GET READY TO MAKE YOUR MARK

One of the great things about this rapidly evolving technological era is that you can read and mark up a manuscript in whatever way best suits your lifestyle and/or work flow. I used to print everything out and mark up the physical manuscript with a pen. Later I shifted to reading manuscripts on my computer, marking them up using the Track Changes feature in Microsoft Word. These days, I e-mail Word documents to my Kindle—a simple trick surprisingly few writers are aware of—and mark it up using Kindle’s commenting function. This frees me from needing to be near my computer or lugging around a thick stack of paper. It also gives me the most realistic simulation of reading a published novel, which makes the experience feel more natural and organic—and less like grading somebody’s homework. Whatever method you choose, just make sure you have the ability to visually tag the specific parts of the manuscript you want to comment on.

Okay, now that you’re set up and ready to start critiquing, let’s do this thing.

I’ve talked about dividing the act of critiquing into reacting and analyzing. When I’m in reacting mode, I try to keep my momentum going so that I don’t get bogged down in analyzing things too much. I record any reactions or comments as quickly as I can.

In fact, you don’t need to write anything; you can just underline a word, make an X next to a paragraph that rubbed you the wrong way, or write a question mark next to a passage you didn’t understand. Later you can study the places you marked to identify what made you stumble. My memory is not great, so I’ll leave myself notes like “Why would he do that?” or “This is implausible.” I recommend that you try not to fall into total copyeditor mode during this phase, but do flag any glaring typos you encounter. Just remember to read first with your gut (or your heart or whatever metaphor you prefer) because that’s how most people will read your stuff.

During this part of the process, don’t just focus on the negative. Make a point to mark the good stuff, too. Draw a smiley face when something delights or amuses you, or an exclamation point when you’re surprised or dazzled. Then go back and analyze it to see why it impressed you. And, of course, consider whether it’s something you can adopt in your own writing.

While these simple marks help you capture your reactions without interrupting the reading experience, I’ve found they can have other benefits as well. One friend I’ve read for is a highly sophisticated British author who has been quite vocal in his dislike—okay, more like scorching hatred—of all emoticons. Yet he wrote back to me after I critiqued one of his manuscripts, admitting that he had become addicted to finding each new smiley face in the marked-up manuscript I’d sent him. In a surprisingly revelatory confession, he described how he became increasingly frustrated and disappointed if too many pages went by without any smiley faces. This experience taught me that even when we critique writers known for their stiff upper lips, we still need to show them a little love.

Once you’ve marked up the manuscript, it’s time to go into analyzing mode. While this is the hard part, I also think it’s the good part because here’s where I really start to feel my brain growing. At this point, I’ll create a new document to capture my observations. Later on, I’ll harvest from that document to draft a summary of my critique. My end deliverable to most authors I’ve read for is a marked-up manuscript and a page or two that summarizes both my overall reaction and any observations about specific parts of the manuscript.

BREAK IT TO THEM GENTLY

Occasionally you may encounter a manuscript that simply doesn’t work. Here’s where it’s important to acknowledge how subjective tastes are. There are plenty of best-selling novels that I find unreadable, and I suspect you can say the same. So just because you hate what you’re reading doesn’t mean somebody else won’t love it.

When I encounter this issue in a manuscript I’ve been asked to read, I’ll spend some time carefully drafting a note to the writer, explaining that I’ve concluded I’m simply the wrong person to review this piece. Here’s my rationale: Completing a manuscript is a huge achievement, and I don’t want to crap all over somebody’s labor of love just because it’s not my kind of book. So I essentially “recuse myself from the jury” in situations like these. While the writer is inevitably disappointed, I think this is a far more merciful approach than tearing apart something that I never would have chosen to read in the first place.

Even with a manuscript you enjoy, it’s inevitable that you will have some negative reactions to share with the writer. That’s okay; they want and expect some constructive criticism. But I think it’s important to put the time and effort into being diplomatic, “caveating” your criticism (I’ll repeatedly emphasize that this is “just my opinion”), and making sure to highlight both the good and the bad. Writing can lay a person bare emotionally, and it’s a major gesture of trust that another writer asked you to review his work. Make sure you treat that trust with the respect it deserves.

GIVE THE GIFT THAT KEEPS ON GIVING

Obviously I’m a big proponent of critiquing, both as a powerful skill builder and as a way to give back. I’ve had some pretty incredible experiences as a result of corresponding with other writers and critiquing their work. For example, in 2004 an author who’d previously published a couple of romances sent me a manuscript to critique that had her publishers scratching their heads because it was such a departure from her first two novels. In her e-mail, she blithely added, “I know my current title sucks, so let me know if you have any ideas.” The book completely blew me away, so I sent her some editorial comments and a list of possible titles. At the top of the list was the phrase “Water for Elephants,” which Sara Gruen ended up using as her title. It’s been an unbelievable thrill to see how successful that manuscript has become, and deservedly so. And at the time, Sara and I hadn’t even met face-to-face. Thank you, Internet.

At this point I hope I’ve made a convincing case for the many benefits you can derive from reading and critiquing the work of other writers. If that’s not incentive enough, consider this: I got my first book deal because I critiqued somebody.

Years ago a writer whom I’d only encountered at Backspace, a popular online forum for writers, reached out to me privately to ask for help on a query she was drafting for her latest manuscript. I did my best to help her and promptly forgot about it. Two or three years later, when I lamented in a Backspace post that I was about ready to give up on trying to sell my novel, she reached out to me again, asking if I’d be interested in a referral to a publishing house she’d worked with. I was, she referred me, they liked me … and all of a sudden I’d sold a freaking book. All because I, an unpublished writer, once gave a critique to an already published author who found my input helpful.

I’m not saying the same will happen to you. But who’s to say it won’t? I can tell you this: Historically, when I’ve given back without expecting anything in return, I have reaped the greatest rewards. Pretty cool, this karma stuff.

So please consider reading and critiquing the work of other writers. Or don’t. It’s your choice, and it’s your opportunity. But don’t wait to magically become qualified to do it. If you take writing seriously, you already are.