Writers’ Group meetup and writing date

Whoops! I forgot to blog on Monday. That’s okay, I can make this one longer for it.

Writers’ Group meetup was this last weekend, and for the first time in a long time I actually had something to share. Branden went on a literary-critique tear; I’ve rarely seen him so enthused about giving feedback when he reviewed Rachel’s story and Becky’s book blurb. I submitted almost 9,000 words for review, and Branden has been reading them as I’ve been writing them, so he didn’t have as much feedback for me as he did for them (which is fine). But I got lots of good feedback from the girls. Few enough problems that I’m either doing really, really well or no one can bring themselves to tell me what they really think. Or maybe they’re withholding judgement.

Just for the record, I don’t actually think anyone thinks it sucks and is keeping it from me. That was a joke. Oddly enough, sharing holds no real terror for me. I know I’m not perfect and could always do a lot better, and am prepared to hear that feedback when it comes. It’s gratifying when I get less of that than I expect, and at the same time it makes me itchy for more. (Though, I think getting more quantity and more specific “I really liked this part!” would scratch that same itch.) But getting any feedback at all is a privilege and a blessing and thank you, thank you, thank you Sarah, Becky, Rachel, and Branden for your patient and dedicated reading and reacting.

But the fact that I’m going to need a whole new group of beta readers was raised during the meetup.

My friends can help me hammer out the problems. They can help me patch the holes and fix the typos. But they can’t be surprised by the story, because they already know the twist. So, I need several people who don’t already know it, who can read it and tell me if the twists and turns are any good, if it hangs together, if it delivers on its promises. I’m looking forward to having a fresh audience, when it comes time for that.

Yesterday was this week’s writing date with Becky, during which she put the finishing touches on her blurb (it’s looking really great now!) and I got some words down. Pretty exciting. Also, pretty nerve-wracking. I am wandering into uncharted territory now, and I have no outline for this version. That aspect has been really freeing, yet scary. Still, I’m enjoying seeing where my fingers take me.

Well, that’s all I’ve got for now. Happy Hump Day!

Word count: 9,656 (▸)

Giving good feedback

Neil Gaiman has a quote: “Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.” When I first read that, I didn’t understand it at all. Since embarking on crafting usable feedback for my good friend and partner-in-pen Becky, it’s make more and more sense to me.

It’s a rare thing to read a book that is exactly what you would have written, if you had written that book. You might have had the protagonist make different choices; you might have used more (or less) figurative language, you might have incorporated more teddy bears. Whatever the case, a lot of the joy and value of reading a book that is not your own comes from those things that you would have done differently. It gives you a different perspective on something you feel you know.

When you have the opportunity to critique a work in progress, and your goal is to give actionable feedback, I think the hardest thing is to not try to force your critique-ee to do what you would do. Although sometimes it feels true, it is not accurate to say that yours is the only right way to do a thing. When you say “I wouldn’t have used this word here,” think to yourself, “Is that because this word is being used incorrectly, or because of my personal aesthetic choices?” If the word is used correctly, then that’s a good sign that you’re projecting your personal narrative voice onto the project you are critiquing.

When you’re picking out perceived problems, and you suggest a solution for it, you run a high risk of becoming attached to your solution. If your critique-ee decides to keep it the way it is, or change it in a different way, you may be inclined to take it personally, or even be disappointed that the “story you want” isn’t getting written. (Tangent: this is why I don’t understand commissioned stories. How could it ever be exactly what the commissioner wants? /tangent.)

As a critiquer, I am absolutely addicted to giving suggestions. I have found that I can’t not give suggestions, most of the time. If I see a word or phrase that bugs me, I leave a comment like, “reword this. Maybe something more like this?: [ . . . ]” I do that because I’m worried that if I don’t leave a suggestion, the full meaning of my criticism won’t be clear. Will she think I mean it’s awkward, or that the words don’t mean what she thinks they mean, or that they convey a different message than she was going for? I could say “reword for clarity / definition / mood” but... my tendencies are to suggest solutions. And I don’t think there’s anything inherently wrong with that. The key, very important thing, is to not become attached to my suggestions. For that purpose, I try to give not-great suggestions that get my meaning across. Something to point an arrow in the right direction but not push the author through a portal that leads to the destination.

One way to keep yourself in check when giving feedback, if you’re finding yourself trying to rewrite the story in your own words, is to always leave your feedback in the form of a question. “Did you mean to make so-and-so sound like an asshole here?” “Is this the definition of this word as you understood it?” “Are you sure giraffes are adding something to this scene?” “Could you be using more teddy bears?” And so forth.

I think it’s very important to be criticized, as a writer. You don’t spot your own biases and erroneous beliefs if no one calls you on them. You never have a reason to think about things differently. It’s incredibly hard not to have your feelings hurt by critique, but even so, it’s possibly the best tool in your belt. You’re so, so lucky if you have people in your creative circle who can give good, meaningful feedback. As a person receiving criticism, it’s important to take what they say into account. But, to paraphrase the Gaiman, they don’t know exactly how to fix it. Only you can write your book. As givers of criticism, it’s important we remember that.

So, if something doesn’t work for you in the WIP you’re critiquing, sometimes a vague “this doesn’t work for me because…” is plenty. Sometimes a person wants to find their own way up the mountain; they just have to know the mountain is there.

An interesting realization

I’ve been rereading Becky’s first novel for the purpose of critique (and enjoyment, of course). I’m a bit nervous about it, because I don’t pretend to be an authority on writing quality, literary virtues, or writing clichés one might want to avoid. Every time I find something I want to “pick on,” I second-guess my own intellectual authority on the subject. It’s not going to stop me from giving my complete critique, but it makes me want to poison the well in advance, before she’s even gotten to read it.

But I’ve been thinking about my “qualifications” as a reviewer, and I’m realizing that I may not be the most unqualified person on the face of the planet to give meaningful critique. That’s a nice feeling.

Until our writers’ group was formed, I’d never really had the opportunity to give critique to an unpublished work, and especially not one that was intended for eventual publication. Because my group are my friends, my first instinct is to be kind and pull any punches that I might feel like throwing. For you writers’ group members who may be reading this, I’m never ever dishonest; I just have a tendency to emphasize my positive feedback. Recently, I polled the group to find out what we are all hoping to get out of it, and discovered to my delight that some of us are actually looking for the most rigorous critiques we can get. So, for those who want them, the gloves are coming off.

But something to keep in mind while critiquing is what audience the author is aiming their work at. You don’t want to rip apart the lack of wooly sheep in a book that is hoping to appeal to fans of rhinoceroses, for example. I am, at this point, hoping to write a book that has “literary merit,” by which I mean, “has subtlety, symbolism, allegory, themes, and a moderate amount of currently-relevant politics.” That is not what everyone wants, and that is okay. I don’t want anyone to think that I think that kind of writing is better than any other kind. It’s just that, right now, I’m highly attuned to that kind of writing: looking for the themes, looking for the hidden messages, looking for the slight twisting that gives a story ambiguity. If I don’t see it, I throw up red flags, and I have to remind myself that not everyone writes that way. It’s a balancing act.

But something else I realized is: I actually feel qualified (well, as much as I ever do) to give critique on pretty much any genre of story. My sci-fi teeth aren’t as sharp as some other people’s, but I’m able to keep up, I think. I won’t spot tropes and traditions in that genre as quickly as many of my peers, but that’s not always a bad thing. I’ve definitely been made to rethink choices I’ve made in my own book because of observations made by people who aren’t well-versed in the hardboiled genre. </tangent> I read almost every genre of book, from popular literary classics to literary classics few of my generation would have been exposed to to Poe to Shakespeare to Silverstein to King and Koontz to Scalzi to Grafton to Patterson to Niffenegger to Vinge to… well, the list goes on and on and on… and on. I’ve read Interview With a Vampire, I’ve read Dracula, I’ve read 30 Days of Night. (Not the Twilight series, though.) I loved Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I think that about covers the spectrum of the vampire genre? And that’s just the example that is closest to the surface right now. I read almost anything with words on the page, and I’m… fairly discerning, at this point. I can enjoy bad books, but I know they’re bad.

So… maybe what makes someone an “authority” is extensive study of a topic, rather than someone pinning an “authority” badge on them. Maybe I do have the intellectual authority to give meaningful critique.

I’m still working on reading through it, Becky, but so far I’m enjoying it, and I hope that my (eventual) critique will be helpful to you. ❤

Word count: 3,278 (೎)

Writing again!

I am writing again! And it is good! I have almost completely finished my outline—I’ve gotten to the point where most of what’s left to outline is stuff that is staying mostly the same from Cassidy1. That in and of itself is sortof a double-edged sword, since outlining that is boring. And boringly outlining things is unappealing. But I shall power through! Because on the other side of the outline lies... The Narrative.

I’ve been making incremental progress over the last couple of days. Real Life has been complicated, with vet visits happening three out of five days this week. I try to open the file and peck out a line or two despite the mental distress that my sweet little furballs inspire. Also, someone in my writers’ group is going through something extremely exciting that I’m really not allowed to talk about. But I am thinking about it quite a bit.

Right now I’m feeling full of warm fuzzy goodness to be part of a writing community. It’s a small one: pretty much just my writers’ group. I know I could join something bigger, join a forum or a fandom or something, but I’ve always preferred smaller, closer circles. I am just eternally grateful that my group is one that is so goddamned supportive and giving. What would I do if Rachel didn’t like me harassing her on a daily basis, moaning about how hard writing is and how I’m a special snowflake because I’m struggling with writer’s block? I would probably give up, to be totally honest. It’s good to know that writer’s block is ubiquitous, and that I’m not a special snowflake, but that so what, that doesn’t make it not terrible and real, so here have some hot chocolate and quit hitting myself. It keeps things in perspective to know that the most passionate prolific writer I know has days that she plays WoW all day and doesn’t write a single word. (Though, sorry, Rachel, the title of most passionate and prolific may be transferring to Becky before too long.)

I have a tendency to think that there’s a method to do things, a “right way,” like the five-paragraph essay. If I don’t do my outline with this particular formatting, I’m doing it wrong! That sort of fixation is the killer of creativity. Talking to people who all do things different ways gives me the courage to do things my own way and not worry if it’s “right,” because it’s my own and all it has to do is work for me.

I feel like I should try to blog about something other than writing. My daily struggles aren’t super interesting. But it’s all I can think about at this point, so it’s all you get. Until next time, faithful readers!

Reading complete!

I finished The Big Sleep last night. It’s a wonderful book and I’m certainly going to be reading more Raymond Chandler from now on (in fact, I have just now checked out Farewell, My Lovely from the library). He is where all the awesome hardboiled tropes come from. He warms my guts.

I feel like I am armed and armored, where before I was naked and wielded only a stick. Yes, I survived the wilderness, but I wasn’t pretty at the end.

My metaphor isn’t holding up too well. That’s okay.

I am very excited to begin writing again. Given the changes I feel are necessary to make my book not just good but great, I’m going to have to start by outlining—again. Yes, I’m starting completely over once more. But this time, I’m keeping all the same characters and they’re playing the same roles, if in different ways. This means that I will almost certainly need at least one more draft between this one and the final draft, but hey, what else am I gonna be doing? Might as well write something worth reading.

As with the first day of anything, I start out excited and quickly become overwhelmed and terrified. (Not to mention that I’m tired as balls.) My brain is trying to tell me that it’s okay to play some Don’t Starve before getting started. My brain is wrong. The metaphor for my feels about writing is, if I were to have five energetic kittens fighting each other in my lap, playing with my hair, pulling on my earrings, that’s about how focused I feel. This may be at least partially because this is actually happening to me right now. I need to put myself into an environment where I control the stimuli. It doesn’t have to be quiet but the noise and tumult should be present by my will.

I wish I had more to say about writing right now. Being at the very beginning of a new draft makes for thought storm but word drought. So I will talk about other things.

My friend and Writers’ Group cohort Becky has been participating in Twitter pitch contests, and that is most excellent! She actually has a finished book to pitch. I’m a little jealous, not gonna lie. But it’s been making me think that I could really use a community. Blogs I follow, comment on, and/or contribute to. Twitter banter. Forum friends. Self-promotion would probably be a lot easier if I felt like less of an internet spectator and more of an internet participant.

I would love to have shorter stories to share, so that people might read my work and enjoy it, and maybe long for more. I have shared a few things on deviantArt, but have never gotten any feedback. Does anyone have suggestions about where to share short fiction with a community? I’m not a writer of fanfic, though I sort of wish I were; that comes with some built-in exposure.

Later today I’m going up to the city park to sign a petition to recall all members of the Jefferson County school board, because reasons. Though I do not and will not have a child in any school district, I still believe that education is basically the most important thing when it comes to bettering one’s life, becoming a creative person, and becoming a good neighbor. Having a school board dominated by people who prioritize money and “patriotism” over quality of education will simply perpetuate the problems that exist in society today.

Anyway. I’m gonna wrap this up, I feel I may be participating in avoidance behavior at this point. Wish me luck, and happy writing, all!

Well, this has been anticlimactic

Just as I embarked on my third draft journey, I received the feedback from my writers’ group that I had so craved. While it has been overwhelmingly positive, the things that got picked on surprised me, and to my surprise, stung me quite a bit. I don’t want to go into them at this point, since I haven’t even mustered the courage to finish reading all of it. I know that intentions matter little when writing inclusive fiction—just because you don’t realize you’re furthering a negative stereotype or trope doesn’t mean you shouldn’t correct it when it happens. Still. I feel a little picked on, which I know is something I need to get past.

I found myself reacting to some of the feedback with, “But... I feel like that’s true to the genre,” which made me realize that I’m actually not all that well-versed in the hard-boiled detective genre (previously mis-identified [by me] as noir, which is a whoopsie made by the film industry, check it out if you’re interested) despite reading many contemporary examples of same. As they say, you can’t break the rules until you know them.

I picked up a couple of academic-style books about the Hardboiled genre, Unless the Threat of Death is Behind Them by John T. Irwin and Hardboiled and High Heeled by Linda Mizejewski. So far, I’m about 82% of the way through UtToDiBT (that’s a fun acronym), and it’s really opened my eyes to what’s “important” about the genre. The tropes are fun, but they aren’t what makes it literary. It’s surprised me on many levels: one, how close I came to a lot of the marks without having been aware of them. Two, the fact that there are a lot of different ways to write correctly within this genre. Three, the best things about literature are present in the best Hardboiled and/or Noir novels.

Discovering this stuff has really raised the bar for me. I’m simultaneously invigorated and goddamned terrified. I have seriously considered straight giving up. I have reminded my writers’ group that wunderkinds are bullshit, but it seems like the inventers of the genre all wrote literary-level novels on their very first try. I have a hard time imagining juggling all those balls, to be totally honest. But, if I think through the process, I have realize that either, they actually got very lucky without realizing it (which actually is a thing that happens), or they had this in mind as they wrote, and possibly shoehorned some things in which might have felt very unnatural to them at the time in order to get that level of literary value. Dashiell Hammett may have had a notecard that said: “Theme: contrast the repetitive with the extraordinary with the singular” and then another notecard that said “parable: Flitcraft? Features: flying shrapnel, breaking machinery” and looked back at these notecards as he crafted the dialogue—certainly a final-draft problem. The Maltese Falcon didn’t spring forth from his forehead, fully formed. It was designed, and he took as much time writing it as it took to get it as close to right as he could. (And, to be fair, it wasn’t his first work in the genre.) Hammett, Chandler, Cain and other authors within the genre were all striving throughout their careers to master their craft—more than just telling stories, they were telling the Human Story, even if those who fancied themselves authorities in the world of literature considered detective novels to be pulp fiction.

Writing is a marathon, not a sprint.

I was reading UtToDiBT earlier and was suddenly overcome with the urge to fill out some notecards before I forgot all the brilliant things that had just occurred to me. So, instead of being OCD and forcing myself to keep reading, I went and got my notecards. I filled out six notecards with two character’s starting and ending points and the events that trigger the changes. I am happy that I did this. Now I’m done and am going to go back to reading. I’ll notecard again if the mood strikes me. If not, I’ll roll right into HaHH. After that, I’m going to be reading at least The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett and The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler. And then I’ll feel at least a little more secure in asserting that something that may be considered a “bad” thing to do falls within my genre.

I may even feel empowered to do it differently.

Hiatus continued

I have deeply enjoyed my month of break from my novel. Indulging in self-loathing-free video game time has been a blessing. I’ve forgotten what my novel is even about while at the same time seeing, at a distance, some of its weaknesses and realizing some ways to make it better. Also, I’ve had the beginnings of an entirely new and different idea percolating in my head, which is pretty huge for me, considering.

We had our writers’ group meetup on Sunday. Branden had finished his draft and posted it all in enough time that everyone had read it for the meetup, so it was “the one” for both of us: the meetup that would prove most helpful because the beta readers have finally seen the whole picture and can review based on that. I really, really need to get better about writing down questions in advance for my group, because I always think some up and then forget what they were by the time group rolls around.

In lieu of my own questions that I thought up, I sent out a link to a list of “fifteen questions to ask your beta readers.” It’s better than nothing, but a lot of them were sorta iffy considering that my girls have been reading this draft since January and the beginning is probably a bit hazy at this point. Still, I sent it out and hopefully a couple of them will be able to get back to me with some answers. I also know that at least Rachel is planning on rereading it and giving comprehensive feedback, a service for which I really, really should be paying her, and am intellectually and spiritually indebted to her for insisting on providing it for free. (The same goes for anyone else who would do that for me. Thank you, in advance, so very very much.)

Which brings me to the fraught topic of feedback. I love feedback. Can’t get enough of it. In particular, I love critical feedback; meaning that I really like it when people can tell me what things they didn’t like or that didn’t work for them. That’s because, I know that my book isn’t perfect, that it’s very far from perfect. I’m trying to train myself out of the habit of poisoning the well before a meetup and saying “I’m aware I could be worldbuilding more” because that tells people that they don’t need to mention it—even if they were going to. I want to hear them tell me this, because if I tell them in advance, then I can’t know if it’s something they would have mentioned. And without people telling me what didn’t work for them, I don’t know where to start. Is that thing that really irks me something that my readers really enjoy? Or vice-versa? I have a very hard time working with “everything was great, I loved all of it!” at this stage, when I know it’s not finished.

Happily for me, I did get a fair amount of critical feedback. Not as much as I would have if everyone had read it all of-a-piece before the meetup like they did with Cassidy0, but definitely a starting place.

Thematically similar: I think that it is a reflex, when one finishes a creative work, to immediately believe that it is terrible. I don’t think it’s something you can control. You’ve been spending a massive amount of time and internal energy on a thing, and suddenly it’s gone—it’s almost like you’ve broken up with someone. Things rush in to fill that gap. There’s emotional backlash. It’s normal. It’s also very important to realize that it’s a physical reaction, not a truth. You will probably never believe that your work is as good as it could be; as good as it looked on the shelf of your brain. Your readers never saw it in its original packaging. They will never know how far short you fell. They will also never look as closely at it as you have. Don’t make their minds up for them in advance. Can you imagine how bleak the world would be if a story was only told when the writer was 100% satisfied with it? Beowulf wouldn’t exist.

You will probably be able to read your book with a glow of pride some years after you’ve pushed it out of the nest. You’ll like the nicks and dents. In the end, that’s part of what makes it what it is. But even if you hate it with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns, you should still push it out of the nest. Someone will love it.

Next Monday, I will be dusting off Cassidy1: rereading, making notes, etc. I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to start making changes. I’ve never gotten to a real second draft before. I’m nervous. Wish me luck!

May the road rise to meet you.

My good friend, and the mastermind behind the Writers’ Group that has served as such an amazing support and inspiration, is moving away soon. We went to school together in our adolescence, and over the years we’ve been through various levels of closeness, but against all odds, we never lost each other.

Over the last year or so, she’s attended the group less and less as life has become more and more stressful for her. That has meant that we’ve seen each other a lot less frequently. I’m sad—truly—that she’s moving away. It seems so permanent. But I try to keep in mind the fact that though we only attended school together for one year back in 1996, we’ve remained friends for almost twenty years (what the fuck twenty years?! how in ze hell). Though distance may have strained, miles cannot break our bonds of affection. We will meet again. And I’m thrilled for her, that she has found a person who she judges to be worthy of her love. She’s quick to tell me that she wouldn’t move just for a guy, and I believe her—she has some great opportunities where she’s going. But I know that he’s the catalyst to this move, and I know that my friend is anything but indiscriminate in her affections. If she’s willing to uproot herself and her daughter, he must be something special.

So, my friend, my soul-sister, I will miss you. Deeply. May you find all the happiness you seek.

In her absence, I do worry a little about the fate of the Writers’ Group. She hasn’t been attending, true, but somewhere in my mind I still think of it as her group, and I miss her when she’s not there. On top of that, some of the more regular attendees have sorta stopped writing. I wouldn’t presume to judge that—to write or not to write (and to share or not to share) is each person’s decision and many things contribute to it. But...

As I near the end of my second draft, I know I’m going to be taking some time off writing afterwards to, well, get a breather, put things in perspective, and let it all sorta steep. Branden’s finishing his story in not too long here. Rachel has been writing shorts for our amusement, but sometimes she goes months without anything to share. And Becky is going to be finishing her story in the not-too-distant future, and I don’t know what she’s going to want to do at that point.

I love all these people, and without their creative influences in my life, I feel like a part of me would shrivel and die. Several of our members opt to not attend if they didn’t read everything and don’t have anything to share. If enough people do that, the group will have zero members. Every time someone comes who maybe wasn’t planning to, they always say what a positive thing it is and how happy they came even though they didn’t feel like they had much to give. I wish everyone could remember that feeling, the level of support we give each other.

It’s hard to share your creative work, and a lot of writers’ groups fail because the attitude is more competitive. If I didn’t have my girls (which is what I call them, Branden notwithstanding), I think I’d stop writing completely. Let alone trying to get anything published. It’s discouraging when no one cares to read what you write, to give feedback, to validate... and having beta readers is an essential part of writing.

I’m pretty sure it’s my insecurities talking here, but some of my group seems to have a boundless energy and confidence when it comes to writing. To them, writing is an imperative; they would do it whether anyone was reading or not. They deign to scatter their pages before me, like rose petals before the queen (in this metaphor, they are the queen, not I). I scramble to pick them up and consume them, and my feedback, such as it is, amuses them. Maybe for my girls, writing would happen whether we were here or not. But it probably wouldn’t happen for me.

And it’s weird, coming to that realization in this moment. My creativity never hinged on having an audience before. On the other hand, I would only be sporadically creative before. I absolutely wouldn’t trade it.

Word count: 45,383 (녇)

Don't get bogged down in word count!!

Writers' Group was yesterday, and as per usual, it was great and awesome. For once, WIP-feedback was both gratifying and greatly needed (on my part). I was feeling really stuck and couldn't figure out where I wanted (or needed) Cassidy to go. If a book is a ski hill, I felt like I was standing on the top of the mountain where the bottom of the mountain is the reveal/climax/what have you. (I realize this is the opposite of the imagery we were taught in high school. Go with it.) Once I start sliding down that hill, the descent will be fast and blurry and kept in line with only a minimum amount of control.

And I was (/am) at only ~30k words.

My initial goal for my second draft was between 75 and 80k. My first draft was almost exactly 50, it being NaNoWriMo and all. I was baffled: how could my second draft be so much shorter‽

Of course, to answer that would be begging the question. There is no proof that my second draft will be shorter than my first draft. I can’t know that until it’s finished.

Secondly, if my second draft is shorter than my first draft, there are a lot of things I’ve left out of my second draft that I intend to go back through and re-insert: for example, worldbuilding; fleshing out her “missing year”; mood setting; a few other things. Referring to things like that, I’ve come up with my own personal hashtag: #ThirdDraftProblems. I’m super douchey about it, too. I do the Jimmy Fallon hashtag gesture and everything.

But even so—even though I know I’m leaving things out—I am still feeling paralyzed because I feel like I’m zeroing in on the end too fast. And this is not a problem I should concern myself with. Why? Thanks for asking!

They say you shouldn’t include anything in your story that doesn’t contribute to the development of the plot, the world, the character, or some combination of the three, and I strongly agree. That being said, there is probably an infinite amount of things that do contribute to the story that we choose to leave out when constructing our first, or second-first, drafts. If it ends up being short, then it probably feels short, and you’re missing the opportunity to fully flesh out your character or your world or sometimes, even the plot. There are things that you can include to make everything feel more rounded and complete. For example, in my first-first draft, I had a scene where Cassidy talks to some baristas at a coffee shop which had resisted the tide of franchise coffee shops that had swept the nation. They were insufferable hipsters, which was fun to write—but more fun was realizing that, due to the nature of her memory loss, Cassidy didn’t know how coffee was made. One of the baristas made reference to ‘slingin’ bean juice.’ After that point, Cassidy assumes that coffee is, literally, coffee bean juice, and wonders how one juices a bean.

That scene didn’t have an encore in my second-first draft, but I still love it. I want to include it, if I can. I’ve even invented the café where it would take place. But I have a feeling that, this time around, it may not make it in.

Unless the story needs lengthening. Or even rearranging, or whatever.

I realized something else at Writers’ Group that I had been honestly ignorant of until then. I’d written my first-first draft with an eye to snarky humor: serious story but told with a humorous voice, like Gun, With Occasional Music. This time around, though, I haven’t been doing that nearly as much. There are funny moments, but I haven’t done nearly the number of similes that one associates with the noir genre as I did in Cassidy0.

(<Aside> I just wrote Cassidy0, or “Cassidy prime” for you non-math-nerds out there, because I got sick of saying first-first draft. From now on, first-first draft will be Cassidy0 and second-first draft will be Cassidy1. No, it’s not easier to type, but it makes me happy. So there. </Aside>)

I asked my friends, as we were nearing the end of the discussion, “So okay, is it funny?” and everyone’s face sorta fell and they looked uncertain, and I immediately went over my writing in my head and realized... it really isn’t funny. As I said before, there are individual scenes or lines that are funny, but by and large the situation isn’t funny, the dialogue isn’t funny very often, and even Cassidy’s internal monologue usually isn’t funny. That actually makes me a little sad. I like the noir humor; it’s part of why I wanted to write a noir novel to begin with. Plus, I do feel like the noir humor is part of what makes the genre what it is; without that, it’s just grit. The humor is what shines a little light into the darkness against which our noir hero battles. I mean, the very word “noir” simply means “black.” We need to lighten it up, don’t we?

I’m going to file that under #ThirdDraftProblems.

Word Count: 29,449 (猉)

Writers' Group: the unexpected joys

I really like getting feedback on my story. I like to know what everyone noticed, liked, didn’t like, etc. As I’ve written before, it’s not as helpful to get feedback on an incomplete story as it is to get feedback on a completed one, but it’s still rewarding as fuck to get kudos on something you worked really hard on, and nudges to keep you on the right track. It’s awesome, and my Writers’ Groupmates—who are also my friends—are really unbelievably good at giving even critical feedback in a very positive way. No one is overly harsh, but no one is afraid to point out weaknesses, either. We’re all here for the same thing, to get to be better writers; and that can’t happen without taking a nice, long, painful look at our weakest points.

But a thing I found, that for some reason I didn’t anticipate when my friend suggested we form the group, was that... I really like reading their work. Not a one among them has bored me, or made me face-palm, or caused me to do creative word ballet in order to make negative feedback sound positive, or, god forbid, made me lie. I rabidly anticipate each person’s next installment, and it’s never enough. I want more! Right now!

I pride myself on being a very critical reader. I had one of the best Lit classes in college, so that’s how you know I’m a professional. But seriously, I can enjoy a poorly-written book, but I know it’s a poorly-written book. And while not a single one of us is the next Edith Wharton or Herman Melville, I haven’t read any poorly-written books from them yet. And I’ve seen all of their styles and competencies evolve and mature, frequently by leaps and bounds, and I think that each one of them could be published one day, if that’s what they want.

It makes me a little sad when my friends are afraid to share their work; although I’m familiar with anxiety and depression and other mental potholes, it does (against my better judgement) make me wonder why? What did we do to make anyone think that they would get anything but accolades? I love reading their writing; it’s like a little, crystal-clear and fish-eye window into their souls, distilled through poetry and prose and stage-direction and dialogue. I never knew that my friends were such wordsmiths, and it’s like... it’s like seeing who or what they want to be, with all the chaff fallen aside. I see the things they think about, the things that interest them, undictated and undirected by any third party: designed entirely by them. The social issues that concern them float to the top, even if they don’t intend for them to. I long for their words to fly free, because we never get so clean and naked as when we find the right word for that one elusive emotion. I want each of my friends to feel that when they open the cage of their words in the midst of our group, the plumage will be a source of joy for all, and never a reason to cringe or cower.

Anyway, this post is an homage to my Writers’ Group. I want to link to each of them so that the love can be spread around, but I didn’t get their permissions in advance, so I will come back to that if they say it’s cool.

• Rachel Schoenbauer
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• Becky Munyon
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