Ah, feedback. A two-sided sword in a writer’s existence. Without it, most stories are utter drivel.
I can already see you getting ready to object. Simmer down, there, bucko. If you have a look at any good book, you will see that the writers tend to thank a list of people, including their editor(s). You know why? Because these people spotted the plot holes and poor character development and niggly details that threatened to sink the story before it even hit the shelves.
As a writer, you overlook your own mistakes. You get caught up in your story and the feeling you want to create. You don’t read what is written anymore. You’re just too close to it. You need a pair of fresh eyes, uninfluenced by hours, days, months, years of planning and changes and rewrites and new ideas. And, of course, someone who’s willing to upset you when they find problems. This person is called a beta reader.
If you have been following my most recent posts (about Phoenix Fire, blurbs, beta reading and feedback), you are well aware that I am now dealing with writers who have received feedback from my collection of beta readers. Similarly, you then also know how touchy our species is about getting feedback, good or bad. A few years back, I wrote a post called Reality Check. If you need insight into what it feels like to get feedback as a newbie, that would be a good place to start.
As one of the aforementioned beta readers, I have been subjected to cruel and unusual torture. Giant blocks of descriptive summary. Characters that give speeches in stead of talking like normal people. The worst grammar I have seen in ten years. “Stories” that read like dry historical accounts. And, of course, the incestuous couple finding themselves.
Call me petty but I am so over being nice to inexperienced writers who believe they are next in line for a Pulitzer. If anyone comes back to me with complaints about cruel and hurtful feedback, I will respond n the wise words of Dr Beverly Hofstadter (Leonard’s mother in The Big Bang Theory): “Buck up.” If they are affronted by my advice. I will follow it up with Beverly’s amended “Buck up, sissy pants.”