Thanks to Rosanne Dingli for the link.
Author, teacher, and life-writing advocate Sharon Lippincott recently shared her Seven Secrets of Writing and they're all poignant. I highly recommend all budding authors check them out.
Thanks to Rosanne Dingli for the link.
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Want to know how to write a great story? Then read John Truby's 'The Anatomy of Story.' I can't recommend this book highly enough. This interview talks about the book's core concepts, which are the core of good storytelling. Alternatively, I teach these concepts in workshops. If you're interested in having me teach them at a workshop, please contact me. Receiving criticism on your stories and poetry is never easy. And yet, as published young-adult fiction author Kate McCaffrey said at a recent workshop, it never gets any easier. From my experience receiving feedback, I agree. When I first joined a critique group, I would sleep restlessly for the week between submitting my story and receiving the criticism, fretting about what I could have done to make it better or what obvious mistakes someone else would pick up. During the group meeting, I would be so tense that I could barely speak, let alone properly take in the feedback. Yet, joining a critique group was one of the best thing I did as an author. Overtime, the anxiety’s intensity lessened, so that although I am still anxious the night before receiving criticism, I am more open to it. Joining the group vastly improved my writing in a way that going it alone ever could have. It allowed me to broaden my horizons as a writer. And, by providing criticism of other people’s work, I not only helped improve their writing, but also saw how to improve my own. Receiving feedback might not get easier, but you can deal with it more effectively if you learn about the different types of criticism. In her book, The Artist’s Way, which I highly recommend, Julia Cameron delineates two types of criticism: criticism that is appropriate and work-enhancing, and criticism that is shaming and damaging. According to Cameron, ‘[p]ointed criticism, if accurate, often gives the artist an inner sense of relief: “Ah hah! So that’s what was wrong with it.” Useful criticism ultimately leaves us with one more puzzle piece for our work.’ (83). In other words, it shows the writer ‘a valid path for [the] work’ (Cameron 80). Shaming and damaging criticism, on the other hand, ‘disparages, dismisses, ridicules, or condemns. It is frequently vicious but vague and difficult to refute’ (Cameron 81). Moreover, it ‘leaves us with a feeling of being bludgeoned. As a rule, it is withering and shaming in tone; ambiguous in content; personal, inaccurate, or blanket in its condemnations’ (Cameron 83). Recognising these differences during a critique session can make all the difference from coming home in tears convinced you don’t have what it takes to be an author, and coming home, a little hurt but resolved to improve your story. It’s also important to recognise that the artistic part in us is a child and needs protection, much like a parent protects a young child. Therefore, it’s vital you find a critique group in which you feel comfortable to receive feedback. As Cameron says, ‘as artists, we must learn to be very self-protective … we must learn to create our own safe environments. We must learn to protect our artist child from shame’ (81). This means learning ‘to comfort our artist child over unfair criticism’ (Cameron 81) and understand that we cannot control the criticism we receive, only our reaction to it (Cameron 81). To do this, Cameron recommends the following steps:
For anyone who feels their critique group is mistreating them, either speak up or get out of there. A good critique group might offer feedback that seems harsh at first, but will do so in a respectful and professional manner. The sacred bond between a teacher and student, of reviewer and reviewee, needs to involve trust. If this trust if violated by people using shaming and damaging criticism, then you are being emotionally abused (Cameron 136). It’s also important that you learn to let go of your work when submitting it for feedback. Many authors have likened writing a story to giving birth – in each process, you are creating a new life form that has a will of its own. Like a parent has to let a child go out into the world, have their own experiences and make their own mistakes, so too a writer must let a story grow in its own way. This means letting other writers read it. Cameron labels the inability to let go of a piece of work, perfectionism. ‘The perfectionist is never satisfied … To the perfectionist, there is always room for improvement’ (128). However, this pursuit of perfectionism isn’t a pursuit for the best. Rather, it’s a never-ending quest that brings out the part of us ‘that tells us that nothing we do will ever be good enough’ (Cameron 128). This leads us nowhere. Instead, Cameron recognises that '[a] book is never finished. But at a certain point you stop writing it and go on to the next thing … at a certain point you let go and call it done. That is a normal part of creativity—letting go. We always do the best that we can by the light we have to see by' (128). Cameron’s final piece of advice on dealing with criticism is to deal with it. Otherwise, it will block your creative endeavours. ‘[A]rtistic losses … must be mourned [because t]he unmourned disappointment becomes the barrier that separates us from future dreams’ (Cameron 136). So forget about the damaging criticism and accept the appropriate criticism for what it is: an opportunity to improve your work. As Cameron says, ‘[t]he artist within, like the child within, is seldom hurt by truth … much true criticism liberates the artist it is aimed at childish’ (136). The antidote to criticism, then, is to love yourself (Cameron 82). The best way to do that is to be creative and get on with the work. In my time receiving criticism, I’ve discovered a few other things that make receiving criticism a little easier. First, give any feedback you receive a few days to settle in. You’ll be amazed at how much more clearly you can interpret the criticism and see that something does need to be changed once you have some space from it. I’ve received criticism I detested only to be inspired by it a few days later. Second, while I have never found anything to ease the anxiety of having your story reviewed, I have discovered that maintaining a positive attitude and acknowledging that any feedback you receive is ultimately going to help your story helps you get through the feedback session. Third, learn to trust your gut because it will tell you if a piece of criticism is useful or not. Often, a little voice in your head will go ‘Aha!’ and a feeling of truth and obviousness will resonate through your body. On the other hand, if some feedback doesn’t evoke an emotion of some sort, it probably has no value. The exception to this is grammar and punctuation. Fourth, remember this is your story and that you have the ultimate decision of what to change or leave as it is. Further, if some criticism rings true for you, don’t feel pressured into utilising it the way the reviewer has suggested. Instead, take the advice, but feel free to implement it in your own way. Fifth, never feel afraid to express why something in your story should remain the way it is. At best, your reviewer and you will gain some insight into your story. At worst, you can always come to a compromise. Sixth, and most importantly, remember that the criticism is aimed at your work, not you. Yes, it’s natural to feel like your story is part of you because you’ve put your heart and soul into it, but it is not you. Detach yourself from it. Most authors recommend allowing three months between writing a draft and reading it. I recommend the same for submitting your work for feedback. So, while receiving criticism doesn’t get easier, it can make you a better writer if you open yourself to it. It can help you release your preciousness about your ideas. And, as you get used to the people in your critique group, you will learn who’s opinion to trust about certain elements, and whose to pay less attention to. Thus, if you’re an author, I highly recommend seeking out a critique group, which can be found at Writers’ Centres and the like. Just keep the above in mind.
References Cameron, Julia. The Complete Artist’s Way: Creativity as Spiritual Practice. New York: Jeremy P. Tarcher / Penguin, 2007. Print. See also: http://juliacameronlive.com/
Inspired interviewed Chris Carter, creator of The X-Files, Millennium, Harsh Realm, and The Lone Gunmen, and one of my main inspirations who made me want to become a writer. Carter talks about his inspiration for wanting to become a writer and discusses some of the forces you have to pit yourself against in order to get your work out there. Large-scale battle sequences have been popular in film for decades, but it took films like The Lord of the Rings trilogy and even TV series like Game of Thrones to show the epic scale that these can reach. The amount of technical prowess from a production standpoint is massive and demonstrates an admirable level of skill to pull them off so professionally.
While I don’t discredit any of this, from a storytelling perspective, which is what I’m all about, epic battle sequences add little character or plot development to a story, instead functioning as show pieces. For me, stories are all about the drama between characters, within complex situations, and relating to plot development. Yet, I never considered how complex building such epic battle scenes was for a writer until I had to write one myself. In my sequence, the antagonists have to use cunning to break into a heavily armoured city before the story moves onto further character and plot development within the ensuing battle sequence. In in a dramatic scene that contains action, the action specifics are less important than the drama between the characters so long as it builds to a dramatic conclusion or adds to the subtext. However, in a large-scale battle that contains little character drama or plot development, the action has to drive the scenes, being engaging in and of itself while, with the action in the adjacent scenes, building to a crescendo within the overall battle sequence. Film scripts usually progresses from an outline or clear synopsis of the story, to a treatment, which is a lengthy prose summary of a story. They then move to a scene-breakdown, which visualises each scene’s action, before adding the dialogue and subtext in the script. In a treatment, it’s easy to write, “Character X fights Character Y” and leave it at that. In a scene-breakdown, however, the writer needs to visualise the onscreen action. And, importantly, if the writer want the audience to keep watching the film, the action has to be engaging. Therefore, writing “Character X fights Character Y” no longer cuts it. Instead, the writer has to show how Character X fights Character Y. So, using imagination, the writer has to construct a sequence in which Character X thrusts her sword at Character Y, while Character Y blocks the blow and counters with one of his own. On top of this, the action has to progress, not only within the scene so that Character X overcomes Character Y, but also so that Character X’s actions affect the larger battle, which in turn leads to an important action and contributes to a satisfying climax and resolution. So, because I prefer to write dramatic scenes that drive the story, this experience was quite complicated for me. But it was also very rewarding to see how Character X overcame Character Y and, importantly, how her actions contributed to the larger story. Although I still prefer character driven stories, this experience has given me a deeper respect for those filmmakers and writers who construct epic battle scenes. I tip my hat to you.
Some inspirational writing advice on overcoming writer's block from some of literature's best: 20 Writers on Overcoming Writer's Block.
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