Getting
people to offer criticism is a great deal easier than accepting it.
It's human nature to love something when you've created, nurtured and
lived with it. But it remains true that many successful authors owe
their success, at least in part, to their ability to accept, absorb and
learn from criticism. Writers should be greedy for criticism. It
means your reader has engaged sufficiently with your work to want to
improve it. It's a smart writer who listens to several sets of editorial
criticism and then distils the best of them into a rewrite that turns a
good book into a superb book. Who wouldn't
want
to improve characterization, tighten plot, increase pacing and deepen
motivation, along with adding impact to the opening and the climax? If
you can do that by listening to criticism and then take credit for it
all by putting your own name on it, again: why not?
Most of my
clients accept criticism very positively. Of course, it is important
that the criticism is itself constructive and it's vital to have a
trusting relationship with whoever is offering the criticism, be it
publisher or agent, family or friends. Most of the writers I work with
are confident enough in their talent, and trusting enough of me and of
their editor, to be able to accept editorial criticism with equanimity.
As Maeve Haran once said to me, 'Of course, I'd rather you rang me
and told me you loved it and that it was perfect, but I will revise it
if it's going to get better.'
It is rare that an author's words reach the printed page without someone
suggesting changes, be it plot restructuring, or line-by-line
copy-editing, and it is a wise author who knows that they will get the
credit themselves if the novel gets better. It's also the writer - not
the agent or the editor - who will be blamed publicly, by reviewers, if
there are flaws. It behoves all of us in the process to remember that it
is the author's name that appears on the book, and the author must be
allowed to be the final arbiter over what advice to accept or reject.
Why do some writers have difficulty accepting comments from others that
are intended only to make their novel better? It may be because the
manner in which the criticism is offered is tactless. Saying you love a
book takes up half a line, but describing in detail a dozen plot
infelicities, six points where the characters step out of character, one
occasion where the riming has gone awry, an incident where the author
has brought a dead character back to life inadvertently and a suggestion
for a stronger ending can take ten pages or more. But an editor or agent
might need to include all of these comments in one editorial letter. So
when I write editorial letters I try to remember not only to point out
what I think needs changing, but also to comment on what I think is
particularly good. It's surprising how easy it can be to forget that
at times. I try to remind myself of the necessity for regular
encouragement by remembering what hard work it is to be a novelist!
Agents and
editors love working with authors who are open to their ideas. It
makes the editor and the agent feel more a part of the book and it bonds
them more closely to the writer's career. This could in turn lead to
that vital extra bit of effort within the publishing house or the agency
necessary to carry the writer on to the next level of success. Agents
and editors are always trying to do more than is physically possible
within each working day (and during what is laughably known as our
'spare time', which in my experience is likely to be dedicated either to
work taken home for evenings or weekends, or spent at work-related
social events). We do all work under enormous pressure, so if you can
work in a way that motivates your agent or your editor to want to do
that bit extra for you, it is you and your career that will benefit. It's
human nature, after all, to want to do more for someone you like and
admire and whom you feel takes your advice.
One of my clients, barrister-turned-thriller writer John Trenhaile, was
superb at this. He regularly received six sets of editorial notes on his
early novels. He would get long letters commenting on his manuscripts
from his UK hardback editor, his UK paperback editor, his US hardback
editor, his US paperback editor, his Canadian publisher and his agent!
And he loved it. He would wait until he had all six, analyse them in
great detail, picking out the best from all of them, and produce one
response letter to all of us, setting out the changes he planned to
incorporate into the next draft. If someone's comment on the central
character in chapter 5 was not to be acted upon, they would then either
argue their case or acknowledge that John was right. John's response to
the variety of comments he received from a range of editors was that
each one would probably make at least one good suggestion that the
others would miss. He saw a definite benefit in having several sets of
eyes scrutinize his work.
John is unusual in being able to work with so many editors. I have always
thought it had a lot to do with his training as a barrister: he was used
to teamwork, but with the knowledge that the team, although expert, did
revolve around him, the leader. Barristers have to collate and analyse a
huge number of facts in order to produce a clear and cohesive final
argument. In John, a barrister's case-winning presentation had become a
novelist's technique for improving his final manuscript as much as
possible.
Another author I represent, the Irish thriller writer Keith Baker, also
embraces editorial criticism with enthusiasm. His editor and I always
comment on the fact that Keith doesn't just fix the problems that
editing has highlighted, he improves each new manuscript draft
dramatically more than is ever asked for in editorial notes.
It
is undoubtedly hard to slave over a draft manuscript for months or even
years and then to receive a mini-manuscript of criticisms -large and
small - from those who seem to criticize rather than create, instead of
the bouquet of congratulations and the letter of praise, which is what
every writer really wants from their editor or agent. But learning to
accept and include in your work the results of wellmeaning
constructive criticism can be enormously beneficial to your work, and is
a major step on the route to becoming a professional writer. I'm not
suggesting that any writer should become a slave to their critics: it is
the writer who picks and chooses what criticism to act on. But rejecting
helpful advice is pointless.
Copyright © 1999 Carole Blake
About
Carole Blake
