The discussion of inborn talent, beginner vs. advanced classes, etc. reminds me of a ninth-grade creative writing student of mine.

S___ was way below grade-level in, well, every subject. She was a new student in the school, and it appeared that her academic problems stemmed in part from some learning disabilities, in part from simply not being the sharpest knife in the drawer, and mostly from simply being promoted through the grades without certain issues being dealt with along the way. I was less than thrilled to hear that she was taking my class as an elective.

Her writing, however, was extraordinary. She did have quite a bit to learn about how to structure a plot, and her spelling and grammar were atrocious. That said, S___ had an amazing eye for detail and understanding of character. She could pick the right detail and the right words (as far as her vocabulary allowed--and she would ask for words if she didn't have the right ones) to convey those details. She also used the kinds of details that said a lot about different characters, their pasts, their attitudes, etc.

Most importantly, she also liked to write, and liked it even more when she told that she was, at the most important level, a good writer. Unfortunately, she transferred out of my school partway through the year, and I have no idea of what happened to her.

I think that the core of what gave S___ this natural talent was that she paid attention to the people around her, and picked up on the quirks and characteristics that made each person unique. She wrote what she saw, and didn't go about making characters to fit certain stereotypes or checklists.

238. Without having anyone tell them it was good?

Okay, I may have been guilty of sending out a completely green manuscript to a couple editors.

When I was fourteen.

I guess this is why editors hide behind fake names and keep Tylenol in business.

I sent one out when it wasn't ready too. I think I was "on to something" but had not reached it yet.But when I got rejected and even my friends were like "How'd they get there?" I took the hint. It makes me sad to think of it now cause I don't think I could write such a happy manuscript now. But I think the next one will be stronger if I ever write something long again.

Amych, yes and no on the urban legend: it depends on individual store and chain policies. The local Dalton doesn't return unsold autographed copies - they put them on the "bargain" table.

Which doesn't count as a return, which keeps the numbers up.

Anne, I did some volunteer work as a teenager with severely disturbed kids - children who would deliberately hurt themselves, who were violent, who couldn't or wouldn't talk. At least three of them, all under the age of ten if I'm remembering right, drew in a fashion that reminded me of people like William Blake. Theme, content, extraordinary beauty and power, all right there.

I wish I wasn't such a wuss. I love input and solid crit on my own stuff, but I hate dishing out bad news.

Furthermore, aren't you supposed to reply to queries one at a time? I'd always heard that editors were royally pissed off if you simultaneously submitted a full manuscript to two different houses. It's one thing to simultaneously send queries, but once somebody's reading the full manuscript, s/he's supposed to have an exclusive.

Although being "a wuss" as well as good manners, kept you from saying it sucked and blew, so probably better they heard it from you. And maybe it will help them learn. But that is why I hate it when acquaintances give me stuff to read...I can only imagine what it's like for somebody published.ETA: I think Betsy's right.

I'm in an online writer's group and a face-to-face. Everybody in the face-to-face is competent. Not everybody in the online is. By FAR the hardest segments to critique are the incompetent ones. Because every single line has something that needs to be fixed, and I can't flag every single one without devastating the recipient. And the standing rules of the online group (which I think are wise) are that there are five questions that must be answered in every critique; two of them are "What must be kept in the manuscript?" "What must be fixed?". Sometimes it's just about impossible to find something that ought to be kept. "Um... nice use of 'the'."

Amych, yes and no on the urban legend: it depends on individual store and chain policies. The local Dalton doesn't return unsold autographed copies - they put them on the "bargain" table.

Yeah, store policies are a different matter. Unfortunately, I've heard hundreds (really!) of writers say "oh, I'll sign all you have, because signed books Cannot Be Returned", as if it were a universal rule among publishers -- when I knew that in all too many cases, my bosses would make me write up the returns before the writer even left the store.

I know you know your way around the publishing biz; sadly, it's a "rule" that a lot of fairly naive new writers pick up, and it's only going to hurt them when their royalty statements come in.

sometimes though, it's like with the bad fic. Sometimes, they have a good idea that ought to be compelling, but they mess it up with the way they tell it.

Nice thing about being an Old Bat in the world of mainstream publishing: I learned this stuff the hard way, but I learned it.

Betsy, they sent out 238 queries - not the MS. 238 people were sent the pitch letter and synopsis, which I rewrote. That pitch letter and synopsis (I'm not bragging, I'm stating the fact which got my sorry ass into this mess) were sent to a test group of (hang on, let me look at his email) 22 agents. Twenty, on the basis of the pitch and synopsis, requested sample chapters. And within days, they started getting the "novel doesn't live up to the pitch and synopsis" responses.

So they wrote to me, begging.

Oy vey.

Betsy, allow me to reiterate, BTW - these people, nice or not, are so totally and completely not being invited to participate in our writers' group. Brrrrr.

edit: erika, I wish I knew what the story is in this one. I think I know, but only because of the synopsis. The first 55 pages show me diddly.