Sometimes, though, the work is just damned good and there isn't much to critique....
One likes to hope....
The seasoned writer often tells me how precise my work is. Always makes me feel kind of damned with faint praise, that.
'The Cautionary Tale of Numero Cinco'
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Sometimes, though, the work is just damned good and there isn't much to critique....
One likes to hope....
The seasoned writer often tells me how precise my work is. Always makes me feel kind of damned with faint praise, that.
Nothing wrong with precise; it's a damned useful thing to be, unless you're writing something heavily spontaneous and freewheeling.
Well, yeah, but precise is a tool, a style. I'd like to think I'm wielding it in such a way that my readers are amused, touched, moved, what have you.
Speaking of growing, I've finally started outlining for real my "opus" using StoryView. I've been biting at the edges, drabbling little scenes with very little real idea what's going to happen. I'm stronger with character than plot, really. I'm hoping SV will help me put together a skeleton to hang the flesh of the story on.
So, I feel like this is really the official beginning of Kemar. Makes me a bit nervous and excited, and a little butterly-tummy going on. But it's begun in earnest.
Here goes nothin'.
Why do the two have cancel each other out? Malory wrote precise stuff, and I go back to "Le Morte d'Arthur" over and over and over.
Whoo! Go, Astarte!
Drabbles are such very good friends, aren't they? So damned clarifying. They're like a facial for the head.
Why do the two have cancel each other out? Malory wrote precise stuff, and I go back to "Le Morte d'Arthur" over and over and over.
Oh, they don't, not at all. I'm just not sure that this particular reader is seeing anything but precision, you know? However, he and I could hardly have more different writing styles and reading preferences, so as long as he sees some merit in my stuff, that's probably enough.
Oh, crap.
I'm editing the work of one of our two newest writing group members.
It's awful. He dots every i, crosses every t, leaves absolutely nothing to the reader's own choosing, and doesn't introduce the main character until over six pages of redundant description.
Shoot me now.
a little butterly-tummy going on
Good luck, Astarte!
They're like a facial for the head.
Oh, I like that metaphor.
Shoot me now.
No, no, no! Shoot him now. If we shoot the good writers, all we'll have left is Reader's Digest. I don't want to live in that world.
I've never had any luck with writers groups. I've been in a couple of them, periodically, and they always burn me out something fierce. I've even been in at least one with some utterly amazing poets, and got very little out of it. (OK--good edits on one long poem.)
I think, for me, it doesn't force me to write, it just contributes to the background noise in my head that I have to tune out in order to write. Does that make sense? I mean, I can and do ask advice of friends and cohorts on pieces, but sitting around with a bunch of other writers? I'd rather be drinking.