The information we experience every day is assigned merit to all of us. We “judge” what we hear on the news. We “evaluate” a university lecture. We “like” or “dislike” a movie, a meal, a photo, a story. We’re all critics.
Some writer-readers are struggling with this point, particularly when they are young to write and edit. Sitting in a judgment of another writer’s work often feels distasteful, and doing so may conjure negative memories of when we were misunderstood or dismissed by others.
Conversely, while struggling with our expertise, we may be willing to share our opinions with other writers. We can’t seem to say anything constructive. If we’re critiquing on Scribophile, we may feel that we are wasting one of the author’s coveted “spotlight” critiques.
Having used Scribophile on-and-off since 2009, I’ve seen countless readers qualify their commentary on my own work (“I don’t read your genre,” “I haven’t read your previous chapters,” “I’m not good with grammar,” etc.) and I’ve seen even more cry woe on the forums about how they can’t critique because they’re not experienced enough, not educated enough, or not talented enough. Others decry the very sort of criticism writers’ groups and workshop sites like Scribophile foster, suggesting that the perfunctory nature of such criticism is ultimately more harmful than helpful.
Scribophile as a community thrives on the principle of serious commitment to serious writing, and the foundation of that commitment is reading and responding to others’ work. I invite you to get some hot caffeine, strap on your thinking cap, and read on, if you want to explore some elements helpful to improve your critical skills.
Approaching Another Writer’s Work
Listed here are some ideas I’ve found helpful for approaching others’ work; these tips are about your mindset as a critic. These ideas are not exhaustive at all. The best teacher is experience, and I encourage all writers to reflect on the ways in which they approach others’ work as well as how they can best contribute to the growth of others on and off of Scribophile.
#1: If You’re Genuine, You’ll Be Constructive
To be constructive means to come to criticism with the ultimate goal of helping the writer improve. It always means criticizing the writer with good intentions. It does not equate to coddling—being so nice you’ll never say a hard thing—nor does it equate to browbeating—being so hard you’ll never say a nice thing.
Being dishonest or refusing to offer valid criticism where you’re able is a disservice to the writer. Don’t shy away from honesty. Few things are more constructive than hard truths delivered by critics who really want to help and customize their criticism with a genuine interest attitude.
As you interact with Scribophile works or elsewhere, remember to always approach the critical task with a desire to be truly helpful. If your criticism is based on this basis, your comment will be constructive irrespective of your expertise and experience.
#2 No shit
“As for literary criticism in general: I have long felt that any reviewer who expresses rage and loathing for a novel or a play or a poem is preposterous. He or she is like a person who has put on full armor and attacked a hot fudge sundae or a banana split.”
—Kurt Vonnegut
Few things will deflate a writer faster than harsh criticism unnecessarily. To be honest and to be brutal is not the same thing. Critics must learn without coddling and without being jerks to express hard truths.
Even rude people with valuable insights into the craft can be good writers. The problem is that if you express valid insights obnoxiously, the author won’t care. In order for people to listen, they must feel that the person criticizing them has their best interest in mind, and being harsh doesn’t communicate your best interest.
In my earliest days writing, I received some negative criticism from a writer who decided to berate me for penning a bad phrase rather than explaining to me why the phrase didn’t work. I was insulating myself to his criticism because he was rude. I reviewed the work years later and realized that his criticism was valid. The issue was not his criticism content, but his malicious delivery. If he had come to my work with the desire to be genuinely helpful, I would have listened to what he had to say, and during a formative time in my writing career I might have gained some enlightenment. Not only by being obnoxious, but by retarding my growth as a writer, the critic made me doubly wrong.
A sign of literary and personal immaturity is unnecessarily harsh criticism. Don’t be a jerk.
#3 Don’t Be Too Timid
“Flattering friends corrupt.”
—St. Augustine
Every writer likes to be praised, particularly by those who are not obliged to praise them because of their marital status or birth. But profound praise can be as harmful as heartless criticism. This is because it does not offer any real comment on the work.
Refusing to offer criticism where it’s needed is one of the greatest disservices you as a critic can do for other writers. Some critics may be concerned that if fully disclosed, their criticism may be too discouraging. Critics have to contend with the reality that writing is art, people have art views, and those views will not always be praise eruptions. In a piece of writing, there is no safer environment to point out problem areas honestly and succinctly than a forum designed for that very purpose.
None of this is to say that you shouldn’t commend a piece of work if it truly is fantastic or that you should not highlight the gems within a work. Again: honest criticism is constructive criticism. If in your eyes a work is so well crafted that there is nothing worse than grammatical hiccups, tell the author. They deserve to know they’ve done a fine job. Sometimes people genuinely deserve a “well done.” Don’t skimp on encouragement where it can be authentically offered. Even if a piece is messy, do your best to highlight a few strengths. It’s going to express your best interest—especially if you have to say a lot of hard things.
The Sum of Approaching Others’ Work
Be constructive, meaning, have the best intentions for helping the writer. This could mean telling tough truths. If it is necessary to tell hard truths, do so with respect. If it is worthy of praise, offer it. Highlight a piece’s strong points—even if the negative points far outweigh them. Be genuine in your motivations, and there will be genuine action.
Authorial Intent
This section concerns authorial intent and has as its purpose the critic’s growth as an interpreter of that intent. This section is not so much about judging an author’s intent as it’s about being aware of that intent and factoring that awareness into your commentary.
#1 Background Is King
“It is important to appreciate the amount of subjectivity and pre-understanding all readers and listeners bring to the process of interpreting acts of human communication. But unless a speaker or author can retain the right to correct someone’s interpretation by saying ‘but that’s not what I meant’ or ‘that’s not even consistent with what I meant,’ all human communication will quickly break down.”
—Craig L. Blomberg
While interpreters are always within their rights to read whatever they want however they want to, what they are not at liberty to decide is authorial intent—what the author desired the audience to receive from their work.
As a reader and a critic, you must be careful to understand an author’s work on their own terms while also interpreting those words. There is a substantial difference between, “This is how I’m hearing what you’re saying,” and, “This is what I say your words mean.” Don’t presume to tell an author what their work is supposed to mean, but do tell them how you’re interpreting what they’ve written.
A work-in-progress may experience a variety of illnesses. Contextual questions, like questions of syntax, grammar or, to some extent, plotting, are not cut-and-dry. Context questions relate to the interaction between the intent of the author and the interpretation of the reader. They’re murky waters to navigate because you as the reader have to exercise a bit of telepathy; you have to try and get inside the author’s head, ultimately “What is the author trying to convey with this sentence, this piece? Who is this piece for and is it going to communicate successfully with the target audience? Is it clear that there is a target audience?”
Some authors are great in pieces of genre; they know all the chords to strike, they know what the piece’s tone should be, the types of characters that should appear. It can be completely mucked up by other authors. They’ll write a romance piece that reads like a technical manual or a flowery memoir with a tangle of dead-ending tangents. It’s not always easy and natural for new critics to explain why something does or doesn’t work, but innately, we know. Let the author know when those moments come up.
#2 Unwanted/Unwanted
Asking the question, “Is that really what you meant?” isn’t always bad. We were all misunderstood. Sometimes the results are humorous, but other times, we’re grateful for the opportunity to correct misunderstandings.
If in your criticism you find yourself questioning the use of a word or phrase, or even of a character, idea, or plot point, it’s advisable to bring such questions to the writer’s attention. It may just be you, but it may not just be you. They probably mean to communicate clearly unless the writer has a philosophical axis to grind, and it should at least be made known that they may have botched it up.
Conversely, there are instances where things left unwritten speak volumes. Perhaps a character “falls off the radar” in mid-scene, and it leaves you scratching your head? It may be appropriate to point out confusing instances of the unwritten for the author’s consideration.
Because my own novel employs many neologisms, critics jumping in mid-story often highlight those neologisms to make sure I’m using them as intended. While it can get tedious to say to myself, “Yes, that is what it means,” I am always thankful for keen eyes. This is the kind of sharp, thoughtful criticism that every one of us should aim for and be grateful if we receive it.
#3 Gender accounting and intended audience accounting
A genre is “A category of artistic composition, as in music or literature, marked by a distinctive style, form, or content.” When reading an author’s work, it’s crucial to take into account its genre and intended audience. If you’re even-handed in your critiquing, you’ll at some point be reading a story in a genre you might not otherwise touch, and while you might wish Twilight had been a one-off rather than a worldwide phenomenon, it’s inappropriate to harshly judge an author’s work simply because you don’t like their sort of story.
Consider the question of the intention of the author and how it will resonate with a intended (or unintended!) audience. Sometimes you have to ignore if a story resonates with you personally or not. Instead, ask yourself if your vampire-novel-loving daughter would resonate with it. Are the intended audience suitable for story, plot devices, characters, and verbiage? If so, why not or why not? If no, why not or why not? The quality of your critique should not be dictated by your personal tastes. Train yourself to offer valuable insight even on writing you’d never pay money to read.
When reading work outside of your sphere of interest, remember these principles. Being constructive doesn’t mean you have to love or even like the work. If something is written well, it’s written well—prejudices aside. If you’re truly unable to be objective, you would do the writer a better service by moving on.
#4 Don’t Pretend to Be a Non-Writer
A film director is watching movies other than a moviegoer. A chef tastes different from the average person for a meal. As a writer, stories need to be seen differently from non-writers. That’s not a bad thing.
By sharing our intestinal reactions no different than an unversed beta reader, we can be helpful to other writers. On the other hand, writers should be able to explain with more clarity than the average person why something does or doesn’t work in a story. A writer’s insight is of a different quality than a non-initiate’s insight. Both are necessary for success, because if one day a writer moves on to pitch his work to those in the literary establishment, that work will not be judged by average readers until the professional gauntlet has survived.
All readers have the ability to share their gut reactions, but not all readers can slip on their “writer glasses” and offer critique on that level. Good reviews provide both kinds of insight, so as a fellow writer, bring your entire experience to bear to help others embark on the same journey.
Summary of Author’s Considerations
As best as you’re able, judge an author’s work on the basis of their intent—this includes noting instances of the unintended! In consideration of genre, judge the work not on the basis of your interest in the genre, but on the author’s skill at writing a piece that strikes the proper chords within the genre they’ve chosen. It’s not possible for you to read as a reader only, so don’t pretend to be something you’re not.
What You Know Write (and Critique)
“A good writer may come out of any intellectual discipline at all. Every art and science gives the writer its own special ways of seeing, gives him experience with interesting people, and can provide him with means of making a living… It is not necessary—or perhaps even advisable—that the young writer major in literature.”
—John Gardner
Contrary to the belief of a lot of new writers, learning to write and critique doesn’t require sixty-four credits of college English or an MFA. Plenty of writers and editors don’t hold English or Creative Writing degrees, and while I in no way wish to discourage those who choose to improve their writing and reviewing by taking the high road of formal education, neither do I wish to discourage the 98% of you reading this who haven’t and won’t be able to front the money and time for such an education.
An applied skill learned through a combination of technical knowledge and experience is the ability to forge valid criticism. We’re fortunate to live in an age where vast quantities of technical information are available at our fingertips. As never before, contemporary writers can write informed literature. Critics are also able to check the facts of writers like never before.
Just as you’re willing to fact-check history or science before you include something in your story, it doesn’t hurt to do that for those you critique. Granted, they should do that themselves, but maybe they’re writing a genre you write, or maybe they’re writing about your field of work or interest? Being educated or experienced in any field will not only enrich your writing, but also your criticism. If you’re a fry cook, your ability to write or critique a scene in a modern commercial kitchen is better than that of someone who hasn’t had that experience. Because you know what it’s like to really work in a kitchen, you can speak to the authenticity of any such scene, and you can speak to the authenticity of the kinds of people who work in commercial kitchens. Your grammar may not be the best, but there’s still something worth contributing to it.
Great writers are keen observers of life, both informing and informing by life. Bring your life’s authenticity to your writing and criticism. You have perspectives, knowledge, and experiences others don’t. Use the skills and knowledge you already possess when reading and responding to authors. Put to work your formal and informal education and experience of your life. This is what it means to “write what you know” and, in our case, “critique what you know.”
Immerse yourself in stories of all kinds
One of the cardinal “writing for dummies” rules is that if you want to write well, you need to read a lot. I don’t doubt the validity of this statement, but books are only one medium of storytelling among many. My contention is that by immersing yourself in movies, television, and other storytelling mediums, you can learn about dialogue, plot, characterization, and all the other aspects of “storytelling” that appear no matter what medium you choose.
Look for great stories if you want to understand what makes a story great. Plunge yourself into them. Although you may not be able to verbalize it, it will increase your innate understanding of what makes a narrative work. This will improve your writing as well as your criticism.
Stealing from smart people—including you
Consider the criticisms that were most useful to you. Why have they been working? Read them if you need to. Then find a way to adapt your own criticism to the good things from those criticisms.
Consider the critiques you’ve shared that have been helpful to others. What made the author stand out? You may even consider requesting feedback from an author on your criticism. Ask how more helpful you might have been.
Criticizing is a skill that you, like writing itself, can improve over time. But it takes practice and discipline like writing. Make it easier by nurturing what works on yourself.
A Writing Well Reading List
There are many solid writing books that will not only improve your writing, but also your ability to read critically. Rather than provide you a hundred sources, here are a few I’ve been able to get my claws on, have dug into, and can personally vouch for:
Good Prose, by Tracy Kidder & Richard Todd. The writer-editor combo of The Atlantic share their wisdom through a tightly-edited, insightful, and entertaining survey of nonfiction writing that has plenty of benefit for writers of all stripes. The book’s section on “proportion and order” in narrative has revolutionized my own thinking about how stories should be structured.
How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy, by Orson Scott Card. A good resource if you write these genres, Card provides practical advice on publishing, agents, etc., in addition to familiarizing the reader with dos and don’ts for writing Sci-Fi/Fantasy, including some technical questions. The book’s a bit dated by now—especially the parts about the publishing world—but there are some nuggets of timeless truth within.
On Becoming a Novelist, by John Gardner. Despite the Modernistic tendency of abusing the pronoun “he,” this may be the most formative thing I’ve read about novel writing. It’s slim, readable, practical, and comprehensive.
On Writing, by Stephen King. This book is something of an autobiography penned by one of the most successful authors of all time, snappy, humorous, entertaining, and more than a little instructive for anyone who wants to write and read better. King reminds his fellow writers that “Life isn’t a support system for art; it’s the other way around.”
Story, by Robert McKee. Considered by many to be the “screenwriter’s bible,” Story belongs in the library of every serious writer whether or not they ever aspire to the silver screen. McKee is a master of properly balancing a plot to satisfy an audience, and all writers should glean from his wisdom.
The Modern Library Writer’s Workshop, by Stephen Koch. Koch flexes his student’s muscles by providing copious citations from the masters who have graced the past few centuries of literature. The author fades into the background at points while readers are treated to the musings and experiences of Dostoevsky, Flannery O’Connor, Hemingway, and others.
The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers, by Christopher Vogler. Vogler is one of the entertainment industry’s most skilled living writers. Working primarily from the theses of the late cultural anthropologist, Joseph Campbell, Vogler illustrates the plot devices and character tropes that underlie the world’s oldest stories. Recommended for new writers of the speculative fiction genres and those who wish to write epics.
The Value of Criticism
“The arts too can be taught, up to a point; but except for certain matters of technique, one does not learn the arts, one simply catches on.”
—John Gardner
Criticism’s value is double: it helps others first and most obviously. Second, and maybe not as apparent if you’re new to critiquing: It improves your own writing.
As you examine the work of others, you’ll be able to see what works and what doesn’t work. You will begin to notice patterns as you edit your own writing, and you’ll begin to sift out the problem areas. It’s difficult to judge your own work objectively. Doing it for others helps you get a clear head and recognize how you do the very things that others are criticizing for doing.
This article hasn’t had as a goal the outlining of a criticism “process.” The reason for this is that I could no more outline a criticism process than I could outline a fiction writing process. There is no single monolithic “right way to do it” that will unequivocally work for everyone. Herein are general guidelines and considerations that I’ve found helpful over the years and that others have appreciated. If you write critiques constructively, taking consideration of what the author is trying to do, and if you do so authentically, drawing on your experiences and knowledge, you’re on the right track for writing great critiques. The details of how exactly you do that will become clearer to you as you criticize. As in any discipline: seek and continue to receive feedback.
Appendix I: “Line Edits” and “Critiques”
“Line edits” and “critiques” are not the same thing. These two types of reader responses address different issues, and in order to ensure that you receive the kind of criticism you’re seeking, you need to know what you’re displaying.
A “line edit” is a thorough, line-by-line examination of a manuscript. Good line editing requires a detailed editor with a keen eye and working knowledge of contemporary English grammar, syntax, and idiomatic. The purpose of line editing is by removing technical errors to make a manuscript as readable as possible. Typically, works that receive line edits receive them because they’re in need of them.
A “critique” is an in-depth review, touching on characterization, plot, theme, scene structure, poetry of language, and other related factors. Notice how I didn’t list anything about spelling or proper comma usage? It’s because that’s not critiquing; that’s editing. Works receiving criticism as described here are typically free or mostly free from errors that distract readers from the story.
No one is perfect, and the inline critique option is one of the best tools at our disposal on Scribophile. I can tell you that no one should be ashamed to receive a line edit after having never read or submitted a flawless piece of writing for review. There are many sharp eyes and sharp minds browsing Scribophile, and even the best writer’s eyes glaze over after so many hours of staring at a white screen.
That being said, a readable text is part of what is absolutely necessary in order to receive genuine criticism as described above. In my experience, an unreadable text has never provided the basis for a fantastic piece of writing. Messy prose screams “messy story.” If you want criticism of story, your text must be as clean as possible.
If you’re willing to admit that your mastery of the technicalities of writing is not the sharpest, by all means, employ the knowledge and expertise of those on this site who do; it’s a wonderful resource. Readers can’t truly resonate with your story until you weave a piece of art that makes them forget they’re experiencing a piece of art. When you’re able to achieve this, you’ve removed the hurdles preventing your reader from authentically engaging with the story you’ve created. It’s at this stage in your writing that you can consistently receive deep criticism.
This is, of course, not to say that imperfect prose can’t be critiqued. Part of writing great reviews is learning to spot the gems in the story and encouraging the writer to press forward despite any weaknesses. If you’re honest and genuine, this won’t be a problem.
If all else fails, list at the top of your submitted piece the sort of critique you’re seeking by highlighting specific questions. “I’d love to know how you reacted when X happened,” for example. This will encourage readers to engage with the sorts of questions you’re asking.
Appendix II: Critical Group benefits and limitations
If you understand how critical groups can best be leveraged, they will help and shape your growth. Criticizing others as above helps you grow; but there’s more to it. Critical groups’ benefits are threefold.
First, wide-ranging exposure. Would you like to know what people will think of your work outside your social circle? A group of critics will expose your work to people of various backgrounds. You can learn how to react to your story a teen writer with big dreams or an ex-botanist from Native America writing a retirement memoir. This is the type of demographic insight you’d pay good money for when it comes time to sell your book. Even in small chunks, it’s valuable to know how different people experience your work.
Second, there are many sharper prose eyes forging. If three different people in your text travel all over the same thing, the problem is most likely not those three people, but your text. Especially if your text is hot off the press, you can catch errors early, and writers tend to be sharper than the general population with these kinds of things. Go look up the cost of a professional manuscript editor in your area, and you’ll be glad for many eyes combing over your writing.
Third, and above all: networking. Sites such as Scribophile and in-person critical groups should aim to develop a network of people who will read your entire work. Don’t get angry at forks for not being spoons—a reader jumping in mid-story will never give you the same level of commentary as someone who’s been reading since chapter one. If you’re ready for that level of reading, you need others to agree to read the book from start to finish. To build relationships, use critical groups and sites such as Scribophile. Be attentive to others and share with them good reviews. As your relationships deepen, you’ll eventually find yourself with a list of contacts to trade with. But this requires that you be the type of person that people want to read their work. Behave professionally, and over time, you’ll find yourself surrounded by likeminded individuals who will give you the kind of meaty, informed commentary you need. Critical groups and workshop websites have the rule of thumb: you get what you put into them.
Appendix III: Confused still?
If you have any questions that I have not addressed in this article, I encourage you to contact me on Scribophile privately or to contact me on social media. I’m happy to help.
