Critique Me!
Take a look at my first draft for Dreamscapes: Being Chased and tell me what works and what needs work. Read time: 7 or 8 minutes.
I really put the writers through the ringer this time.
The 2023 Imagine August writing challenge in To Live & Write may have seemed like low-hanging fruit at first, what with the wide-open invitation of a theme like Dreamscapes, but I like to nudge writers into unfamiliar or uncomfortable situations for their own benefit, so I raised the stakes.
Rules of Engagement
Imagine August: Dreamscapes
Choose a subtheme: Being Chased, Being Lost, Being Naked in Public, Being Trapped, or Falling.
Write a 1,000-word story that has the weirdness and complicated feelings of this kind of dream.
Submit within 30 days.
Receive feedback from a panel of judges pretending to be publishers who will not be rude and hurtful, but who will also not hold back.
Revise, rewrite, and resubmit based on this feedback.
I gave the writers fairly ambiguous submission guidelines, but I gave the judges very specific submission guidelines, the most important being that the story has to trigger in the reader the kind of anxiety that triggers the kind of dream the writer chose.
I set the writers up to fail. On purpose. For the sake of learning something important through experience. I know! I’m just a big old meanie.
I sent anonymous copies of each story to each judge to avoid all possible bias, so their feedback would be laser-focused on how the story delivered or fell short.
Every single writer had to revise their work, some extensively, as I knew they would. Again: big. old. meanie.
The point of this project was to get the writers used to rejection from faceless decision makers and show them what a privilege it is to receive any kind of feedback about why they were rejected, let alone what an honor it is to be invited to make changes and resubmit.
There are two very important statements I want to make about these stories right here and right now:
Every single first draft was very good, and some stories were freaking awesome as they were. They just didn’t fit the brief for the Dreamscapes project. I told each and every writer to keep their original as is. I know these writers, so I’m familiar with their style, tone, and voice. I love their quirks and turns of phrase and inescapable need to be funny or tender or spooky. The first round of stories was wonderful.
Every single writer exceeded expectations in their final draft. What some of these writers did was pure magic. Others worked hard to deconstruct their piece and rebuild in entirely new directions. They all raised the stakes, the tension, and the anxiety. One writer rewrote her piece precisely according to the feedback received and it turned out that the changes at the end simply would not work with her voice. So, when it came to our lit night at Books, Inc. Alameda last Thursday night, I had her read a revised piece with the original ending—it worked much better that way.
My only regret is that a few of the writers had a hard time initially with what felt like negative feedback. I can vouch for the fact that there was nothing cruel or malicious or frivolous in the feedback. It was constructive criticism. But that can hurt, too, if you’re not used to it.
Okay, so where’s Karma’s hand in all of this?
Because you know she has something to say about this …
Big old meanies are supposed to get their comeuppance, so where’s mine? Right here, ladies and gentlemen: For starters, I have two writers who hold me accountable to the To Live & Write membership and to myself, and for finishers, I’m going to ask everyone who reads my piece to tell me what they think.
Janet insists I have some skin in the game, in every game. I can’t just lead a workshop or present a challenge like Imagine August and sit back on my laurels, watching everyone else do the work. I have to share my writing as well. I have to take on some of the same risks that come with exposing yourself through story.
Erica likes to throw me extra challenges or, worse, repeat back to me the challenges I make for myself—just to keep things interesting. When Alameda Shorts picks up again in 2024, she’ll be the one assigning genre mashups just for me. Barbarian Noir is my all-time favorite, so far. But the hardest part is that I get 24 hours to write my piece, where everyone else gets 30 days.
This craziness was my idea, way back in 2018 I think, because I felt guilty that I was the only one with a guaranteed spot in Alameda Shorts. My work doesn’t go through a panel of judges for my own lit nights or writing challenges—it gets judged right there in front of the audience. If flops or it flies. It soars or it dies. Right there in the room. It’s nerve-racking, but also slightly addicting.
Back to Karma:
I wrote my piece the day of our Dreamscapes event, threw it up on the website with everyone else’s work, and raced off to Books, Inc. Alameda to emcee. It’s the first time I didn’t read my own work at one of our lit nights (there wasn’t time and I wanted the other writers to have the whole spotlight; they earned it).
It felt like cheating. Sure, my skin was in the game, but where was the risk? Where was the chance to learn whether it delivers or disappoints? How do I know what worked and what needs work? The dramatically tighter deadline didn’t feel like enough this time.
So, I decided to put myself through what I put the Dreamscapes writers through. I sent my piece to the judges with a couple of other late entries that missed the deadline. Only one judge knew it was from me.
I got back some honest feedback that was 100% spot on. Insightful, helpful, and yes, a little frustrating. That’s what I call success! But then, my work has been edited by all kinds of people for 25 years now, so my feels are fine.
If you’re a paid subscriber, you get to say your piece on my piece. The link and password are on the other side of the paywall. You will also have access to the rest of the Dreamscapes stories until 700pm Wednesday, November 1.
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