If I Can't Have Writing Talent Like Her, I Can Have a Butt Like Her

          Last night was our twice-monthly writing critique group. I will have to devote another post or two to the great advice I got, but today, I'm going to touch on a few of the uber-important topics we discussed last night.

1. Flatulence. Yes, it's not just for medical journals anymore. One of the writers wrote an explosive piece on the problems of gas (not her own). She dropped the bombs in our laps (the copies of her story) and then left the room. At one point, I had to warn, "We'd better not laugh too hard, or we might get flatulent." It was one of the funniest pieces I've ever encountered. It was not silent but it was definitely deadly...

2. Ways to get rid of aggravating husbands. Wood chippers and nail guns were the weapons of choice last night. Wood chippers (manned by the wives) and nail guns (just leave them on a workbench...the bumbling men will do the rest) were the two techniques covered last night.

3. Teachers who blame their students and wives who blame whole-city sewage systems (see # 1). Those treacherous teachers, when gas cannot be avoided, will silently unload, and then race to another part of the room. Students invariably blame their classmates, and the educator has escaped from the stink they left behind.

4.  The value of pretend boyfriends...absent husbands...crazy ex-husbands who remain firmly "ex."

5. Nora Ephron's rear end. I'm sure she doesn't have a wide-load derriere. However, she should. We ate Nora Ephron's spaghetti last night, and the level of deliciousness had major butt-expanding potential.

This is only the third of our get-togethers, but each time it gets better...the writing suggestions, the conversation, the feeling of kinship.

Thanks.

Writing Groups or Linda O'Connell is Now in a Safe Place

What do the following comments have in common?

"What is that you're drinking--cat pee?"

"You don't have to pad your comments for me. I want to know if it sucks. Just say--'It sucks' if it does suck."

"My cat died...So now, I'm looking for a boyfriend."

"Your endings are always brilliant. These letters could be an incredible book. We want to see more."

"Your ex-husband lives with his mother? Yikes!"

"I don't know where this circus guy came from. I think I channeled him." 

If you thought these might be things overheard during a writing group meeting, you're correct.

photo by Janny Brocken

Recently, I had the good fortune to fall into a writing group. We've only met twice so far, but already I'm enjoying it immensely. (Over the summer I joined a marvelous one--temporarily--but since I had to return to work in August, I no longer had Tuesday mornings free.)

I have a few guidelines, if you're not involved with one but would like to be:

1. Make sure you're clear about what you want when you share your work. Do you want really constructive criticism? Do you want everybody's comments tied up with a pretty bow, or are you of the opinion "If it smells like poop and looks like poop, it is poop...So say 'It's poop,'"?

2. Find a suitable place to meet--one that adds the desired ambience, is quiet enough to hear each other, and has carpeting (so the landings on one's rear-end is a soft one).  We first met at Barnes and Noble, but some whack-job assaulted Linda O'Connell while we were there, and Linda ended up with a multi-colored bruise after falling on her...Well, you get the idea.

3. Make sure everyone is in the same "ballpark," writing-wise. I'm in the bullpen--not quite on the field yet--but I am learning from the other writers and getting great suggestions and submission ideas. Soon, I'll be in the batting rotation...

4.  Make sure your group stays on track. Bawdy comments, snarky remarks...those tend to get the writers off the subject of writing. Revel in Avoid them.

Linda is worried that, after reading the comments at the beginning of this post, people will wonder if she suffered brain damage when she fell. Only two of the comments were said by her. (You figure out which two.)

Predator Editors

photo by Colorfly Studio

         In truth, I like to run a line through something rather than erase it because once you erase it, it's gone. Forever.

             And when I went to flickr I was looking for a photo of a red pen,  but since I won't be able to find this (the above picture) again because I'm hormonally challenged forgetful, I slipped it in here.

        But a red pen would have been a better choice. Because this post is about gifted editors.

      During the summer, I have some flexibility to my schedule, and I'm taking advantage of it; I've joined a group of writers who meet every Tuesday morning for "Coffee and Critique." We bring things to share, and get suggestions on how to improve the pieces.

      Everybody at this table has good eyes and ears. Each one has their own little niche when it comes to editing. But yesterday, I sat next to one of the writers with the fastest pen in the west. And not only is she fast, she's dead-on when it comes to her aim.  

       As soon as I started reading my short story, I could see her out of the corner of my eye. Circling. Crossing out. Drawing arrows and writing comments.

     And I loved it. Because that's what I need help with. I won't say I was ever a brilliant writer, but between August and May, I write for nine-year olds. So I need loads of help discerning what words can be left out, what is cliche, where I'm getting off track.

     So, thanks for being a predator-editor. Thanks for circling around my weak verbs and adjectives. Thanks for attacking my writing with a keen eye.

     Thanks, Alice. (And Donna and Doyle and Bea and Becky and Bill and Marcia and Lou.)

       

        

A Deceptive Book Cover (or I am Such a Snotbox Sometimes)

            I admit it.  I am prone to making snap judgements about people, and sometimes I hang onto them for quite a while.  (I have a friend who is much more open and receptive, and she just shakes her head at me, to no avail.)  Usually when people are a bit uppity, or are in love with the sound of their voice, or...there's a myriad of reasons why I will squint my eyes and determine they are worthy of only my snarky, gossipy comments...And like most women, I will crouch down and wait---for days or weeks or months---for a juicy tidbit about them, which proves I was correct about them.

            There have been occasions when I am in a group of writers, and looking around, I wonder what kind of writers they are.  I observe the way they carry themselves, I listen to the jokes they make, I examine what they do while other writers are sharing, and I speculate.  And invariably, with writers, I am always wrong.

            Because of course they open their mouths and make some incredibly on-the-mark comment about a colleague's piece, or they read from their own work, and it blows me over.  And just like I am the first one to admit that the only way I could make it as an exotic dancer was if people paid me to put my clothes back on,  I am also the first to admit that my initial determination was wrong.

              I once worked with a student in our creative writing camp.  He came on the first day of camp with bright orange hair (as orange as the skin of a tangerine) and a hoodie pulled up, which covered most of his face.  I was inwardly groaning over the prospect of working for three weeks with this young man.

           But he was gifted. And I would have missed out on his gifts if I had stuck with my initial judgement and continued to mentally dismiss him. 

            Young boys who look like they are gang members...Women who look like they are ditzy bobbleheads...People who look like they're right out of a Ma and Pa Kettle movie...All they have to do is speak a few words, and your misconceptions come tumbling down on top of you.