Tagged: critical distance

Even The Best Advice

It is vital for writers to seek feedback, from beta readers and also from our fellow authors. Finding out what works and what doesn’t is the only way to get better. But, you need to bear in mind that all this input is coming through a filter, and ultimately it’s up to you to decide which notes to apply and which ones to disregard.

When you get input from another writer, it’s usually them saying you should do it the way they would do it. It might not be phrased with quite such blunt honesty, but when anybody gives advice about anything, how else can it work? Your colleagues are trying to share the benefit of their experience. They mean well. But if you’re not careful, you might get steered toward someone else’s voice and vision.

When you collaborate with a partner, you have someone telling you to do it the way you do it, only better. Your partner has an intrinsic sense for how things are intended to come across, and thus won’t offer advice that leads you astray. Jen and Kent are co-authors, but a similar partner dynamic could exist between, say, a writer and an editor. The key is that you’re teammates with a shared vision, so when you advise each other you’re honing in more strongly on the desired end-product, not diluting or distorting it.

Working with a partner is not a substitute for seeking outside feedback, and you really should listen with an open mind to the comments and suggestions other people offer. That same remove from your work that imposes a filter also lends perspective. They’ll see things that you and your partner missed due to being too close to it. Gathering and processing outside feedback together with your partner helps in identifying which notes are important.

A writing partner is like a voice inside your head, but in a good way.

Are They Ever Really Done?

Something that we knew about in an abstract way, but appreciated more viscerally once we published the first book, is that at some point you need to stop looking for things to fiddle around with. It’s done, move on.

But are they ever really done? (Yes. Yes they are.)

It’s hard letting go. A creative enterprise on the scale of writing a novel requires huge investment, to the point where it becomes an emotional bond with the book itself. You feel responsible for its well-being. There’s also the more rational concern for providing readers with a flawless experience. The paradoxical thing about perfectionism is that it keeps your readers from ever experiencing anything at all. Maybe that’s a kind of flawlessness, but certainly not the kind you should aspire to.

There will be the temptation to go back and do more fine tuning even after you’ve officially published the book. It’s easier than ever to tweak your files and re-upload them. It’s understandable. We’re sympathetic. But here’s the thing: it’s never-ending. There’s literally always going to be one more thing you could tweak, one more edit you can second-guess. Let George Lucas be a cautionary tale.

The best you can do is to do your best. Edit yourself meticulously, and get outside help if editing isn’t your strong suit. As we discussed last time, it can be tough to achieve critical distance and see what’s actually on the page rather than what you know you meant. Even with two of us to watch for them, cringeworthy errors have a way of sneaking in. In one of our manuscripts, we recently discovered “load crack” — a decidedly unsavory sound effect, which we changed to “loud crack” — and this is in a project that’s been read by about ten people, on which we’ve already done multiple editing passes. It’d been there the whole time.

Feel free to use “load crack” in your own work, by the way. We don’t need it.

You let things rest, you do your best, and then you move forward.

A writing partner is invaluable as a second set of eyes on your work, and also as a source of perspective for when to sign off.