So we've talked about finding a writer group that's right for you. But when you've found one, how do you make sure you're right for them? The last thing you want is to find the perfect group and then either ruin the dynamic or be asked to leave. We all know "that guy" in the group - the loudmouth, the bore, the delusional wanna-be who thinks everyone should worship their writing like gospel. And frankly, it's pretty obvious how not to be 'that guy' - just step outside your own head and consider other people for a moment. But there are specific, less obvious 'that guy's for writer groups, and they can make things just as difficult - sometimes more so, because it's not necessarily obvious that they're detrimental to the group. I've been both of them in my day, often at the same time: I'm talking about the Egoist and the Opinionator.

The Egoist

Taking criticism of anything you've done is difficult - no one likes having faults pointed out to them, and a lot of the time we feel that we 'should have known better' or 'should have seen that'. One of the hardest things for a writer unused to workshopping or criticism is recognising that it's a criticism of the work - the words on the paper - and not of themselves.

Think about the last time someone criticised your work - constructively, I mean. Where they told you that this particular character development didn't 'feel right' to them, or that the sentences were overlong and a little hard to follow. What was your reaction? Did you feel stung? Did you feel compelled to spring to the story's defence, explaining exactly why the character's action makes perfect sense, and how the 'voice' of the novel absolutely necessitates lengthy sentences, thankyou very much, and incidentally, has the criticiser written anything themselves, lately?

Or, perhaps, did you quietly take the criticism with conviction that of course they're right, that whole section is just terrible, and so's the novel, and anything else you've written or have thought about writing or even looked at lately, and contemplate putting the whole lot in a drawer, and maybe dropping it into the Atlantic.

Do you dread criticism of your work because how it will make you feel? Does the thought of someone pointing out the spots and warts make you writhe with anticipated embarrassment, or humiliation? 

If so, that's not helpful to your career. Workshopping, editing and criticism are absolutely integral, essential and unavoidable for the writer who wants to be published, and passing all these extra judgements on yourself because someone who was looking for something to fault found something is a waste of energy, counterproductive to the development of the piece, and detrimental to your relationship with the reviewer. 

I'm not saying that criticism should make you joyous - though you can aim for that emotion if you like. Feely crummy because you know that there's now an extra six months' work ahead of you rewriting that bit again, or because you were sure you'd nailed that scene this time and it's just not working for your reader is healthy, normal and expected.

But allowing the judgement to reflect on yourself is not okay. You are not the work. You are not being criticised. And this is just someone's opinion. Focussing that opinion on yourself instead of the work means that:

• you're not really listening to them - you'll look for ways to diminish or ignore the advice
• you'll feel attacked, bitter, put-upon and disliked by your group
• those feelings will be reflected in how you treat your fellow group members:
  • You'll be sharp, sarky, self-pitying, scathing, or all of the above, and no one will want to play with you anymore.

So - they're not talking about you, they're talking about the piece of paper in their hand. Which, if you like, has absolutely nothing to do with you, and is in fact a story they found discarded on a train seat that they just thought they'd discuss. Use whatever fantasy or mind-tricks you like until distancing yourself is an automatic habit whenever someone wields a pen on your work.

The Opinionator

It's hard work giving constructive feedback - even harder than receiving it, believe it or not. Someone who can give you honest, constructive and useful feedback consistently is someone you should treasure forever and keep in a safety deposit box, because they're rare. Most often, people resort to judgement rather than criticism - instead of describing the particular issue in neutral terms to discuss its effect on the text, they use words like 'good', 'bad', 'awesome', 'silly', and drop the matter at that. This doesn't actually help the writer at all - telling them their characterisation is 'good' doesn't actually tell them anything. Why was it good? What about it should they ensure they repeat in future works - is it the dialogue, their description, their actions? How is it resulting in a state of 'good-ness' for the reader?

It's also difficult to avoid the shorthand personalisation - we try to use a conversational tone to lighten things up - "your characterisation's really vivid, here, " or "you use a lot of long sentences", instead of "the characterisation is really vivid here". This makes it much, much harder for the writer to distance themselves from the work, and really take in what you're saying. You trigger their defences and they stop listening and starting thinking of ways and reasons you're wrong.

Most people don't intend to be or even realise they're Opinionators. The aim of feedback is to provide useful information for the writer to work with. The aim of the Opinionator, however, is to make themselves feel good, usually by ensuring that in their own mental comparison, they come out the better writer, or the smarter person, because they found this thing or suggested that. It's not maliciously meant, and is most often a result of that critiquer's insecurity as a writer (amongst other very common psychological needs) but it ensures that every piece of feedback they give is coloured by the need to feel 'better' than the writer they're criticising.

This can be glaringly obvious (I used to belong to Critters, until I grew sick of watching others receive feedback like "you're obviously a beginning writer" before the reviewer proceeded to regurgitate elementary rules of writing) or more subtle, but the net result is everyone - not just the writer, but everyone in the room - feels uncomfortable, put-down and confronted, like the judgement was on them, not the piece of paper.

It is, however, much easier to stop being the Opinionator than it is to stop being the Egoist. The Egoist needs to control what they think and feel about a piece. The Opinionator just needs to control what they say, which is easily done with a few guidelines and a formula:

• This is Not About You. Repeat that in your head before you open your mouth.
• Your opinion is not: important, The Truth, or the key to turning this book into a bestseller.
• You are not the ranking expert on [subject]. 
• There is no such thing as 'the better writer' in a group.
• Do not explain writing 'rules' unless explicitly asked. 
  • Do not invite people to ask you to explain writing 'rules'.
• Be specific in your criticism - use examples, show exactly what part of the text you're talking about. Generalities are useless.
• Describe what the writing is doing and how it affects you
  • Use description rather than judgemental phrases - "The repetition of fillers in Suzie's dialogue interrupts the flow and makes it feel unnatural" is okay. "Suzie's dialogue needs work / isn't very good" is judgemental and unspecific - not okay.
• Focus on the writing, not the person - don't use 'you', talk about the story, not the writer.

A formula, until you've got the process down: 

[Specific aspect of the writing], such as where [give example of what you're talking about] [has this affect on me when I read it].  I think [specific way of fixing the problem, or making the good bit ever better] could be something to think about.

Notice that you list a specific element of the story in each sentence, and provide an example of what you're talking about. This prevents you from making it personal with the writer, and also stops the urge to make sweeping generalisations that make you feel good but don't actually help the story. The emphasis in the explanation (end of first sentence) is on whether or not it worked for you - that is, you acknowledge that this is just your opinion, and that other readers will feel differently. Making a valid suggestion to fix the problem helps you focus on the issue of the story and not personalise the critique, and helps to clarify to the writer why you feel the particular bit did or didn't work.

 Do not expect them to take that advice. That's not what it's for. It's there as extra explanation, not for you to tell the writer how to write their story.

It takes a lot of practise - when starting out, it's a good idea to write down your critique before you give it, so you can re-read, edit and adjust to ensure you're giving valid feedback. Don't worry - I've never met a writer who was concerned that their reviewer wrote down or organised their thoughts beforehand. But I'd advise against letting the writer keep the notes afterwards, in case you wrote them Opinionator-style.

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