We're talking voices on the blog this week, and how they
affect our writing process. Sometimes the various voices that speak up along
the drafting and revision stages can feel confusing and contradictory. Part of
my development as a writer has been learning when to say, "tell me more
about what you mean," or, "thanks, but that's not in line with what
I'm trying to do."
Sounds easy, but it's not. I'm still working on it. Navigating the voices requires:
- knowing what you're trying to do
- knowing who can actually help you (you trust them and share similar
artistic sensibilities)
- knowing your process well enough to judge when & how much
feedback you need
Getting just one of those elements down is tricky, but all three? Tough. The writing game is unpredictable. This isn't science,
after all. Every story is different. Every character. And you. You are also changing all the time--what you admire in writing. What your goals are, as a storyteller. It's a lot of moving parts, and any one wobbling wheel can upset the entire balance. The most seasoned
writers, I'm certain, still run the risk of coming away from a critique or editorial
letter (or review) feeling black and blue.
The useful voices, I'm learning, are the ones that don't go
away. They niggle and nag and taunt, and force you to shop online at 2 AM
because you can't sleep. They say:
"Sorry, V, but you just aren't pulling off the first
person Golden Retriever POV. It's not believable and it's falling flat, and the
narrative is so ponderous and repetitive. I mean... what's with the obsession with tennis balls and squirrels? And what makes you think that you, a human, can pull off a
believable retriever mentality? You're just not qualified, and the market saturated with goldens! Everyone's moved onto French Bulldogs. I'm sorry to break this to
you, but you're barking up the wrong tree."
Grrr.
What do you say to this kind of feedback? How do you respond to this voice?
Well, you can make your retriever a bulldog,
or you can push yourself. Feedback is only negative if you let it be. Almost
everything you hear about your work, if it's delivered to you by someone thorough and halfway thoughtful, can be made usable, instructive, or enlightening--even if it's
simply by reinforcing what you already know.
Whenever you are told that something seemed off or weak or
confusing, you get to decide first and foremost whether you agree. Here's
where your gut comes into play. Trust it, but don't be close-minded, either. How can you improve your craft if you aren't willing to see areas that could be strengthened? Honed? Rethought? You get to decide what how you go about dealing with that. But if the feedback doesn't feel right and your Golden Retriever POV actually rocks, then you get to own that, knowing it's stronger because it took some punches, but it's still standing.
My point is that you don't always have to fight the voices.
Let them come. Listen to them. You can be
stronger and smarter. Why wage war against the very thing that can help you? Trust yourself to single out the ones that
matter -- and to put them to use in a way that works for you. Work toward that trust. Practice it so that someday, when someone tells you you're POV isn't working, you can look them in the eye, and smile, and say: woof!