The Doctor Is In

Dear Dr. Sue –

I need to be able to want to critique for my peers again. I used to critique and have been told that I do a good job because I mix support with good suggestions.  

 Last year, I volunteered to help judge a contest. Five entries, 20 pages, not my genre. Unfortunately, that contest seems to have “broken” me.  Now, I’m having trouble being supportive when I do critiques. I’m a lot less diplomatic when I offer recommendations. I simply don’t want to critique anymore. For good or ill, my own work is nearly ready for the critique circuit, and I’m dreading the reciprocal arrangement.

 I need to be able to do my part and be a good member of the writing community. How can I regain that energy and enthusiasm for critiquing again?

 

Thank you!

 

Cranky Critiquer

 

Dear Critiquer,

 

My son, who is an enthusiastic reader with a broad range of interests, once told me, “No matter how interesting a book might be—even if I’ve read it before and loved it—as soon as a teacher says I have to read it, it’s over. I don’t even want to look at it.”

 

Most adults are not quite that radical, of course, but I think we’d agree that required reading brings out the cranky in the best of us—especially if there’s going to be a quiz at the end. No matter how excellent a book or story may be, we resist it if we’re in the mood to read something else. It’s like having a taste for scrambled eggs and being served chocolate cake instead—however much we might enjoy chocolate cake under other circumstances, we’re likely to resent it under these. (Yes, I know that a truly hungry person will devour whatever is offered. And when my e-reader ran out of charge on the subway, I read my phone manual. But I wouldn’t say I savored it, and if I’d had to critique it afterward, I would have had a few choice words.)

 

I don’t know of any research on this topic—not surprising, since most studies of resistance assume some form of underlying pathology, and what you’re describing is a perfectly normal reaction. I do have a few strategies to share, and readers are invited to share their own in the comments section.

 

1.     Be slow to say yes. Of course you want to be “a good member of the writing community,” but you can accomplish this while setting realistic limits on your participation. Everyone’s capacity is different; some of us read more slowly than others or have greater demands on our time. Decide what you can handle—one book-length manuscript per month is reasonable for some—and stick to this schedule. If a writer needs her work to be read right away, and you have a backlog, explain that she might be better off going to someone else first, and you will reserve February for her book. You might also be conservative about reading the work of strangers. We all want to nurture new talent, but again, set reasonable limits.

2.     Don’t substitute “chore reading” for “pleasure reading,” at least initially. Put manuscript reading on your list of unpleasant but necessary tasks, along with dishwashing, toilet scrubbing, etc., and make time for it during your official chore hours. If the work takes over your life so that you actually want to read it in your leisure time, so much the better (and be sure to tell the author!)—but if not, giving up your preferred reading to make way for an imposed experience is guaranteed to sour you against the work.

3.     Use your writer’s imagination to make the task more palatable. For example, I pretend I’ve been asked to edit, rather than critique, certain manuscripts. This automatically allies me with the writer: I’m thinking about ways to improve “our” work, rather than about what’s wrong with what she wrote. Thus, all of my comments are constructive. You might also pretend that you’re reading a recently discovered early work of one of the “greats” (pretty much everyone wrote a dismal first novel, so this isn’t much of a stretch), and look for the signs of great promise embedded in the otherwise difficult prose. You get the idea.

 

Thank you, too, for the reminder that a critique of our own work that seems unnecessarily harsh might simply have been issued by a cranky and overwhelmed reader.    

 

Susan O'Doherty, Ph.D.,is a clinical psychologist with a New York City-based practice. A fiction writer herself,she specializes in issues affecting writers and other creative artists. She is the author of Getting Unstuck without Coming Unglued: A Woman's Guide to Unblocking Creativity(Seal, 2007). Her Career Coach column appears every Monday on Inside Higher Ed's Mama, Ph.D. blog, and she is a regular guest panelist on Litopia After Dark. Send your questions to her at Dr.Sue at mindspring dot com.

 

 

 

 

Comments

[lisa peet]

You know, this is such a universal issue for anyone who's figured out a way to do what they love, either in paid or unpaid fashion. So often doing that takes a level of commitment, within or outside yourself (or both), and as soon as that cherished creative outlet becomes a responsibility it takes on the deadly tinge of work. I don't know anyone involved in creative pursuits who doesn't wrestle with this at one time or another -- so thanks, Sue. Good words.

[Katharine Weber]

Those of us who teach writing can encounter this same crit fatigue. I have found it most helpful if I am very clear with myself about the significant difference between reading for pleasure and reading for teaching/work. It might seem to be the same activity, but really, it just isn't.

Ideally, there is some pleasure in reading for work, but it is a different sort of pleasure, and it is connected to the teaching and the growth of the writing student much of the time. It is a pleasure for me as a teacher to see someone's reach exceed her grasp; that's what college is for.

But I have to be careful not to have unreasonable expectations that reading student stories with a pen in my hand is going to be anything at all like the experience of reading, say, Flannery O'Connor stories with no obligations or responsibilities attached other than to my fiction-reading and writing self.

This way, while reading and commenting on student work, if I hit a patch of wonderful writing, it's a bonus. And I don't ever expect work reading to fulfill my personal needs around reading.

[Ray Rhamey]

While I like all of your columns and your writing, the phrase "brings out the cranky" made me smile.

Thanks for the smile.