 Happy Fall! We all know what fall means... NanoWriMo is almost here! Trying to cram 50K into one month is a major challenge. This month in my, It’s a Writer Thing post, I'm going to talk about a tool that can help you get there. Last time, I began a discussion about the concept of stimulus control, a powerful psychological principal we writers can harness to increase our drive to write. By creating a writing situation that we stick to—same day, same time, same place, same old robe that is really falling apart but we can’t live without--we can ingrain a writing habit and amp our productivity. But as I mentioned in my last post, there is a debate out there on whether writers should hit their manuscripts every single day? Some say yes, others say it should be up to the individual author to decide what works for them. According to psychology both of these camps have it right. Life is just full of confusing shit like that. So, though stimulus control is an excellent concept and will definitely work for you if you chose to set up your own writing habit, it can also hinder us at times. Today I wanted to talk about the flip side, a principal called stimulus generalizability.  DefinitionsStimulus generalizability is the concept that covers how one’s behavior can become conditioned to occur in the context of many different stimuli. Remember the stop sign? Sure, it’s a very strongly conditioned stimulus for all us drivers, but so are stop lights, crossing families of geese, and the coffee shop that makes the perfect espresso. Stimulus generalizability is how we turbo-charge the power of the environment to work for us and our writing. To appreciate the potential of stimulus generalizability, it’s important to understand the way stimulus control can mess us up.  THE (POTENTIAL) PROBLEM WITH STIMULUS CONTROLHave you ever heard of a baseball player who won’t change his socks? The guy just wears them, all crusty and smelly, until the end of the season because of some belief that if he washes them, he’ll wash the luck out. In addition to representing a superstitious belief that has zero impact on whether his team wins the game or not, this scenario represents stimulus control at its very worst. We can, at times, become so reliant on our designated routine—or lucky socks—that we begin to believe that the desired behavior we want is only possible in our special environmental conditions. In other words, if we as writers can’t write at the right time, in our favorite coffee house (and in the right table within said coffee house) or while wearing that ratty old robe, we think we cannot be productive at all. Sure, we may bang out a ton of words between 5AM and 6AM on weekdays, but what good is that if we can’t write at 3PM on a Sunday afternoon. Or in the car during a long road trip. Or in the evening after work when we discover we have some surprise free time. Or… What good is it if we can only hit one particular kind of goal under one particular set of circumstances? HOW TO HARNESS THE POWER OF STIMULUS GENERALIZABILITY IN YOUR WRITING n order to be productive as writers, we need to harness both stimulus control and stimulus generalizability. Here’s how. I still say that starting off with one set routine is great. Condition yourself to write under your preferred circumstances first. BUT, once you’ve gotten into a good rhythm with that, it’s time to vary your writing environment. In addition to your usual time, start adding in other writing stimuli: your friend’s house; the car; the diner instead of the coffee house; a different Panera. Whatever. Vary the time, the music. Drink tea instead of coffee (or how about a big old glass of wine?). Just like a dog trained not to be an asshole in public because he can sit no matter where he is and who is giving the command, we will train ourselves to be productive writers under any circumstances. So, remember, though stimulus control is an excellent tool, if we want optimal productivity, we must also practice writing in a variety of situations in order to let the behavior of writing generalize.
 Hello lovely writers! Welcome back to my It’s a Writer Thing mini-series on stimulus control and generalizability. As you may recall, I’m a clinical psychologist, which means I get to take advantage of all those great psychological theories and put them to work for me in my writing, and I want to share that with you. In my last two posts, I talked about the benefit of ingraining a very powerful urge to write by creating a habit. Writing under the same circumstances every day for a few weeks can create stimulus control in which the environment triggers our writing behavior. But I also cautioned that we can sometimes hinder ourselves if we limit our writing to only that special circumstance. We don’t want to limit ourselves! We want to be productive no matter where we are, right? So, to avoid that, once we’ve established a good habit, we need to vary our writing environment (while still sticking with our routine) so we can train ourselves to write under a variety of stimuli. This will allow for optimal productivity. Today, I want to add in two new concepts: cognitive control and locus of control. Definitions
How does this all fit in with stimulus control and generalizability?STEP 1: First off, we must recognize that external stimuli impact our behavior. That’s exactly why stimulus control and generalizability work, right? Whether we’re talking writing behavior, eating behavior, study habits, whether we get on Facebook or get to work on that MS instead, we can’t ignore the impact of external factors on what we do. If we try to, we’re losing out on some potentially helpful stuff and maybe even setting ourselves up for failure (like if we minimize the impact of a coworker bringing donuts to work when we’re trying to count calories).
So, step 1, just remember that external factors impact us. STEP 2: External factors don’t have to be the end-all be-all of our behavior. Yes, stimulus control is powerful, but so is your brain. We need to remember that the executive control of our behavior lies within us. 
Happy June, everyone! I must send a HUGE thanks to Amber Gregg for continuing to host my It's a Writer Thing series on her incredible blog, "Judging More than Just The Cover."
I’ve been very much looking forward to writing this next post in my It’s a Writer Thing series on feedback. In the first, I wrote about general considerations for receiving feedback, and in the second, I discussed types of feedback.
This time, I’ll be talking about critique partners. As we know, one of our biggest sources of input comes from our critique partners, or CPs. These are trusted friends or colleagues who we give our babies to and hope they’ll thoroughly, but gently, tell us how our darling is flawed. Not an easy role, for sure. When we’re on the receiving end, it can be challenging—like find me a big old bucket cause I may be at risk for emesis challenging—but we’ve already discussed why this is an important process, and we’re strong--right?—so we can get through it.
So, we wrote a story, and we braved feedback from our CP or from multiple CPs, which is even better, therefore, we must be good to go and start submitting or querying. Right?
Maybe.
It turns out, it pays to be strategic about the people we solicit critiques from. Having only one kind of CP can result in feedback that is one-sided or not broad enough. We can suffer from too much here’s-what-you-need-to-do-differently and not enough here’s-what-I-loved. We may get only line edits or suggestions about tightening our prose, but nothing on overarching plot problems. We may get a perspective that is too focused on action and not enough on emotion.
See my point?
Finding good CPs can be a challenge, but actually, if we consider that there are many types of CPs, we can learn to think about how each individual’s input fills an important niche for us. These are the various styles of CPs I’ve encountered in my writing, so far.
The Lover: Ah, the Lover. This is the person who basically hands the MS back and is like: I made a few suggestions, but I pretty much loved it, and it’s awesome, and you’re awesome. PROS: We all need a Lover in our lives; they help us keep sight of our strengths and what’s working in our MS. Lovers can be very hard to find; the whole point of CPs is to find someone to help you make your story better, so what do critique partners do? They critique. If you find yourself a Lover, don’t let him or her go. They’re a rare breed. CONS: The Lover does little to push us toward improvement, and seeking feedback only from Lovers can set us up for failure (i.e., rejection) if there are too many problems in our MS.
The Interrogator: The Interrogator doesn’t necessarily tell you anything about your story, but simply throws a bunch of questions in the margins for you to mull over. Maybe these are things they were confused about (and if one reader has a question, there’s a good chance others will too) or things that seem to be missing. They might want to know more about a character’s emotional/behavioral reactions or what the setting looks like. PROS: Interrogators help us think more deeply about our stories, and they often help
us transcribe more of what is in our heads onto the page. CONS: Interrogators may inspire us to delve too deeply in ways that could result in our veering from the main course of our story, maybe digging into too many details in a spot where keeping the pace tight would work better. They may also get us questioning our choices, so it’s important to remember that just because a question was raised, it doesn’t mean we need to change our MS to address it. Not every time, at least.
The Big Picture Thinker: The Big Picture Thinker (BPT) sees plot threads, character arcs, and themes. They’re good at stepping back and considering our stories from a broad perspective. They’re the most likely to really comment on the overall experience of delving into this WIP. PROS: The BPT can help us see threads that tie various plot lines together, which when strengthened, can add new depth to our WIP. They can tell us where large, important pieces of the plot are missing. Forget to resolve a loose end, the BPT will notice. CONS: The BPT may not be the best at looking at the nitpicky details or helping us with our prose.
The Nit-picker: The detail-oriented Nit-picker bring the most sensitive magnifying glass to our WIP. They’ll be likely to question small details within our scenarios, facts, and are likely to supply every missing comma we omitted. PROS: Did we make a mistake about the exact location of St. Maarten in relationship to Anguilla? The Nit-Picker will tell us. Did our MC start the car before she actually got in it? The Nit-Picker will catch it. Did we put a double period at the end of the third paragraph on page 162? You get the picture. CONS: They may miss the larger, over-arching themes and plot. More subtleties may be overlooked by these folks. In other words, they’re so focused on the trees, they forget they’re in the forest.
The Narcissist: The Narcissist is a bane to the developing writer. There are no PROS to speak of. The Narcissist will turn any feedback session into a chance to reassure themselves of
why they’re so great. They’ll talk about plotting tools you’ve never heard of and that nobody uses. Like a Nit-picker, they may zero in on a particular detail of your story, but not to make sure you fix a problem; it will be to highlight your ignorance. You’ll know you’re talking to a Narcissist when you are able to extract very little actionable feedback and find the discussion going on forever, long past the time when you could listen without wanting to stab yourself in the ears with your red marker. Also, you may want to cry.
is more of a critical type or doesn’t support your writing goals, find your “Mom” via some other close personal connection. A dad can be just as great a CP as a mom, or maybe your sibling, second cousin, or BFF from childhood.
Not only are these categories useful as we consider which CPs to ask for feedback from, they’re also good for our own self-analysis. When it’s our turn to give the critique, we can use these to figure out what kind of CP we are and share that with our writer friends so they can determine whether our feedback will be useful to them at that particular time for that particular story.
Thank you for being with me for this third installment of my series on feedback. Next time, I’ll cover my own process for receiving constructive input in a simple, easy-to-follow set of steps you can begin to use immediately. It will keep you from doing unhelpful things like tear your hair out, hide in a dark closet for obscene amounts of time, and, most importantly, it can help you not give up on your writing (that’s what it’s done for me, at least).
Until then, You can do it. You can write!  Welcome back to my It’s a Writer Thing special focus on feedback. Once again, I'm sending a HUGE thank you to Amber Gregg, author and blogger, for hosting my It's a Writer Thing series on her blog, "Judging More than Just the Cover." Check there for book reviews and other great author interviews and articles. The last post in this series covered the givens of receiving input on our writing, and today, I’ll discuss a couple basic types of feedback. 1. Formative feedback. I got the following definition from evaluationtoolbox.net. According to this resource, a formative evaluation is one that “takes place before or during a project's implementation with the aim of improving the project's design and performance.” So, if we insert the word ‘book’ into this definition, formative feedback is any that is given during the initial plotting OR drafting of a book OR during the rewrite phase. It’s collaborative and cooperative. This feedback may be intended to help shape the story itself, to enrich the characterization or emotion, to help the author tell the story in the clearest way, and to remover errors.  When I initially joined critique groups way back in the day, this was the kind of feedback I was given. (Hint, it wasn’t what I needed, though. Not then, not yet. (More on that in a sec.) So, this is where I think it’s useful for us to think about the impact of feedback at each of these three stages of the writing process. Feedback during plotting, for me, is great. Actually, brainstorming with trusted friends is one of my favorite parts of the plotting process (especially with my husband—seriously, he’s like my story steroids, and every time we get into a conversation, regardless of what phase I’m in, I come away with new ideas and energy). I love letting a story live in my brain for several weeks as I let all the moving parts swirl into some kind of pattern. And, since no matter how well we plot, we always come to a stuck point along the way, I find this kind of process helpful during drafting as well. What’s not helpful for me? Critiques of my pages while the first draft is in process. I’ve gone that route in the past, not understanding what impact others’ feedback would have on my story, and let’s say, it totally changed my outcome. Now, this may be totally fine for others, but for me, it doesn’t work. Here’s why. Critique groups or other scenarios where a chapter or two is read at a time, bring a lot of attention to one tiny part of our books. I often got irrelevant suggestions or questions about things that related to plot points later on. And let’s face it, critique groups are meant to help us figure out what we can improve, but when you bring such a huge magnifying glass to a tiny chunk of prose, it’s not uncommon to come away feeling like Cinderella after her stepsisters got their hands on her dress for the ball. This doesn’t mean I don’t take formative feedback on my pages. I just prefer to wait until my entire manuscript is done. That way, my critique partner can see and base any guidance they offer on the whole picture. Now that I know this about myself, I can be deliberate in how, when, and from whom I ask for feedback during plotting and drafting. Each author must figure out what works and doesn’t work for them. This is a highly personal process. 2. Summative feedback. Our friends at evaluationtoolbox.net tell us that a summative evaluation is “the assessment of a project where the focus is on the outcome…” The perfect example of this kind of feedback is a book review. The book is complete and published, and now, readers can tell us what think. Beta readers can also give us this kind of feedback. And I’ll pause here to define this term, because this was yet another one I didn’t know when I was still trying to figure out what the hell was going on in this crazy writing world. Beta readers are people who read our stories when they’re pretty much ready to query (or so we think). We’re ready for betas when we’ve already gotten rounds of feedback from our CPs, done rewrites and edits, fixed the confusing parts, and put as much polish on our stories as we possibly can. Though they may identify some lingering issues or little things to fix, they shouldn’t find anything earth-shattering. If they do, we didn’t do our job well enough in the drafting/rewrite stage. Our betas’ stamp of approval is often the sign that we’re ready to start querying or submitting. The tricky thing about summative feedback is that even after publication, we can look at our work and find things we would still like to change. That’s just par for the course. I’ve heard many authors talk about what they’d like to do if they could get this or that story back. In the end, no story is ever truly finished. So, there we have it, the two official, main kinds of feedback. But, there’s one more type that I want to talk about, and I’ll admit, I made this one up myself.  3. I made this one up: Please just tell me I can write b/c I’m writing and I don’t know if this is really stupid, if I’m any good, and if I should just give up now and I’m kind of scared. Remember when I talked above about the perils of critique groups in the early stages of drafting? I can say, first hand, that as a new writer this feedback was downright harmful. Here’s why. Disclaimer, it’s a little bit complicated. As learners, we need to strike the right balance between self-evaluation, taking influence, and developing our own style (plus, trust in that style). But when you’re new at something, especially if the entire field of study is new to you (like writing was to me), we’re not very good judges about where we’re at, what feedback is valuable, and what feedback isn’t. Finding our authentic voice is a tricky, craggy, vine-grown, hilly path with dangerous creatures lurking in the woods nearby. If we have too much confidence, we won’t let others give us the valuable information we need to improve, but if we have too little, we’ll let people drag us all over that road and off the path, getting us completely lost and then running away with whatever GPS we had when we’d started the journey.  It’s not a surprise that critique groups can do this to us. That’s what they’re for, right? To give critiques. To tell us what we can do better. But at first, especially for people new to writing, we just need supportive cheerleaders who can read our stuff and champion us on to keep going. Someone who can say, “Whoa, you wrote a book! Cool! I think it’s good, so far. I’m sure you can make it better, but keep it up!”
When I walked into my first critique group, this was all I wanted. But I walked out with a million suggestions on my story, many of which I implemented without any consideration at all as to whether this was in service of my voice or my story. To be fair, I didn’t know what my voice was and I had no idea how to evaluate whether the feedback I received served it. Later, I looked back and grieved over my original vision for my first book. It was entirely changed because I assumed that these people knew way more about writing than I did (which, technically, they did), so I must be doing it wrong (but, this wasn’t necessarily the fact). Though I’m very happy with the way my first book turned out, the quirky/humorous/snarky narrator voice I’d wanted for this MG fantasy was edited completely out by people who didn’t get what I was going for and because I didn’t know enough about what I was going for to ignore what wasn’t helpful. To be fair, I still learned a TON from these folks, but this valuable (unintended) lesson was one thing I learned too. For my next post, I’m going to outline the different types of critique partners every good writer needs (yup, there are several types). Until then, You can do it. You can write! What a crazy month. Since I started writing, I've had some of the most exciting days of my life. My first 'yes' from Judith Graves at Leap Books for my submission to their "Beware the Little White Rabbit" anthology. My second 'yes' from Sanitarium Magazine. Two 'yes's' means it's not a fluke right? If so, then the third, from Three World's Press, really cemented the deal. My first book contract ... which is now defunct since the press is closed. But then there was my contract with Leap for my YA Horror Novella (yay!). And Pitch2Publication. What an exciting ride this experience has been so far. Right from the go, it was a whirlwind. The tweets from the editors about their submissions began literally hours after I hit send on my own submission, "Ten Past Closing," a YA thriller. Pretty quickly, I was sure one of my editor choices was passing, but then, just a couple hours later, Rebecca Faith Heyman tweeted something about a submission that sounded a lot like mine. Of course I responded and after a flurry of tweets, I had the partial request in my email inbox. AHHH!!!
Then my Twitter and Facebook accounts exploded--between the P2P folks and my friends who were watching and waiting with me ... let's just say, flu or no flu, I never got that nap.
Then came the month of edits, fun, and new friends. Rebecca's insights into my MS were exactly what I needed to move it in the right direction. I got to know the other P2P authors and they are such an incredible bunch. We supported each other through the stress, self-doubt, and uncertainty, and I can't wait to champion the budding careers of this group of truly wonderful, talented people. A month of furious work, and my submission was ready for today, this moment, when the agent round begins. Samantha Fountain--author, literary agency intern, and the contest's organizer--has managed to recruit a super group of agents to be part of this contest, several of whom I've queried in the past or have on my to-query list for various projects. I can't believe my luck in being selected. I have no idea what will happen this week, but I'll be keeping my fingers crossed that come Friday, my title will once again appear on Twitter in the form of agent requests for more pages.  Once again, I'm excited that "Judging More than Just the Cover," is hosting this month's "It's a Writer Thing" post. Amber Gregg's blog is a rich and informative resource for writers, plus a lot of fun!  Anyone notice all those pitch contests taking over Twitter lately (”Pitch Madness”, “Pitch to Publication,” etc.)? They’re hard to miss, and who would want to miss them? They serve as awesome opportunities for authors to advance their careers, plus they’re super fun. In contests like these, little hints of feedback are tweeted as the agent or editor reads the submissions, and these little hints can be very helpful. Plenty of authors stalk the #pitchmadness, #p2p16, and #tenqueries feeds for gems that can enhance their work. And now that I’m in the “Pitch to Publication” contest, feedback is on my mind more than ever. Receiving feedback is an essential part of being a writer, but it’s not necessarily the easiest or the most intuitive thing to learn. How did this inspire today’s blog post? There are way too many things that can knock a writer off the path. The only way to succeed is to keep going, to practice our skills, to put ourselves out there, and feedback has the power to usher us along or to put an avalanche in our road. In the hopes this will be helpful for other writers, whether newbies like me or long-time veterans, today’s article is the first It’s a Writer Thing post in a series that I hope will be a sort-of primer for receiving feedback, to help others get the most of out of it and to hopefully avoid the unintended pitfalls. First, a little background on me. I wasn’t a literature/writing major in college. I jumped into this writing stuff just because I had a pull to do it. In other words, I started off with absolutely no idea what I was doing. I’ve been writing for five years, but I still have to ask friends what stuff means and without Google I’d be lost. The reason I share this is because for new writers, especially folks like me who are brand new to the entire scene, receiving feedback in those early days can feel very much like trial by fire. I, personally, wasn’t ready for the kind of feedback I got at first. The problem was, I had no idea what kind of feedback I wanted or needed. It took time and reflection to understand what I was looking for back then. Unfortunately, what I was looking for and what I got didn’t match up. At all. Let’s start with the givens. Remember geometry class (I know you don’t want to, but it won’t be too bad, I promise)? The teacher started off each problem with some givens, the rules you could use to structure you efforts and eventually arrive at your desired solution. So, for today’s post, I’d like to focus on the givens of receiving feedback. 1. We asked for this. Getting feedback on our manuscript can be a little bit like picking one of those ‘chance’ cards in Monopoly. We think it will be something really good—maybe a couple extra hundred bucks or a get out of jail free—but, instead, we’re forced to pay back taxes. So, the first step in receiving feedback is simply self-preparation. In other words, we asked for it, so get ready because here it comes. If we know ahead of time that it will be a mixed bag, it’s a little easier to bear. Not a lot easier, but a little.
3. We’ll be happy later.
Though it’s not true that all critiques are worth implementing (more on that later), many are. Plenty of examples have been shared out there on the internet, and there’s not a single one where the author said: “Yeah, my CP came up with some important points that made my book way better, but you know, I really regret making those changes now. Dang him.” Facing and implementing feedback is a goal like any other, just part of prepping an MS; any time we reach a goal, we need to give ourselves a little pat on the back for growth we’ve accomplished. Same with facing those edits that just showed up in our inbox. In upcoming posts in this series, I’ll discuss types of feedback, the many faces of critique partners, my basic process of dealing with feedback, and some tips for evaluating the merit of the input you’ve been given. Until then, You can do it. You can write! |
Jessica Bayliss Blogs about reading, writing, & other fun stuff
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