The number one rule for critiques is derived from one you may have heard before: Critique as you would be critiqued. You wouldn’t want people telling you your story is no damn good, so don’t do it to other people, no matter what.

The first thing to say about a piece is what you liked about it–the idea, a character, the plot, a glittering piece of writing, whatever. Find something you liked, and mention it.

Don’t say only “I liked it!” or “It’s beautiful!” Figure out what made it good or bad, if you can, and talk about that.

Tell the writer whether you liked the story as a whole or not. Did it move you? Make you laugh? Make you cry? Leave you cold? Overall, what stood out, good or bad? Whether you liked the story or not, what could be done to improve it?

Talk about the writing style. Was the style too flowery, or too pedestrian? Too cute? Were the sentences overlong, or too short? Were they all similar, so they became monotonous?

What about the structure? Do the parts of the story follow in the right order? Did you learn something way down that you should have known sooner? Does the story go at breakneck speed, leaving you breathless? Or is it just too slow? Was the piece overwritten–that is, should it be cut? Where? What’s not necessary? What actually detracts? Was it too short? Did you need more information about something?

How did the characters strike you? Did you like the hero, hate the villain? How about nuances? Did the characters seem alive? How could the writer have made you feel more deeply with the characters?

Does the setting seem real? Can you feel the place? Settings matter.

You can do a line-by-line critique if you want; you don’t have to, but it’s good to show examples of things you think need to be improved.

A good critique takes time and thought. Remember, that’s what you want your stories to get–give it to those of others.

When someone critiques one of your pieces, say thank you nicely, even if you think the critique was stupid–you’ve at least learned how stupid people will view it. Take the good suggestions, and ignore the not so good. If nobody likes it, it needs work. If half love the piece and half hate it, that’s fine, for tastes differ. Don’t feel bad if there’s plenty
wrong with it; nothing’s perfect, and you can make it better. If a critique hurts, that’s okay; you’ll survive. Nobody has a thick skin, even those who say they do.

Want to learn more? Carter Jefferson’s wisdom is accessible at his website. He lives in Boston and has been a reporter and copy editor on a metropolitan daily, a Navy officer, a professor of history, and a family therapist. He started writing professionally when he was 15 on a local ethnic newspaper, and has never stopped. Officially retired, he now writes fiction, memoirs, and essays for e-zines, and teaches creative writing to the senior set at U.Mass./Boston.

So check out his work, and then you’ll be … beyond the elements of style!

Here are two photographs, very different from each other, but both evoke—in me, at least—an emotional response. Take a few minutes to look at them, and then consider using one or both as a writing prompt. You can find inspiration in the oddest places!

See what happens, and then you’ll be … beyond the elements of style!

Two of the genres that I write are historical fiction and mystery fiction. And next month I plan to inaugurate monthly newsletters for both genres: It’s a Mystery To Me for mystery readers, and Encounters in History for readers of historical fiction. There will be some promotion of my titles in each genre, of course; but the newsletters will also include other information, including book reviews, links, articles, and more.

So send me an email and let me know which one you’d like to receive! I promise you’ll only hear from me once a month, and you can unsubscribe at any time.

Give it a try, and then you’ll be … beyond the elements of style!

When you have a beginning, you’re on you your way—whether you outline or work by the headlights (only knowing what’s just ahead)—you’ve started the journey. And on that journey, to get from your beginning, rife with possibility and excitement, to your ending, a
surprising yet inevitable conclusion that fulfills the hopes of your readers, you must traverse the middle (or as some of us refer to it, the muddle in the middle).

Your beginning sets up the story.

Your ending pays it off.

Your middle has to do everything else:

• show progress in character arcs so we can see the protagonist has changed (or had the opportunity to change and refused to) over the course of the story
• show characters trying and failing to solve the story problem—or succeeding and making things worse
• show things that may be genre specific — for example, the detective talking to witnesses and looking for clues in a mystery

In short,

• show all of the information we need to find the ending believable—whether it’s two people falling in love, a murderer being brought to justice, or an agent foiling a plot to topple the leaders of Europe.

The middle is also where we see subplots arise and possibly be resolved—subplots that may reflect the theme of the book, the emotional arc of the main character, or a different aspect of the character’s journey. Subplots can also look at ideas from a different angle, coming to a different conclusion from the main plot. For example, if the hero needs to overcome his pride in order to reach his goal, we could see his brother-in-law giving in to his pride at a crucial moment, which makes his daughter run away from home (thus leading to a related but different subplot).

The middle is the part where you take everything that was set up in the beginning and complicate it. This is the part where, if the hero’s car broke down in a safari park, the animals try to get into the car, the hero gets out and runs—only to discover there’s a cliff in front of him, the lions are behind him, and if he manages to make it down the cliff, there’s a river full of crocodiles and hippos. He makes for the hippos, only to discover they’re even more mean tempered than the crocodiles—and so on. Every attempt at a solution makes things worse and complicates life in some fashion because if it doesn’t if the reader ever feels that the protagonist is at peace with nothing else to work toward, your book gets closed and never re-opened.

I really struggle with the middle of a book, making sure I’ve got enough story in there. I outline before writing, and yet I still wind up stuck somewhere, knowing I don’t have enough going on to justify calling something a novel (or novella, depending). I know the book needs more to entice readers. Or although the plot makes sense, it doesn’t fit with the way the characters and world have fleshed out in the writing, and I need to come up with an alternate next step. So what do I do?

1. Ask what the worst thing that can happen is. Even if that’s not the way I was planning to take the plot, it can really strengthen the story as the characters have to cope with something deeper. And sometimes, the worst that can happen isn’t something bad now — letting the hero and heroine deepen their relationship and trust in each other makes the inevitable Black Moment when it seems all is lost that much stronger.
2. Look at the three characters closest to the protagonist and ask how I can complicate their lives. Not only can their subplots add resonance to the novel by reflecting themes and motifs, but complications here can also affect the protagonist. When a trusted companion isn’t available, where will the protagonist turn for support or help?
3. Look for patterns in the story so far. We’re coded to recognize patterns, and from very early on, we’re taught that things happen in threes. Has something happened twice that can happen again, perhaps with a different outcome? Or has something happened that was a single minor occurrence that could have added significance by repeating it?
4. Do some free writing. I sit down with pen and paper and just start writing about what’s going on in the story, where I’m stuck, what’s the next thing that I know I want to have happen, what’s stopping me from getting there. Unlike the previous tactics, I’m not looking for a specific type of solution; I’m just hoping for inspiration of some sort. It often works, and it gives me an angle that I might not have come up with by following a defined path.
5. Add in something unexpected. Create a new walk-on character, throw in an unrelated complication (“This just in: tonight’s meteor shower is expected to result in minor property damage in the Tri-State Area.”), or include a trope from a different genre (This one works best when used early in the planning process).
6. Review the beginning. Are there any promises or hints of things to come, story questions asked but not answered, threads that have not been followed up on?
7. Look at the ending. Maybe even write up a short draft of the climax scene. What needs to be in place for this scene to play out? How can I set that up ahead of time?

If all else fails, I go work on something else for a while to give my brain a rest, then come back, hoping to come at the middle from a different angle, refreshed and able to see what I was missing before.

When all is said and done, there’s a feeling of excitement to knowing that I’m setting things up that are going to pay off down the line, and when I’m about to write the climax scene and all of that work is about to come to fruition, I know I’ve survived another middle.

Erin M. Hartshorn is a desert rat (native Nevadan) transplanted to a humid climate. Her ideal home has bookcases in every room. She is a moderator at Forward Motion for Writers, an on-ine writers community. Her fiction has appeared both online and in print in various places, placed in the PARSEC short story contest, earned honorable mentions in the Writers of the Future contest, and been short-listed for the UPC Award. When she’s not writing, she enjoys various handicrafts, though she prefers spending time with her family. She blogs online at www.erinmhartshorn.com/blog and can be found on Twitter @ErinMHartshorn.

Okay, sarcasm aside, getting started on writing can be difficult. A lot of people who could probably turn out effective and even brilliant work don’t — because they don’t know how to get started.

However, I’m here to tell you that the famous terror of the blank page (or computer screen!) doesn’t need to overcome your creativity. Here are some tips for getting started that will awaken your muse … and put the pen in her hand!

1. Your first mistake is starting with the blank page/screen. Any project takes planning, and writing a novel is no exception. So accept that you have to do some reasonably heavy lifting before you even get to the pivotal scene that’s been playing in your head.
2. That said, start by choosing your tools. Don’t worry: pen and paper are completely acceptable. However, if you’d like to make your life a little easier, I can wholeheartedly recommend using Scrivener (no, I have nothing to do with Literature and Latte, I’m just a very satisfied Scrivener user). Go to the site and take a tour and if you’re not convinced that this will help you with every writing project you’ll ever undertake, I’ll be surprised.
3. Okay, now that you have your tools lined up, use them. One of the reasons I recommend Scrivener is that it gives you access to spaces where you can jot down your ideas (I use the corkboard feature for this). If you don’t already have ideas for your novel, then perhaps you should wait until some come to you; otherwise, this is the time for random thoughts about it. They could be anything from the color of the protagonist’s eyes to the final exciting scene to that one point that you think someone should make.
4. Next, create a character file. Note that I didn’t say “list,” though you may wish to do that as well. I want you to go deeper: create a filecard (either real or virtual) for each character, and spend time with them. What’s the character’s backstory? What did he want to be when he grew up? What was Mom like? Where did your character go to school, and what was that like for her? What are his favorite foods? What’s her defining quotation? What is the character’s quest, both in life and in the context of your story? How do other people feel about your character? What’s his most endearing/annoying trait? Religious beliefs? Memberships? Relationships? As you see, the list is only limited by your imagination. Why are you doing this? Because while people are often inconsistent in their thoughts and behavior, it’s up to you as their creator to make sure that these inconsistencies are neither sloppy nor haphazard. You need to know your characters inside out. Even if you don’t use a lot of this information, you need to have it.
5. The next most important thing to consider is your timeline. I cannot count the instances of timeline mistakes I’ve made (thank goodness for editors!), because, quite simply, we forget. Was Elizabeth born in July or September? Is she older or younger than her brother Joe? Did the life-changing accident happen when she was twenty or twenty-five? Could she have listened to Rhianna in her car when it happened, or was that before Rhianna became popular? All these and more are waiting to trip you up, so make it easy on yourself and note it all down.
6. Let’s talk geography. Back in the dark ages before the internet I wrote a novel in which a character strolled on the beach … at San Jose, California, which is an inland city. Oopsie. Never make that mistake again … but geography can trip you up. Use maps! They’re wonderful, and you can make them into pdfs and insert them into Scrivener for later perusal.
7. Finally, have an idea of the plot. Just a vague idea really is fine … you may find, as I do, that your characters take a strong hand in changing it. That’s fine. But have an idea where you’re setting out for before you set out, and it will raise your confidence level substantially!

So there you go. Follow these steps and you’ll find that the blank page isn’t quite so terrifying. Do you have tips for getting started? Share them here, and you’ll be … beyond the elements of style!