Today’s Lunch Special

Last night at the peer group critique event, the moderator gave us these guidelines for giving feedback to authors.

He called it “the sandwich”:

You start with the bread–say what you liked about the work. Keep it positive. Springy and moist, not too chewy. Then comes the meat–talk about what’s not working. But please be sure to identify the problem first and then make suggestions, if you have any. Then close with another slice of yummy bread–remind the author of what you liked, etc.

At lunchtime today I had a 30 minute manuscript critique with an editor. I was excited, nervous, interested to see what she would say. Back in May I had submitted a 1000-word picture book manuscript. This is a story that I’ve been working on for over a year. It has been read by three different trusted readers, and it’s been revised several times.

After a brief how-do-you-do?-who-are-you? she served up a hefty lunch.

And it was no sandwich. Just a big old meat platter.

I’m talking MEAT: fatty, gristle-streaked steak; carnitas hold the tortillas; salami, mortadella and a big slab of liverwurst. And don’t forget the side of beef.

Good Lord, I used to be a vegetarian and this was a lot of meat for me chew.

Hyperbole and metaphor aside, she really didn’t like the story. Probably the hardest thing for me to hear was that she found aspects of it and specific lines “disturbing.” Other words that came up were “convoluted,” “confusing,” and “challenging.” I suspect “challenging” was just a euphemism for “awful” and she was feeling like maybe I needed a condiment with my meat platter. A little ketchup?

She did think that the end is working, and I believe her. But the beginning, the middle, one of the characters, and the entire premise need to be axed.

Here’s the thing. I didn’t want to be served this meat. It was hard to swallow (sorry). But in the midst of my repulsion and horror I saw that she was right.

The editor had served up honest meat.

So I packed up my pride, stuffed my ego in my pocket where it could sniffle, and took a large doggie bag up to my hotel room. And hours later I think I’ve digested most of it. I think the story I wanted to do is not a children’s picture book after all. And the story the editor suggested this become is not really what I want to write either. At least not now. And that’s OK. I’ve got plenty of other stories to work on.

Stories that are not in any way disturbing.

All right, so that’s one last morsel I’m still chewing on.

The critique was hard to hear but useful. Who knows? Maybe it will turn out to be pivotal.

Even so, I’m hoping that tomorrow’s luncheon provides lighter fare. Like a tossed salad sprinkled with antacid tablets. No meat, no bread.

Sounds delicious.