Michelle L. Smith

The member forum section of a writers community to which I belong recently discussed the use of sensitivity readers (SR), engendering lively debate about whether or not such scrutiny stifles creativity.

But what exactly is a sensitivity reader? According to N. K. Jemisin of masterclass.com, "A sensitivity reader is not a copy editor. Their job is not to check for grammar or fact-check but to find issues with misrepresentation and other inaccuracies….At the conclusion of their sensitivity review, do not expect them to provide comments about grammatical or spelling issues but instead to comment about the characters and their interactions."

Generally speaking, SR is a form of beta reading that potentially uncovers problematic areas with offensive or ill-informed misrepresentations such as stereotypes and tropes. To a limited extent, SR can constrain free expression; however, the process is similar to other conventional forms of editing. If SR sounds like censorship to you, many would agree.

Some writers who've utilized SR report greater insight into communities with which they weren't familiar such as the mentally ill or physically disabled. However, the more provocative discussion in the above-mentioned forum focused on racial and cultural sensitivity. It was quite telling to see folks go through all sorts of mental gymnastics to define SR as censorship, specifically with regard to different races or cultures and not so much other communities, leaving me to wonder if their "debate" over SR represents a reluctance to address preconceived notions about people who don't look, eat, dress, love, speak, or worship like them.

On the one hand, writers are free to write what they want, but they may not enjoy a large audience if their work panders to distasteful stereotypes. And there's no law requiring a private publishing company, which is in the business of making money, to represent or give platform to an author's exceedingly ignorant take on someone else's culture; however, that author has the right to shop their material in venues indifferent to accurate representation.

While I don't have extensive knowledge about all cultures, it's not difficult to avoid insulting people. If I happen to stick my foot in my mouth, I take stock of my error to ensure that I don't become a repeat offender. For those who feel they "can't say anything without being canceled," why is it difficult to understand what is and isn't offensive to large groups of people? If a collection of like-minded folks finds your generalizations about them objectionable, why not accept them at face value? Sure, exceptions exist for just about everything, but what are the odds an entire community is being dishonest?

If you feel like you must walk on eggs to avoid upsetting folks, perhaps you need to ask yourself what renders you susceptible to doing so? Then seize the teachable moment and educate yourself about those often deemed "the other." In doing so, you just might learn we've got more in common than you think!

I recently started another revision of my novel, Hide and Seek, a magical realism story about a 12-year-old girl with a special gift that she must properly embrace if she is to help her deceased brother cross over to "the other side." Though the intended audience is adults, I have attempted to write it from the perspective of a 12-year-old narrator. I've been advised by experts in the publishing industry that such an endeavor would be hard to pull off. Indeed, it's been difficult to find other stories written this way. The few that I did find tend to take liberty with the child's capacity for an advanced vocabulary, which did not bother me so much. However, I recognized the same in my own work and had made several notations about correcting the language in a future revision—admittedly, a daunting task.

Well, this go-around, after being satisfied that I'd composed the storyline I wanted, I began another revision. At the second chapter in, something "clicked," and I realized that the mature vocabulary of an adult gives me more freedom of voice. So, I changed the narrator to that of a young adult looking back.

The timing of this epiphany was perfect, as I'd contemplated submitting the first 15 pages of my novel to a couple of fellowship-type programs designed to guide writers through a professional revision process. I immediately went back to my opening chapter and made appropriate changes. My deadlines are in a couple of days, so I've been devoting most of my writing time to the novel revision.

As the saying goes, "Timing is everything."

It seems appropriate to talk about new beginnings given that we've not only started a new year, we've just entered a new decade. It's also timely since I'm reworking the opening chapters of my novel, Hide and Seek.

It's my understanding that one should avoid detailed revisions when developing the storyline and subplots. I find that's easier said than done. This go around, instead of plowing through the entire novel again, during which time I tend to lose focus, I'm limiting my revisions to the first story arc (approx. first 80 pages) before moving on. (I blogged about the four arc system in my Nov 15 post.)

I'm refocusing my rewrite this way, because I keep changing the novel's ending, which means I have to revise earlier chapters to make them fit that new ending. It's a laborious process, and I'm kind of tired of doing it this way.

By revising the first arc before progressing through the rest of the novel, I think it'll be an easier and more rewarding process to then structure the remaining sequences (last three arcs) on the first one. This process may be a rule-bender, but I like Pablo Picasso's advice: "Learn the rules like a pro, so you can break them like an artist."

That's my new writing goal for the New Year--to improve my focus by implementing a building block method. I'm not only looking forward to new beginnings, I'm also looking forward to a more satisfying ending to my novel.

Happy Writing, and Happy New Decade! 

I'd hoped to finish the current rewrite of my novel by the end of the year, but that didn't happen. It wasn't for a lack of trying, however. I attended a course or two on novel revision and mechanics that I found quite inspirational. I even took time off to enter a couple of writing contests. That inspiration kept me energized enough to continue plowing through my novel, which I've been working on for several years.

The writing courses revealed major flaws, but I've been excited to implement new tools to correct those flaws. When I look back on the length of this project, however, I find myself a bit disheartened, leading me to ponder whether a novel-size project is too big for someone like me--someone who learned not that long ago that those pesky issues with lack of focus, words jumping off and around the page, difficulty with reading comprehension, etc. are likely symptoms of dyslexia. Several online tests indicated at least moderate dyslexia.

I write nearly every day despite the fact that I transpose letters of the alphabet with reglular frequency, a phenonmenon that accelerates with fatigue. Sometimes I get so frustrated, I literally shout at myself (I'll leave the epithets to your imagination). To improve my writing, I've started reading more, even though it's been a difficult endeavor for as long as I can remember. If I stay with a novel, or even a sample chapter on my e-reader, I learn a lot about the craft, which pays homage to the adage I've heard time and again from other writers: read, write, read, write, and then read and write some more.

One thing I've never been is a quitter. I truly enjoy writing, and I look forward to reading more and writing more in the coming days and months. So here's a toast to all those non quitters who also plan to make the best of 2020: Happy New Year to all, and may the Muse be with you!

As a writer, I find the process of critiquing one's work similar to that of an artist who steps away from his canvas and revisits it later with "fresh eyes." Only, in the case of writing, the fresh eyes often belong to someone other than the artist. That's not to say that the author shouldn't critique her own work. I just find it difficult to do so without setting it aside for at least a week or two. Even then, I don't trust myself to recognize all the deficiencies. Having a total stranger (in the form of a fellow writer) review my work can provide invaluable feedback about problems I didn't even know existed.

What I've wrestled with, though, is sorting through which critical feedback is useful and which is not. For example, I follwed a suggestion to change my novel's point of view and found that doing so helped me resolve an issue I'd been struggling with. I was also told that my prologue did not fit, so I removed it. Later, in a different critique group, the suggestion was made to add a prologue.

I'm more of a "do as you're told" person, but I've come to understand that there's a delicate dance to be performed in creating a piece of fiction. Studying the craft of novel writing is invaluable. On the other hand, the creative process must be my own.

Recently, I've had other authors tell me that I may want to break away from critique groups as they can stifle the writing process. I'm interested in learning how others grapple with incorporating critical feedback into their writing.

How much does one "play by the rules," and when does one "throw caution to the wind?" Read More