I’d love your feedback! Kind of…
A couple of weeks ago I wrote about an essay I was writing. After quite a bit of cussing and whining (and that was before the marathon), I finished a 2000-word piece I want to sell to a major women’s magazine.
With the exception of the magazine editor who rejected it so far, no one has read it. I would dearly love objective feedback on the piece so I can firm it up and make it super-duper for publication.
Would you take a look? Great! Please choose your feedback from the following list of approved responses:
- Beth, oh, honey, I was so touched by your experience.
- Beth, this is perfect. I can’t think of a thing you need to fix.
- Beth, this is about the strongest essay I’ve read in my life.
Here’s my problem… I’m so connected to this piece and it’s so personal that I can’t bear to share it for a critique. What if you tell me it doesn’t make sense? What if you think it’s long and rambling? Short and confusing? Annoying and self-serving? I want to approach a couple of my profs from journalism school to ask them to help me shape it up, but I’m petrified of what I’m going to hear.
This, of course, is ridiculous. I make my living helping businesses polish their initial ideas and first drafts into strong copy they can be proud of. I know first hand how important an objective review can be. More often than not, I’m the one who walks around with a red pen on a project, suggesting, “Gosh, this is good. And if we rearrange this, it’ll be better!” I know I’ve unintentionally hurt feelings when I come in and completely overhaul a piece that an in-house staffer poured sweat and tears into. I work very, very hard to be respectful and gentle, but I remind people that the better a piece is written, the more effective it’ll be.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I can say that to others, but I sure as heck don’t want to hear it. This is one of the reasons I hesitate about writing a personal book. When I write things that are this honest, it’s painful enough already. I can’t possibly imagine someone plowing through it to find mistakes, missteps and disorganization.
Err. That being said… I know it has to be done. Dear readers, may I call upon you for an honest critique? I’m going to buy some big girl panties from Victoria’s Secret, so I’m ready to hear the truth. Just drop me a note if you’re interested. No, really.
Little Miss on 03 Jul 2009 at 6:17 am #
You KNOW I would love to give you objective feedback. That’s what I do – I’m more editor than writer.
Ingrid on 03 Jul 2009 at 7:17 am #
Hey, I’m in. I’m no editor, but I know what I like to read.
You know you’ll get an honest opinion from me. I’ll be your casual reader.
Pete on 03 Jul 2009 at 8:41 am #
I’d be happy to give it a whirl. Where might I find this document?
Roy Moses on 06 Jul 2009 at 7:55 pm #
OK, I’ve still got some red pens in my pen holders (including one laser-etched wooden holder inscribed with the H.G. Wells quote: No passion in the world is equal to the passion to alter someone else’s draft).
I think you know I give assessments as honestly as I can, barring extenuating circumstances. Wot say? roy
Deb Williams on 08 Jul 2009 at 4:40 pm #
Hey Beth, I’m little Sara’s mom back in Iowa, shirt-tail friend to Rausa’s around the globe through my baby girl biker. I’m a writer. Would love to read the piece and since we don’t know one another……..totally objective. Howzat??
I’m working in Jersey this weekend, would love to give it a read when I return to my unassuming life on the prairie. Shoot me an email or link if you’d like. Love reading other peoples work. Best, Deb in Iowa and ps…congrats on the marathon!! Very cool.