National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) has ended, and there are a lot of people out there with finished first drafts of books.
First off, congratulations! Writing is a long, arduous process, and finishing the first draft is an important first step. But now you might be wondering, what do I do next?
Unfortunately, it’s time for the scariest thing imaginable: showing your work to other people.
During the last stream, we did the final segment in a three-part series about what to do once you’ve finished the first draft of your book: “So You’ve Written A Book… Now What?”
This time we concentrated on the most horrifying part of writing: getting feedback.
Watch the video here to see the exercise in action,
or scroll down to see the main points.
Getting feedback on your writing from other people is nerve-wracking. Follow these steps to ensure that you have the most positive experience possible and get the most out of it:
- Be silent while listening to feedback. Use this time to consider what the other person is saying, not to defend yourself.
- Only speak if they ask questions. Wait until the end for questions of your own.
- Don’t ask passive-aggressive questions like: “Well did you understand that the lizard was supposed to be a metaphor for death?” or “Isn’t it obvious what a giant macaroni spider looks like?”
- Thank the person who gave you feedback.
- Go home and curl into a ball of depression for 1 to 2 days.
- Look back over the feedback they gave you with new, fresh eyes.
- At least 90% of their feedback is absolutely correct, so use it. Some of it will be easy changes, some if it will be hard, and some of it may require you to throw away everything and start over. That’s perfectly normal.
- For feedback you’re conflicted on, repeat the process with several other people.
– If only ONE person has an issue with something, then you may not have to change it. (But still try the change anyway and see what it looks like!)
– If more than one person mentions the same thing, then DEFINITELY change it.
– (The only exception is if at least one other person LOVES it.)
If you haven’t checked out the video, then definitely take a look! You can see us take the above steps with the opening to our story, get feedback from chat, and then go through some common lines of thinking that newer authors have. Not to mention I go on a few crazed rants involving albatrosses!
After that, it was subscriber’s choice for the prompt, and JebusDota picked that we write a prompt based on this song: Jingle Bells (Dark Piano Version).
Here’s what we came up with, titled “The Workshop.”
My elf feet left behind thin streaks of blood as I ran through the dark halls of Santa’s workshop, panting for breath. I’d had to cut the jingling bells that grew off my toes to not alert anyone to my escape. If I could finally get out of this hell, then it would be worth it.
I’d spent the past years of my imprisonment memorizing all the security features of the workshop. I hugged the shadowy wall, careful to avoid the sleeping gaze of the plastic Christmas trees—all it would take is one movement in their laser sights to set them off screaming Jingle Bells and alert the big man of my insubordination.
My teeth clenched in pain from my bleeding feet as I made every carefully-planned movement. Not only did I have to chop off the flesh-bells to stop their clattering, but I needed to somehow escape the tinsel chains that bound me to my elf-group. Fortunately it had only taken two painful snips of the glitter-scissors to free me. The blood itself was enough lubricant to slide my feet out. I’d had a backup plans to crawl away with stubs for legs, but I wasn’t looking forward to taking that leap.
Finally away from the hall of trees, I approached my final obstacle: the metal doors leading to the outside… and freedom. It was locked at all times with a glowing red-and-green keypad next to it; only the big man knew the code to get out. But I wasn’t called “Sam the Sneakiest Elf” for nothing. I’d been here five years, and I put that time to good use. The big man was powerful but not perfect. When my tinsel-group was carrying some boxes of candy canes, I spotted him putting in the code, and I burned it into my mind from them on. Now I stood on my trembling toes and reached up high with a shaking finger to put in the code myself.
1-2-2-5. December 25th. I should’ve known an old man would have such a stupid password.
The console flashed and sang Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer in a short little tune. My heart turned to ice hearing it echo down the empty hallway, but as soon as the metal doors opened and the cold snowy air blew in from outside, I felt warmer than I had in forever. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Now I just hoped that Dasher and Donner would play their part. I’d fed them extra carrots during my tinsel-group’s feeding duty, all in preparation for this moment. I opened my eyes, ready to see my getaway sleigh.
But all I saw was Santa, standing there, smiling at me.
“Ho ho ho, there, Sam!” he chuckled, his massive white beard and red-clothed belly jiggling with joy. “Aren’t you a little cold out here in your bare feet?”
I stood frozen in place, unable to move, staring wide-eyed at the behemoth of a man towering over me.
“How… how did you know?” I gasped. “I… I did everything right!”
“Of course you did, Sam,” Santa said, leaning in closer to my face. His bright red nose was radiating heat onto my forehead. “But you forgot the most important security system of all. Remember? I can see you when you’re sleeping. I know when you’re awake. I’ve been watching you this whole time, Sam. And I have to say, I’m disappointed.”
When I’d worked five backbreaking years in this shop, I’d never cried once. When I cut off my bell-flesh, I didn’t cry. Yet now, staring at Santa’s loving grin, tears spilled out of my eyes.
“I just… I just want to go home,” I sobbed.
Santa reached out with a fluffy gloved hand and patted me on the head.
“Sorry, Sam. But ever since I stopped giving out coal to you naughty kids—don’t want to encourage more bad behavior with global warming!—I had to come up with a new way to punish. This is your home now, Sneaky Sam.”
I stood in the snow, shaking. “But… but Santa…”
“Come now,” he said, patting me on the back. “Let’s go inside and get Mrs. Claus to sew those bells back on your feet.”
(Now listen to the song again with that final image in your mind.)
If you want to join us and help write a story by trolling in chat, or share your own writing for feedback, then we’d love to have you. We stream on Twitch every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday at 7:30pm-10:30pm (U.S. Eastern Standard Time).
And you missed the stream, you can still watch them on the YouTube channel or watch the full stream reruns.
Hope to see you next time, friend!
Scott Wilson is the author of the novel Metl: The ANGEL Weapon,
forthcoming March 2019.
Featured image: Pakutaso