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FEEDBACK 101 (published in The Writers' Circle of Durham Region's Word Weaver, January 2004)

Picture this -- the Humber School for Writers Summer Program at the Lakeshore Campus. In Cottage 'J', as renovated psychiatric hospital dormitory, a submission is being discussed. The group gather has finished commenting.

"I can't even comment," says the mentor, hands flung into the air.

I smile. Remember to breathe. Quiet that voice in my head that's tabulating what this is costing in planning and dollars and cents. Faced with the ulitmate test of my recently acquired critiquing skills, I pray.

This professional's tongue was held for fear of an ungracious reaction to critisicm. Critiquing is an art to be learned and exercised. Whether one on one or in a group, the process starts with respectful listening or reading and should end with what Ruth Walker, an editor of lichen literary magazine, calls "a professional response." The giver needs to focus on the work, not the writer. It's essential to listen in an open-minded manner. To share tangible details that resonate from the work, the nuances that breathe life into the piece. To impart its merits, especially if the material is still raw and unrefined. This may help the writer "edit their piece with a direction in mind," explains Aprille Janes, writer and teacher. Or, be encouraged by "it's terrific and that really keeps you going!"

"Feedback comes in many forms," says Ruth," a simple comment from an editor is enough to inspire me to rewrite a whole piece. The same comment from a family member may stop me cold." Lucky is the writer like Richard Scrimger, whose wife is his trusted first reader. She's a "huge fan and an honest critic." Writer Alan Cumyn explains that those close to him are "good general readers" of early drafts, because they give him a sense of whether a manuscript is "working on a basic level." Most writers would agree with freelance writer and instructor, Dorothea Helms' philosophy" "Friends and family may say you've produced the best thing ever written and it's not, or that it's the worst thing ever written, and it's not!"

Feedback like that come from "emotions rather than logic," explains Tina Ivany, writer. She covets input from other writers, because they know "what to listen for and can pinpoint obvious flaws." Aprille comments that other writers' insights into perspective, continuity, grammar, etc., can be "invaluable with the final polish" a piece needs before submission. Kevin Craig, writer and WCDR board member, shares that his "best constructive criticism" came in the form of a rejection letter. "They went out of their way to not only tell me what worked with my piece, but also what did not work." This form of feed back should be delivered with honesty and consideration.

Dorothea says that "the advice may often be conflicting" making things rougher rather than smoother. But, she believes " that accepting editing and critiquing is a sign of a professional writer." Receiving criticism has responsibilities too. The receiver should listen. As Aprille points out, "If four out of five fellow writer tell you there's a problem, then it bears consideration." Richard Grove, Canadian Poetry Association president, finds workshopping material in a classroom environment and taking notes most useful. "I always change my poem for the better," he explains. Writer and teacher, Sue Reynolds, explains that she gets the most from the circles that review in manuscript form. She suggests that "reading...in their own voices, in their own head...uncoloured by [her] interpretation and inflection...makes a huge difference." And Ruth fins she gains "a richer understanding of [her] work" each time which has "helped her become a better writer." The receiver should always acknowledge the gift with a thank you -- heartfelt or not.

If you don't have that perfect reader living in you hip pocket (or your house!) then writers' circles may be the answer. Even a writer such as Nancy Rogers whoh relies heavily on "the people she works for" (i.e. editors), finds circles "invaluable...to get the truth." Groups on the WCDR website (www.wcdr.org) can be what Tina calls a "lifeline." some deal with on-the-spot writing and other help polish work-in-progress. some groups are large and well established. Others are small and relatively informal. Listings of Toronto groups can be found in WORD. Associations such as the Canadian Authors, Canadian Poetry, Playwriters Guild or Children's Writers, Illustrators adn Performers are rich sources for peer review.

In the end, it's up to the writer whether to apply the feedback or not. "Sometimes you have to trust in your voice, characters and subject matter," says Dorothea, "being open it it, however, is a great attitude to have."

And, at Humber College as I nodded and initiated a discussion around the work, I watched the tension ease and I was grateful for my solid training. I could relax into a new learning experience, experiment and not regret the cost.

CREATIVE GARDENING (published in the WCDR's Word Weaver, March 2004)

How many times have we heard someone say -- "Oh, you're so creative -- I could never do that"? It is easy to recognize and admire the creativity that we see in other. Therir accomplishments shine magnificently at harvest time.

In a community such as ours, we applaud each other because we understand the diligence necessary to nurture a crop to fruition. As writers, we water our work with time and effort then let it bask in the light of supportive feedback or strong editing. We are all familiar with the tools that strengthen us and our material. But, cretivity only produces vibrant results when we devote some attention to the 'seed'. With the right seeds for our soil conditions, climate and crop selection, we can all have 'green thumbs'. In order to dig deeper however, we need to achieve what Heidegger called "forgetfulness of being." Making a habit of free writing will produce buckets of such kernels. The idea is to put anything on paper on a regular basis. That's what Janet Burroway cites as the literary equivalent to practicing scales on the piano. She sees writing as "mind-farming."

Some other focused exercise examples are: Flow-charting - the first word flows to successive words down the page without the writer pausing to think or edit. Clustering - one central subject-word spawning new words around itself, in turn spawning more to form a cluster. Mind-mapping - a central word branching out into related ideas which branch further to create a web. These tools can be potent. Poet Carolyn Forche developed a random-word method using parallel lists (one of nouns, one of modifiers) which are then teamed into the most unlikely combinations to form creative nuggets. Novelist Lee Smith advises choosing which acre of "stalking ground" to let you machinery plow up. It could be a "seedlist" of costly experienes or real-life incongruities; striking connections or stunning revelations; vivid memories or burning injustices that hold great potential.

Some of us thrive with the interaction of fellow enthusiasts, talk of seeding and weeding or the advice of a master gardener. Our germination might be more effective in a larger community. Pat Schneider suggests that your greatest guidance may come from someone other than a teacher that can inpsire, challenge and encourage you to grow in your writing. Mentoring or writing partnerships may be a useful tool in your hands.

Writing workshops, reading circles or retreats such as the ones offered by the Writers' Circle of Durham Region (www.wcdr.org) and other associations can also be a powerful source. There is the opportunity to share material in exercises and feedback, which may propagate entirely new species. Free writing groups may serve a function in the cross-pollination of ideas as well. Exchanging in this fashion will not only produce healthy plants adn rich fruit, but also nourish the soil that each writer tills.

If these routes are not enough to coax hardy blooms, then heading to the nursery for the desired seedlings may be an option. Libraries and bookstores are filled with thousands of inspiring seedlings. Our own WCDR Book Swap provides such a setting thanks to Kevin Craig. Whether books are bought or borrowed, they carry a wealth of motivation. Canadian poet/writer Olive Senior, for example found the inspiration for her upcoming colume of poetry about indigenous Jamaican plantlife in technical, botanical journals. Material about writing as a craft, be it in Poets & Writers (www.pw.org) or the books of Pat Schneider, Janet Burroway, Natalie Goldberg, Anne Bernays, David Morrell or Gabriele Rico can help to fertilize the ground you cultivate. Publications like Writer's Digest (www.writersdigest.com) contain a monthly calendar of daily writing prompts as well as opening lines, brief responses or chronicling contest.

The Internet offers word-of-the-day and thought-for-the-day services to encourage your productivity. Merriam-Webster (www.m-w.com) will even email you daily for free. One Look (www.onelook.com/wotd) and Dictionary.com (www.dictionary.com) are useful and free tools for your gardening kit. It you're digging in the dirt anyway, just for fun check out the worthless word for the day (home.mn.rr.com/wwftd). There are also many sites that charge for their services.

It is important to remember at Thanksgiving that produce is not born of a falling star, but gleaned, plowed, planted and nurtured along. If we are receptive and innovative with the tools in our garden shed and begin with the finest seeds available, we cannot be disappointed. We can then boast that our 'seed money' was well spent.

I'm captured by the texture of the word; the turn of the phrase; the flow of the sentence and need to note the coupling of the ideas they hold. I store stacks of random lists in a small wooden chest for future use. I can revisit this collection that I've dredged from the real world or my lopsided brain at any time and with fresh eyes discover patterns - consistent or inconsistent. Like breadcrumbs on water, they ripple my imagination, so I list them. Days, weeks, months, years later, they may echo through me like stones dropped down a well and stir new responses. Bradbury cites his fifty years of listing word abstractions as one of his most fruitful practices. He might even have used them for chores and groceries like the rest of us!

ARE ALL WRITERS READERS? (published in the WCDR's Word Weaver, July 2005)

We are writers. All day long and, often, late into the night, we play with words. We tinker with phrasing and juxtaposition, always bearing in mind text, context and subtext. Whether it's poetry, fiction or non-fiction, we create prose with the sole purpose of touching an audience -- our audience. We search for a publisher who will embrace our work with the same passion that enveloped us during its creation. We reach out to the "ideal reader", attempting to sway him or her in order to cultivate a following -- hoping lightning will strike! The manuscript sale! The successful release! The glowing reviews! The book tour! The readings !

Readings? wouldn't that mean standing before a group of strangers feeling exposed? In short -- yes. And who knew that you'd be appraised from the moment you rose to walk to the podium? Who knew that your obvious quaking-in-your-shoes would also make your audience feel uneasy? Or that ill-placed gestures aren't always helpful? And that drawing your voice form a different place in your body can change everything? Well, I think Stuart McLean -- a perennial writer-as-reader favourite with his Vinyl Cafe series tour -- might know, and I know that Anna MacKay-Smith definitely does.

In her workshop "Reading Writing by Acting It", MacKay-Smith shared invaluable techniques that actors use to lift words from the page and breathe life into them. But most writers aren't actors. We are simply creators of stories and poetry whose sole purpose is to convey their heartfelt meaning to our audiences. So we writers attended this session in order to "tool up" - to add some new implements to our skill set. After all, these were not someone else's stories we were sharing. These were our own babies! And we wanted others to see them in their Sunday best, to dote over each word with the same emotional connection we felt when manipulating them.

The full-day workshop taught us to view (and respect) our bodies as necessary instruments. We limbered up each muscle yogs-style, first by ourselves, then in groups, to make the workout stress-free. We followed with deep breathing to expand the lungs and then did operatic vocal warm-up exercises to increase both range and register. Nest, we moved on the facial stretches to relax the muscles that normally freeze with fear when facing an audience, and lip-loosening movements that encouraged our jaws, mouths and teeth to perform perfectly under pressure. We finished part one of the workshop with an improv routine that demanded our minds shake off the shackles of restraint as our bodies had.

In session two, MacKay-Smith had each participant stand at the lectern and deliver a piece of his or her writing. It was obvious that even the most familiar prose appeared foreign to the writer when presented orally. We all knew the importance of eye contact but in our nervousness discovered tendencies to being speaking too quickly, to pause incorrectly or use inappropriate inflection, to distract with frequent gestures, to apologize, stumble or sway. "Take time to begin. Look up to deliver your first sentence, and see the images in the work in order to convey them," she told us. MacKay-Smith suggested we commit our first line or two to memory in order to deliver it vividly and expressively, with eyes raised from the page. That, she told us, builds the strongest connection with our listeners. Also, by observing such traits as monotonous tone, breaks in rhythm and unappealing posture or mannerisms in our fellow readers, we learned not to simply float over the text but to add colour to both narrative and dialogue. We readily observed the huge difference MacKay-Smith's coaching made to each reading. The positive audience response fuelled and encouraged each writer-as-reader as each took the floor. In true workshop manner, confidence built on condifence.

By taking the plunge ourselves, repeating and mimicking MacKay-Smith-mimicking-us, we heard and felt the improvement that proper stance, controlled breathing, appropriate pacing, strong vocal projection and charismatic emoting lent our work. Not only did we glean such tips as marking or re-spacing the pages (perhaps even re-designing the work for oral delivery) but we learned to neither apologize for stumbles nor thank an audience upon completion of our presention. In her opinion an audience thank the performer with its applause. She left these small nuggets of wisdom to our discretion. She was, however, steadfast that her number-one tip -- maintaining a level of unbroken concentration on the material -- be followed, as it would diminish our nervousness like no other technique. "No one," sahe siad, "can apply themselves to two things at once."

With practice, she assured us, all the mechanics of this process will being to feel less foreign. "They will fall away invisibly, allowing you as the presenter to grant an audience the experience that is captured in your words -- words that you are feeling as you confidently share them."