In my college writing classes, we had to critique each other’s work. We got the assignment, wrote the essay or short story or first chapter of blazing erotica. In a world of non-judgment, tolerance, and anything goes, passing judgment could be a wee bit taxing.
So we had rules.
They were as follows: We made enough copies of our essay, short story, or first chapter of blazing erotica to pass to each member of the class. We handed out the copies. Each person in the class took the essay, short story, or first chapter of blazing erotica home to review.
We were then instructed to find three good things about the piece and then with delicate finesse and vibrating sensitivity we were allowed to list three ways the essay, short story, or first chapter of blazing erotica could/would/should be improved.
Because to improve a writer must be able to identify where a piece of writing works and where it does not work.
So, back in class, sitting around a big round table, we were then allowed to share our observations. The author was not allowed to speak or retort. I like to call this method the Round Table Review.
Sounds straight forward doesn’t it?
Yeah . . . whatever.
I recall one such Round Table Review that I had to do that went something like this: Things I liked 1) Strong title, 2) Excellent use of the word the, and 3) I like that you double spaced everything.
Things to be improved 1) A story about flappers should not be set in the 1995, 2) The dog’s dialog sounds stilted, and 3) Bestiality is spelled wrong.
I struggled for an entire Saturday to come up with three positive things to say about the above mentioned story. The irony? The writer did not show up for class—again, ever.
I will admit that I do like the Round Table Review method for other aspects of life, however.
In life’s endless struggles and events it can be very helpful to return and report if only for your own edification. Three things that worked. Three things that could stand to be improved. It’s that or be prepared to plaster smiles on your face, nod in the affirmative robotically, and clap like a three-year-old endlessly for the duration of this thing called life, especially in the non-judgement age of tolerance. Some examples of the Round Table Review for life:
Things that worked: 1) Super cute balloon arch 2) Good pinata 3) Excellent bounce house.
Things that need work: 1) Keep the dessert skewers away from the kids around the balloon arch 2) Less blindfolding of children with pinata bats 3) Locate the bounce house that blew away and landed in the next county.
Things that worked: 1) Voted early 2) Displayed the I voted early sticker 3) Cute red/white/blue outfit worn for early voting.
Things that need work: 1) Never tell anyone that you voted or for whom 2) Make sure not to wash the I voted early sticker on your cute red/white/blue outfit 3) Find an underground movement to join.
Things that worked: 1) Sacrificed life for children 2) Ensured children’s health, wealth, and safety 3) Helped them on their way.
Things that need work: 1) Join the underground movement.
Being truthful about things that need work isn’t yucky. It’s necessary. Or the writing never improves, the mistakes are never fixed, and the best never becomes the standard.
I believe there are three phases to becoming an author: 1) If anyone reads this essay, short story, or blazing piece erotica I’ll die 2) Okay, you can read it, but don’t tell me what you think or I’ll die and 3) I’ll give you a thousand dollars to read this, lest I die.
Grownups welcome constructive criticism.
Linda (Oh, Grow Up) Zern
