I asked my husband to take a look at my Work in Progress the other day and to offer his honest opinion. He did.
"It's too slow here," he said, pointing to a specific chapter. "I think you need to go back to thinking like a journalist."
What?! I was mortified. Offended. Miffed. Disappointed. How could he not see my genius? How could he not realize how wonderful my words were, see the beauty in my prose?! What was he, crazy?!
Then I took a few minutes to cool off, and read over the chapter in question. I reviewed his comments in my head and realized, that, well, he was right. That chapter was indeed moving too slow. It didn't have a journalist's edge. It needed work.
I also realized that I'd fallen into an age-old writer's trap. I hadn't really wanted his review, I'd wanted his validation.
Critiques can be hard to hear. But they're necessary. Vital, even, to move a story forward. Sigh. Type, type, type. Back to the drawing board.
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