What a day! Went to the first meeting of Fiction Foundry’s new Sunday group. Loved seeing so many writers passionate about their work. Existing FF members filled the new ones in on how the dynamics work (since yours-truly has fallen a bit behind on adding the information to the FF website).
As to the critiques…they went great! People loved the conceptual critique format. Brainstorming ran rampant which is what one of the FF goals are.
…and another of the great parts…beer at a local pub following the meeting. How can you go wrong with crazy writers, critiques and beer?
Here’s most of ‘em (missed a few at this first meeting, but they’re chomping at the bit for the next one).
The best part? Every last one of them are completely batshit crazy!
We had a few changes in the attendee roster. We lost Hollie to the Sunday group (a big congrats to my muse on her promotion). On the up side, we added Tiffany and Shelly to our roster. Even though most of us know each other, I was sure that things might be a little awkward and take a meeting or two for everyone to fall into a rhythm.
…I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Personally, I blame Larry and the infamous “Horn Dog” character in his submission. He had us cracking up, seeing how low-brow the jokes could go. I can safely say the next submission’ll have us dyin’. We punched through a total of three subs and laughed the whole time.
Times are good.
Well, after a long internal debate, I’ve decided to found another writing group. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still be an active part of the Colorado Springs Fiction Writer’s Group, but I feel it’s time for a more aggressive change. Where the CSFWG focuses on making “Good Writing Better,” Fiction Foundry will focus on putting the final polish on pieces before publication.
This will be a fun experiment and I’m interested to see how it plays out.
Wow! What a Tuesday meeting this month. Every last one of us ended up acting around 14 throughout the meeting. I actually feel kinda bad for our innocent walk-in visitor. She may need therapy after this.
I volunteered to be the first author on the chopping block and got praise and hits pretty much where I expected to – though got nailed on a few points that definately need attention in the novel. What seemed to set us all off was the sex scene at the end of chapter 11. Everyone ended up getting the giggles (yes, folks, I’m using the taboo word, “giggles.”).
Then we went to the next author . . . and the next. Every critique ended up with inuendos of some kind. It was hilarious. I wish I’d been recording it.
Don’t get me wrong – the critiques were fantastic and spot-on for all of us. But the “Case of the Sillies” monster was playing our funny bones like a Xylophone.
I live for these kind of meetings!
So Tuesday night gets here and I settle in to get my critiques. Surprise, surprise, I’m at the top of the chopping block (I mean, I know I need to make myself scarce around Thanksgiving, but this is March, damn it).
The critiques are spot on – nailing me where I need it, complimenting me when I need it (you know, right before the knife goes in and twists). Thinning characters . . . possible. A little more juice at the end . . . sure. Typos . . . absolutely. But Kari finding a double meaning with my “hung” corpse swinging overhead had me stifling snickers all evening. Soooooo not what I meant.
At the end of the meeting I asked if there were any volunteers to read my Masters of Macabre competition story when I finally get it written. My challenge phobia is coitophobia. I mean, how the hell do I end up getting assigned to write about sex phobias? Granted I’ll be blushing and laughing my ass off when I write it, but being able to keep a straight face when getting a pre-publication critique’s another thing entirely. Most of the group volunteered right out of the gate to help. Talk about gluttons for punishment.
I’d say, “on the up side,” but it’s really all an “up side” with these people. They really bust their collective tails on delivering good critiques and insight – that’s about members of both groups . . . hell, that’s about all members of all four groups (yes four, boys and girls). I can’t wait to see what they say about the novel chapter I submitted tonight. The next meeting’s a whole month away . . . . Arrrrrgh!
My biggest complaint of the moment is finishing off the Dorothy/Oz story (and editing it, and rewriting it, AND getting Hollie to look it over, AND rewriting it again) in time for Thursday’s deadline. Where the hell’s the monorail to Oz? I need to get to my destination quicker.
It’s fantastic knowing I have a literary dysfunctional family just waiting to bludgeon me on a regular basis.
<Doing my best Cartman> “I really love you guys.”
Critique day at the Sunday group. I waited with bated breath (as opposed to “baited” breath, which made me the desire of the seven seas . . . I’ll never make that mistake again) to get my turn on the chopping block and find out what others thought of my civil war era horror story, “1865.”
The general consensus was quite positive, though I took my hits where I expected to – mainly about the number of characters named in the course of the 9,600 word piece. Of all the criticisms, only one stung, and I heard it three different ways from three different people. It needed to be longer. I wanted more, but it’s a short story so it is what it is. I wanted to have more from the characters. Oof! I had to get permission from the editor to go 600 words over his limit. I don’t really see him allowing me another 2,500 to round it out the way the group’s wanting. I dunno – maybe if I said pretty please with desiccated flesh on top?
A fun part to today was celebrating Jenny Caress’ birthday. Any of you who’ve perused my Facebook have seen me and the demonic Campbell’s kid reject (love you, Jenny) incessantly flipping each other off or doing another form of bodily damage to each other. I’ve teased her since Thursday about having eaten her birthday cookie – yet I brought it and look at the loving response I get.
Sheesh . . . of course I didn’t tell her which side of the cookie I licked . . . bwaaaaahahahahaha!
My fourteen year old son is a poet. He recently joined the Colorado Springs Fiction Writers Group Tuesday group (there’s a mouthful for you). Josh is the youngest member to ever join (beating out Amy by a couple of months). I was a little skeptical with him becoming a member. Our group’s fantastic, but thorough (not to mention a little blood thirsty).
At the very first meeting he put all my concerns to rest. He listened to his poetry critiques with interest and took more notes than I think I did all through school. When it came to critiques he was in there like a seasoned pro, touching on points he felt could be stronger and praising aspects he liked.
Now why can’t everything go this smooth?