My critique group is such a hoot.

If you don’t have one, I suggest reaching out to three to five other authors and bending their will until they agree to help you create one. Two years ago, I summoned a bit of courage to do just that while sitting in an uncomfortable, metal chair in a room thick with warm bodies at an Island Writers Network meeting. I’ve been a proud - but mostly absent - member for ten years. The “mostly absent” part haunted me. Would my request be rebuffed? Booted to the curb for not maintaining an active participation in the group?

When the discussion circled to workshops, I leapt to my feet with my hand in the air and declared that I needed a critique group and if this interested anyone, see me after.

Forty people. Not a sound.

A serious cloud of insecurity enveloped me when I sat down. I felt my cheeks warming. The rest of the meeting agenda proceeded, and I bit my fingernail wondering if I’d get any response. I was desperate. Deadlines loomed, big, dark blots on the horizon; and I needed help. After the dismissal of the meeting, I rose from my chair, keeping my eyes on the floor.

Five people rushed toward me, eyes alight, smiles blazing.

My insecurity crept away in defeat. I had my group!

            We chatted, agreed on guidelines, and decided on “three and three.” We’d trade three chapters, have three weeks to read and comment on them, and the fourth week we’d send out our new chapters. Once a month, we’d meet in person. It’s been a rewarding experience for all of us.

            Here are a few tidbits I’d like to pass on regarding our ragtag crew of writers that we’ve dubbed “The Alphas.”
 
1)A critique group doesn’t have to be comprised of writers of the same fiction genre. It’s not the traditional approach, but it’s been an eye-opener, for sure. Our group has a sci-fi writer, two historical writers, a crime noir writer, and me – suspense. We all have different personalities and writing habits, but the foundational principles of writing fiction are universal. I’ve been blown away by the different perspectives of each person, and their input has made my books better.

2)Learn to adjust to different, sometimes abrasive, personalities. “Mr. Encyclopedia,” my pet name for one of our group, insists on correcting every detail of a product, animal, location, event or activity, even it it’s not crucial to the storyline. It’s become a joke, but his attention to detail lends authenticity to our stories. It may irritate us, it may get uncomfortable, but it’s brought growth. And, he’s almost never wrong! (Equally irritating.)

3)Multiple cultures are terrific in critique groups. Reading another race or culture’s creative approach, then critiquing the work and talking about it in person is mesmerizing. On the other side of the coin, their critique of my own work is like having a built-in sensitivity reader.

4)We’ve agreed to ALWAYS include encouraging comments along with the “critical” ones. We trade pages in Word docs and use comments instead of inline edits. Our focus is developmental, or character authenticity, but we throw in the occasional copyedit if it’s glaring. They all know I hate passive sentences, and now we laugh about my (often futile) attempts to get group members to avoid the overuse of “was.” No matter our differences in writing styles, we remain aware that positive comments must be sprinkled in with the more corrective ones.

5)Look forward to new friendships! It’s surprising how sharing our stories - often based on real-life situations that are personal and intimate - creates a deeper, more empathetic understanding of one another. We can ride out the most scathing critique with good-natured jibes and not even blink. A critique group is a powerful bonding tool and source of support.

6)Not that any of us flop around with big heads or overblown pride at our author events, but if we fall into that trap… critique partners provide balance with that big slice of humble pie they serve every week, liberally topped with the whipped cream of encouragement.
 
To those of you floating out there in author-land bemoaning the struggle and treading water emotionally like I was, get up and get going! Find your group! You can thank me later.


Kerry Peresta is the author of the Olivia Callahan Suspense series Level Best Books and Back Before Dawn, a standalone suspense, Level Best Books. Kerry is represented by Cindy Bullard of Birch Literary. 
 Kerry spent thirty years in advertising as an account manager, creative director, copywriter, and editor. She began writing full-time in 2009 as a humor columnist for a daily newspaper before she decided to take the plunge and begin writing novels. Kerry was chapter president of Maryland Writers Association when she lived in Maryland, and currently is a member of the Island Writers Network, the Sisters in Crime organization, South Carolina Writers Association, International Thriller Writers, and is a popular presenter and speaker for the Pat Conroy Literary Center in Beaufort, SC. Kerry and her husband are originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and moved to Hilton Head Island, SC, in 2015. She and her husband enjoy kayaking, road trips, their grandkids, their three cats, and the scenic vistas of the Lowcountry. Discover more at kerryperesta.com.

Cha-cha-cha-changes. The one constant in life. In this decade-birthday year, I feel this acutely. A voice whispers in my ear, “You are the oldest you’ve ever been, and the youngest you’ll ever be.” If there’s stuff I still want to do, I better get to it.

The urgency has already resulted in two trips, one of them to check off bucket-list items: the Teddy Roosevelt National Park and The Enchanted Highway. But I also realize my years as a writer could be numbered. In September, I’ll be on a MWA panel at the MLK Library in San Jose with Laurie King, Leslie Karst, and Heather Haven. We’ll be discussing how we work, how we got started, and what a person needs to do “to make it.”

Like I know that?

However, on more reflection, I do know something about it. My first response—to laugh—is due to constantly moving my goal posts. At one time, I would have thought I’d made it to write a book. Well, I’ve done that a dozen time over if you count the two manuscripts in my file cabinet. Get an agent? I’ve had one. Have a book published. Done. Nine to date.

But even now with seventy traditionally published short stories and a two-book contract with Level Best Books, it’s hard for me to acknowledge the messages that tell me I have reached a certain level of success—the very invitation to be on the aforementioned panel, for example.
Other authors ask me for blurbs.

I was recruited by the NorCal MWA chapter to do a Facebook Live presentation on short story. I moderated a panel on short story at Left Coast Crime. The Coastal Cruisers chapter of Sisters in Crime asked me to do a Zoom presentation on short story.

My local bookstore reached out to see if I’d like to be “in conversation” with a NY Times Bestselling YA thriller writer. Are you kidding me?

The Capitol Crimes chapter of Sisters in Crime asked if I would be a judge for their anthology.

A well-known editor invited me to submit to an anthology he’s put together.

Barb Goffman chose one of my stories to be a reprint in Black Cat Weekly.

Some of these things have required a lot of work on my part but I’ve learned to say yes to opportunities, to step up to difficult jobs like moderating a panel or judging an anthology. They are my way to give back to a community that has supported me, but they are also benchmarks of “making it.”

And it has been my experience that seizing these opportunities and putting in the work generates more opportunities.
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I’ve always wanted to have a contract with a significant publishing company rather than indie publishing my long works via the small, collaborative press to which I belong. Now I’ve achieved that. Of course, reaching one metric does not prevent me from wishing I made more money from writing, would win a prestigious award, or break through to a best sellers list. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to level up, but it’s important to acknowledge our accomplishments and to understand we are not in competition with other authors, but only with our own expectations.

Vinnie Hansen fled the howling winds of the South Dakota prairie and headed for the California coast the day after high school graduation. 

She graduated from the University of California, Irvine (BA) and San Francisco State University (MA) writing programs. She’s gone on to pen numerous short stories; Lostart Street, a novel of mystery, murder and moonbeams; and the Carol Sabala mystery series. The seventh installment in the series, Black Beans & Venom, made the finalist list for the Claymore Award as did the opening of One Gun. 

Still sane after 27 years of teaching high school English, Vinnie has retired and lives in Santa Cruz, California, with her husband and the requisite cat.