how to respond to writing critiques

as a member of a few different writing sites, i interact often with other writers through critique. since one of the goals of critique is to offer suggestions for improvement, i think the natural tendency is to look for those spots, sometimes even at the expense of perspective. if we can't find something to fault, we feel we haven't done a thorough job of it.
that's a shame.
because critiques aren't just about what's wrong with a work, but what's right, also. how the elements fit together to tell the story as a whole is what we're all looking for, i wager--chances are, we understand better than anyone else our shortcomings as writers. feedback on the work's effectiveness all-around is most helpful, for me.
this approach to offering feedback requires mindful reading, of course. we have to read on a few different levels, and i usually need to read a piece at least three times before i feel familiar enough to offer an in-depth critique.

we read at line level:
surface SPaG issues
varied sentence lengths for rhythm and flow
appropriate word choices

at story level:
metaphor and symbolism
character
setting
description
voice
dialogue

and at message level:
theme
what is this story really about?
what is the writer's message?

if i receive a critique addressing my story purely on line level, i'm disappointed. but, sometimes a critiquer only has time to offer off-the-cuff suggestions, and i don't fault someone for trying to help. i'm ecstatic to have a reader!

if i receive an earnest critique from someone investing time and thought into their feedback, i feel honored. if i don't communicate some of my intended theme, or one of my metaphors is offputting, i take the opinion seriously because that person has given my story respect enough to pay attention, to take it in by its parts and as a whole. those critiques are invaluable.

here's what gets me, though. the critique offered in slapdash style, without consideration but with plenty of ego. this person is certain they understand exactly what i tried to accomplish, and will let me know exactly where and how i failed. on top of that, they rewrite sections of the story for my edification, to show me how i should have written a particular line, or scene.

this level of disrespect deserves a variety of responses, but in the name of professionalism and in the virtual world of internet community, how to let this person know your feelings without overstepping?

i always thank someone for reading my work. regardless of their reaction to the story, they've taken time from their day to visit my story, and i appreciate that.
i always thank someone for offering their feedback. in addition to reading, they've also made the effort to give me their opinion--without hearing from a range of readers, we don't know how our writing comes across. if we want to build a wide audience, our writing must be accessible. motivating readers to write in is wonderful, no matter their opinion. we've instigated a strong reaction--hopefully on the power of our writing and not the cannibal baby character sporting a swastika tattoo on his forehead. (that's a topic for another post.)
if a reader expresses confusion about a specific aspect of the story, i'll offer a quick explanation, and polite regret i didn't properly deliver in the story. as long as the tone of the critique is respectful, i'm happy to reciprocate.
when i receive the rare but memorable SOB critique adopting a bastard tone and useless, sometimes abusive opinions, i ignore it. this person has an agenda, and getting a rise is first priority. at most, i acknowledge receiving the "critique" and leave it there. getting into a back-and-forth with this kind of person never goes anywhere good, and honestly, some people are just nuts. better to let some other shiny object attract their attention--and it will, sooner than later.

no, for me, the worst kind of critique to receive is the well-intentioned but woefully misguided or clueless opinion. this person also feels certain, but isn't overtly rude about it. they're not stupid, but they're lazy. they miss basic plot points, or which character says or does what. and then they tell you how to fix your story, how to spell out every character's motivation, how to describe in painful detail each bit of setting, how to change your conclusion so everyone's happy in the end. this person wants to help, but they just don't get it. and if you tell them so, you're colored the defensive, angry writer who can't take honest criticism. so, what to do?

i still struggle with this. one one hand, writers have a shared responsibility to help other writers--almost a calling. we want as many well-crafted and meaningful stories out there as possible. not only do we gain from a higher standard as consumers of stories, we raise the overall bar. that's a good thing. along that line, i should do my best to help this misguided critiquer understand what i'm trying to do in this story, and how. that the doll's eye is a metaphor for how the little girl sees herself reflected in her mother's gaze, and is not just a piece of pretty plastic.
on the other hand, where do i draw the line between artistic cameraderie and suffering foolishness? do i risk the defensive rejoinder, the "i know you are but what am i" retort? indeed. who am i to educate someone not outright asking for it? that's disrespectful, no matter how politely i couch it.
so i thank them for reading and sending me their critique. i note what points i agree with (if any), and what points i respectfully disagree with, and i leave it there. if this person responds asking why i disagree, then that's an opening to enter into a conversation--one both parties are open to. i've had some great discussions beginning just this way. whatever comes of the exchange, i've shown this person the respect they deserve, and hopefully, i come away with another positive--a longtime reader.

in case you're interested in developing online partnerships with other writers, here are the writing sites i belong to:

www.scribophile.com -- free basic membership, site focus on writing and critique, "karma"-based system, vibrant and outspoken community. i've met some amazing writers and editors here. forums range from entertaining to exasperating, and can suck major time away from your day. forewarned. best overall writing site, in my opinion.

www.critiquecircle.com -- free basic membership, not as attractive or interactive as scribophile, but in my (so far) limited experience a solid site for obtaining feedback on writing. another point-based system to guarantee fairness in posting frequency versus offered critiques.

www.writing.com -- basic membership free, established a decade ago and bragging a HUGE member population, this site is a monster. not as focused on developing writing skills as socializing and participation in various themed groups, this site is easy to slip between the cracks unless you're comfortable with constant and widespread political massage. unlimited activities, including writing contests and workshops--and some are serious-minded. i've found a few stellar writers here amidst the confetti, and value them as much as i've met anywhere.

writers is funny people.

looks like tuesdays are good blog days for me. i have my writing classes on tuesdays, so that makes sense--i'm all writery with the thinking tuesday evenings.

tonight the class discussed a short story by Djuna Barnes, "Ladies Almanack: July". amazing writing crammed into a two-page litany about the excesses of love and how silly/fantastical they are. i think also that lesbians were involved, but that's more of a gut thing than an aspect confirmed by academic analysis. but beautiful language; the story should be read aloud. find it, if you can. (we're using a collection of post-modern short fiction called "Innovations", edited by robert mclaughlin. i found my copy on www.amazon.com for about $.40 plus shipping.)

other events in my writing life: uhh...lots of reading this week. reading and critiquing classmates' work. which is an education, for sure. i've got a long way to go, but i've come some of the way on my own. i feel all right about it.

upcoming deadlines: three contests in the next six weeks; a recommendation letter requested by a writery cohort in the next four weeks; homework out the ass (continuous); and those countless unfinished stories that call out to me, plaintive and booty-hurt. when will i ever get to them? must harness yard squirrels for greater power generation. see? one more thing on the list.

what else? i've been writing a lot of dark fiction the last few years. almost all of my stories and some of my few attempts at poetry are dark and weird. that's how i characterize my writing when people ask. "dark and weird", i say. and they shrug, probably assuming i'm a hack. well, i don't blame them. people who write dark are clearly look to shock and appall. they're giggling behind their fingers, waiting for the reader to get to that one spot, the one with the spurting blood and scraps of gray matter, and usually tentacles or fangs, batwings flapping about. that's what we write about, right? that's the assumption, anyway.

i can't really say why i keep revisiting the same themes using the methods i do. maybe i need to keep doing it until i get it right. maybe i'm a skipping record, hoping the kiddies will spin along with me on the go-round. but it's not out of my system, yet. i may visit uplifting and flirt with joy once in a while, but there's something about the scarred that draws me in, still.

about tonight's blog title: i was thinking about people who write, about how--no matter the style or subject or goal--people who write understand each other. we work through the same puzzles, the same hurdles, have many of the same urges. i imagine it's a symbiosis common to people who pursue artistic . . . pursuits. (i me like wordings. *rolls eyes*) i'm not fluent in painting or film making or music, so i can't say. but i get goosebumpy when i'm in a room with people who write when they're talking about the writing. i restrain myself from thumping my chest and declaring us all Clan Mates Of the Order Of the Pen. barely. i mean, i don't really know these people. as much as i toodle about online with other people who write, i don't get the same physical rush. there's something to be said for carnate proximity. carnate? yep. i said it.

am i feeling disdain or fear?

i recently suffered through analysis. not freudian, or transactional, but literary. i love discussing a story as much as, well, anyone else, but the story loses its magic for me when i have to consider aspects such as: the author's self-referential argument between narrator (the author, in this case?) and character about the thin veil between reality and the fantastical. i've not read a lot of "postmodern" fiction, but if the subgenre dictates this kind of discussion, i don't need to read a lot more. i don't like fiction that plays games. metafiction. feh. give me a good story, dammit. and characters that make me feel something. and a theme that leaves me wondering about the world, or the people in it. i've never been one to glorify masturbatory intellectualism. it reeks of musty panties, and i'm embarrassed for those who wallow in them. it. whatever. i'm ranting, so grammar's negotiable.

so, why am i pissed off about it? mainly because i suspect that IF i do get into this MFA program i've applied for, i'm gonna have to suffer through many more black beret discussions like today's. can i do it? yeah. but damn if i'm afraid of losing access to the magical gremlin inside me, the little dude who allows me to write my stories without worrying about all the analytical "booshit", as russel brand might say. i love writing, and i'm determined not to let learning about it ruin the fun. i just wonder why we monkeys feel the compulsion to overanalyze every single little thing to death ad infinitum. thppt. anyhoo, back to your regular business.

right now, i'm reading: "my happy life" by lydia millet