Beer Goggles, First Drafts, and Tattoo Nightmares

I love it when seeming unrelated things connect like paper dolls in my mind. Beer goggles (for those too innocent to know) are what people claim to have been wearing when they've had a few drinks too many and the Star Trek fan who never caught their eye before suddenly becomes HAWT and fascinating and all sorts of kissable.

So what would beer goggles have to do with a first draft of a manuscript? Lots, my friend. Lots. Creating words and worlds, chaos and conflict—it’s intoxicating. We come up for air enamored and hazy, buzzing enough that the lines between a good start and a good manuscript get blurry and sometimes disappear.

One of my current favorite shows is Tattoo Nightmares. It’s a reality show where people with awful tattoos come to three amazing artists to get cover-ups. The backstories? Fascinating. The finished products? Mind blowing. You can hardly see traces of the botched pieces they used to have. They each leave with a masterpiece of skin art.

Being a part of a critique group keeps me from beer goggling after a first draft. I am still the artist, but discussing my manuscript with other writers helps sober me up and transform a good beginning into a work that’s ready to show others.

So how about you? Ever fall in love with an awful first draft or get a terrible tattoo? Comment and tell us about it.

Capilocks and the Three Critique Partners

Once upon a time, there lived a young writer with stories worth gold bouncing from her head. She dreamed of an amazing house—a publishing house that would take her manuscript all the way to Happily Ever After. So after Capilocks trudged through the Forest of Revision, she set out to find a critique partner that was juuuuuuust right.

The first partner she found was a tough one. He flashed his red Sharpie and laughed a maniacal laugh as he slayed each sentence and made them his own. He belittled her ideas, told her to only write to the trends, and tweeted mean things about her crappy first drafts.

Capilocks shuddered. “This relationship is too hard.” She wished him well, gathered her tattered ego, and backed away.

The next partner she found was quite cuddly. She dotted her I’s with smileys and hearts, embraced every adverb, and proclaimed, “Brilliant! Send it!” whenever Capilocks scribbled out a new manuscript on the back of a phone message. Capilocks liked this new partner. She never criticized and always encouraged, but Capilocks' stories were still rather suckish.

“This critiquer is too soft,” she said. Capilocks looked around for someone new.

At last, she landed in a relationship with a fabulous writer and caring soul—someone who wanted her to succeed, but wasn’t afraid to ask tough questions. Someone who encouraged her voice, but hid the postage stamps and guarded the send button until manuscripts were polished and prime.

“This critique relationship is just right,” said Capilocks. And it was.

I’ve been blessed to work with some amazing critique partners and dodged a few that didn’t work for me. Where do you go to find great critique partners? Do you ever find it’s tough to critique in a way that’s juuuuust right? Please share in the comments below.