My critique group gave me flowers!

The word critique doesn’t have a hospitable ring to it, does it?

Yesterday, when I told my critique group I was going to write about this subject on my blog, one woman said, “There’s a big difference between giving a critique and being critical.”

Driving home after, I pondered our time together. In how many instances would a diverse collection of people travel thirty minutes through traffic and negotiate skimpy parking to seek criticism?

I belong to and depend on a steadfast group—once complete strangers and now team partners—a serious and superior bunch that is both loving and straight forward. I want their bare-bones honesty. How the editor at the publishing house is going to look at my work. Some criticism is constructive and some less. (An occasional ouch is worth it.) My critique group would never let me get away with a cliché like, “Let it roll off your back like water off a duck,” but it pays to have thick skin (oops, another cliché) and discernment. And our members are kindhearted and sensitive.

We gather weekly—a self-imposed deadline to get something written. We’ve joked that if Thanksgiving weren’t on a Thursday, we’d meet at our regular time. All members are dedicated to getting published and have been. After a short prayer time, usually concerning our writing, we read what we’ve brought: perhaps a chapter—possibly for the third time—an article, a poem, or an idea someone wants to kick around. As the presenter reads, we listen and make copious notes, then share our impressions, always keeping an eye on the ticking clock. We do our best not to interrupt one another and keep our comments brief.

When I get home, I pour over their written notes. Each member comes from a different background and perspective, so of course we can’t and wouldn’t take all the advice on everything they say, nor expect them to take ours. But I make a note of every mention made by my writing partners.

Here’s a thought: You or I buy a new outfit, meet friends at a restaurant, and say, “Well, how do I look?” All you see is the blank faces of acquaintances trying their hardest not to hurt your feelings. “Uh—I’ve never seen you in lime green before,” one might offer. Another might say, “Truthfully? Those slacks add ten pounds to your hips.” And they could be right. Or they could be wrong, even though they love you and want what’s best for you and wish to spare you pain. So it goes when asking advice about anything, be it a photo, a painting, a quilt, or newly knit sweater. Or a red velvet cake.

If you’re a writer and toying with joining a critique group, I strongly urge you to plunge in! Same for quilting, knitting, gardening, and any other endeavor where companionship and shared experiences are fortifying and constructive. I heard on the news that people who regularly attend groups, including religious institutions, live longer; a good reason to join one right there!