In the shadow of the King

Have you heard of Tabitha King? You might know she’s the wife of Stephen King, but do you know she’s also an author? No?

I won’t hold that against you, I found out by accident myself. I mean, I always knew she was a writer, I’d read in one of the biographies about her husband how the two met at college, and how ‘Tabby’ was a poet. And apparently ‘damn cute’, according to Stephen. But, as usual, I digress.

I discovered the first novel of hers I read by accident, but I hunted down the others with intent. I only came across it because someone stuck it on the shelf next to the Stephen King paperbacks, and I always check there. Just in case, you know, a book release might have snuck past me.

That first Tabitha King novel was The Book of Reuben and it was a revelation to me. From the first page I was falling into a parallel world, a black hole, a trance, whatever you like to call it when a story simply takes you away. Tabitha King writes engaging, lyrical prose with never a wasted word and she tells a great story. I haven’t read all of her books yet (I can be a bit of a squirrel; I like to know there’s some still waiting for me) but I have read a few, enough to know Reuben was no fluke.

Tabitha King doesn’t have a huge body of work. I wonder if it’s because she’s been busy with raising a family and being an author’s wife. I believe Lisey’s Story isn’t about Tabitha and Stephen King in the strictest sense, but it surely isn’t totally unconnected. Perhaps Tabitha King is just a writer who lays down words over a more leisurely turn of the seasons than other, more famous authors.

Has Tabitha lived in the shadow of the King? Maybe. If so, her talent is shade-loving, and has produced exquisite blooms.

To crit or not to crit

Many of us who write have a small circle of critique partners, fellow writers–usually at a similar standard and with similar goals–with whom we exchange work and offer constructive criticism. Or that’s the theory.

Critiquing may be a great help in improving your work but it can also be rather like walking a tightrope over a snake-infested pit circled by tigers. And lions. Hungry ones.

OK, I got a bit carried away there, but critiquing does come with responsibility and a not insignificant risk.

The responsibility lies in making sure you give your critique partners fair and constructive feedback on their work. Your job as a CP is to help them figure out what they’re trying to say when they haven’t done that as well as they could have – you’ll need tact, by the way – and to spot any deficiencies and suggest remedies. It’s a tough job.

Now to the risks. There’s the risk you’ll offend someone. The risk they’ll offend you. The risk you’ll be making changes that are contrary to your story, your themes and your voice.

I am lucky to have some awesome CPs and this is what I’ve learnt: when critiquing it’s best to be honest, but go gently. You need to stay true to the writer’s voice and goals, not your own. This is not your story.

When you ask for a critique, be specific about what feedback you are looking for; this gives your CPs some guidance and ensures you don’t get a line edit when you just wanted to know if the plot hung together. If you listen to that voice within you’ll know which bits of advice to act on, which bits to tuck away for some thought, and which bits to dump in the bin.

Which voice is that, you say? You know. It’s the voice you let out on the page when everything is going well. Your voice.

The audience yet to come

Hi there.

I'm new to blogging so I hope you'll bear with me. Of course, that presumes there's actually someone out there reading this. Someone interested in what I have to say.

As a writer I operate on that assumption all the time; I'm usually writing for the ghost of the audience yet to come.

One of the reasons I've never blogged: I wasn't sure I'd have anything to blog about. In hindsight, that seems ridiculous. If I didn't have anything to say, I wouldn't be a writer.

Being a writer is about communicating. Communicating hopes. Fears. Dreams. Raising your voice. At least, that's what it means to me. I'd love to hear what it means to you.