Author Archives: Tara Maya
Author Archives: Tara Maya
I’ve been on both sides of the beta read.
In the following hypothetical situations, I’ve also been the reader making vague or specific suggestions. For simplicity’s sake, I’ll discuss it from the writer’s side today.
I’ve experienced what it’s like to have someone tell me: “This paragraph [scene/chapter/last third of the book] doesn’t work. You could probably cut about 10,000 useless words if you tighten this.”
My response: That’s great, but how? If I knew which words were useless, I wouldn’t have included them.
Then again, the beta reader may rewrite the five-page scene where the hero and heroine storm the castle as, “They ate ice-cream.”
My response: Wtf? That isn’t what I wanted to say, or how I would have said it.
However, frequently I do accept a beta reader’s suggested changes, especially of clunky sentences, even scenes, wholesale.
Suppose what I had written was originally, “Laboriously, yet also suddenly and instantaneously the bullet kaboomed and zoomed out of the gun muzzle on the gun she was holding and pointing at him, hurtling through the air like a speeding bullet, which in fact it was, until it began to pierce his broad yet vulnerable chest, fragmenting bone and hurting a lot.”
The beta reader suggests, “She shot him.”
And I think, “Brilliant! This captures the whole thing in just three words! Why didn’t I think of that?”
But then a part of me looks at the stripped down version, and wonders, but has it lost my voice? Did I do more than put out the fire on the roof, did I kill the spark in the lamp?
Do you ever worry about losing your voice during rewrites?
I needed a disgusting, yet believable food for a scene in my book. A previous scene already covered the dietary needs of cannibals, and I needed this to be even worse than that.
Little did I know there were so many contenders.
After some thought, I decided to keep the Icelandic name for the chosen dish, an indelicacy which has been declared “the world’s worst food”: hakurl — putrified poison shark.
So what does hakarl taste like then? It tastes like crying. It tastes like broken promises. It tastes like the Lord God Almighty ripping the Bible out of your hands and saying, “Sorry, this doesn’t apply for you. I think you want “Who Moved My Cheese?” It tastes like the Predator wading into a Care Bears movie and opening fire.
Sadly, I won’t be able to use this description of it, much as I would love to.
After some thought, I decided to keep the Icelandic name for the food featured in one scene in my book:hakurl.
So what does hakarl taste like then? It tastes like crying. It tastes like broken promises. It tastes like the Lord God Almighty ripping the Bible out of your hands and saying, “Sorry, this doesn’t apply for you. I think you want “Who Moved My Cheese?” It tastes like the Predator wading into a Care Bears movie and opening fire.http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A3895653
Another of my fine beta readers sent comments back to me on The Corn Maiden. This is for the version prior to my current revisions, so I expected to hear about problems.
It’s funny, isn’t it? Your head can tell you that you want hear what the problems are, you need this information; your heart, however, just wants to hear affirmations. So I opened the email and attached file with rumble-belly dread. How bad is it?
Actually, the criticisms were extremely consistent with what other beta readers said.
(1) To paraphrase: Why is every single character, including your MC, unable to see the Completely Obvious Plot Point? Is everyone in your story world really Too Stupid To Live?
(Answer: Er… not really, no. Just the author!)
(2) The pacing drags in places. (I hope to find out more about which scenes were boring when I read the line-edit comments).
This beta reader also pointed out two new things:
(3) The hero is too perfect; he hasn’t enough flaws to seem human.
(4) The opening scene in the story promised one thing, but the main character plot arcs delivered something else; if not for the set-up, the story would have been fine, but after the expectations set by the opener, the story disappoints. Ouch.
Finally, the beta reader made an interesting point, not about how things were wrong, but asking about a change.
(5) There are three major story threads in the book: the main story, a subplot in the present, and a subplot in the past. Each thread, though intertwined with the others, is independent enough to not need the others. This reader found the subplot in the past to be the strongest, and wanted to know why I didn’t just make it a book in and of itself, or, alternatively, cut the subplot in the present entirely. Undeniably, either of these actions would take care of my word count problem!
I’m hoping the present revisions address issues (1) and (2). Issues (3) and (4) are both related to the fact (the beta reader recognized the problem), that this book opens a series, and not as a stand-alone novel. I’m not sure what to do about this. My original plan was to go the traditional route and give the first book in the series a “safe” ending, a happy-for-now-ending. That just didn’t work. There’s no way to end it without a cliff-hanger. And if the reader senses that the real story is just beginning, they’re right. (It’s comparable in this way more to The Fellowship of the Ring than The Hobbit.)
So I agree with 4 of the 5 criticisms. However, I disagree with (5). Yes, I could have three short, stand-alone novels for the price of one. (Don’t think this hasn’t occurred to me!) Yes, it would help with my word count if I eliminated one or even two of the subplots. However, the three plots are like strands of a braid. Though they could each work alone, I believe they are stronger together; together, they subtly change the meaning of the whole, making it more than the sum of its parts. At least, that is how it is meant to work, how it works in the books I most admire.
The story is an epic, after all. I find it’s hard to convey epic with a single-strand story.
In a story with multiple plotlines, it’s natural that some readers relate more to certain characters’ story arcs than others. As long as different readers prefer different plotlines, this is not a flaw, but a strength. I’ve already noticed that some of my beta readers favor certain characters over others, and — this is the good part — they aren’t the same characters. This is how it should be. If every reader universally panned the same subplot, it would be different, and I would have to consider deleting or seriously revising that subplot. I still wouldn’t eliminate subplots altogether, however.
http://ursulakleguin.com/Note-Calling-Utopia-a-utopia.html
http://www.slate.com/id/2217815/