Viva Scriva—that expert, well functioning, congenial, critique group. We’re so …blah, blah, blah…. If you’ve been reading this blog, you’ll know that as one of the Scrivas, I’ve been spoiled. Over the years, I’ve had just what I needed.
So I was not happy when acquisitions editors at Ooligan Press asked me to submit Blue Thread, a YA novel I’d pitched to them, to about two dozen graduate students in an editing class at Portland State University. Ooligan is linked to PSU, so the connection made sense. But the critiquing process? I’d get a long, detailed developmental edit letter from each student—way more words in total than my entire manuscript. My work-in-progress would become my work-under-scrutiny by people who didn’t know me and had little or no experience writing YA books.
I said yes, but had my doubts. Instructor Linda Meyer, arranged a class visit. I told the students about areas in which I wanted guidance. I felt better about the process. Then I got that huge pile of letters.
Was every comment a gem? Certainly not. But as I waded through the letters, three images were particularly useful. OK, I’m the gal that graphs manuscripts. Bear with me. Image one—the Blob. That’s my visual for the near unanimity on a specific issue. For example, heat up the romance. Image two—The tree. Most students addressed the same issue (the trunk) but branched out to widely divergent answers. Image three—spattered paint. No consensus on issue or answers. But among the spatters—which I left until last—I found odd, intriguing, creative bits I could use.
As I revised Blue Thread, I consulted the Scrivas again. Double the pleasure! The manuscript turned into a book Ooligan plans to launch in February. Last spring I practically thrust another manuscript in front of Linda’s editing class. Regardless of whether I pitch this book to Ooligan or whether Ooligan acquires it, I know a good deal when I see one.
