Feedback and writer response can be so tricky. I like having time to think about a piece of writing that I’m responding to, and I like to have time to think about feedback I receive before responding as well. Writing is hard, and criticism is hard, even when constructive. When I offer feedback, I try to be mindful that my feedback is meant to serve, not hurt the writer. Sometimes it’s helpful to hear the writer’s intentions and weigh that against what you received from a piece. It can help us to tailor our feedback. In the end, writers need to feel free to accept, partially accept, or reject feedback as one reader’s opinion. I sometimes find it necessary to put a piece of writing away for a while, before I can see what others are seeing in my work; especially true when a piece of writing hits close to home. Even if I don’t agree with a critique, I appreciate the time others take to read and think about my writing.
Titles and lyrics are worth unpacking for the why’s of their poetics.
The Agony and the Ecstasy (Irving Stone). Here we have agony, and, ecstasy — although the third one begins with a slightly different vowel, it starts out in the mouth the same. Whether we call this assonance or alliteration, it sounds great either way. Plus there’s rhyme, and the rhetorical device of linking two dissimilar or contrasting things (The Sorrow and the Pity, The Naked and the Dead).
He not busy being born is busy dying (Dylan). Alliteration, of course, but also assonance with he and being, and a consonance effect with the repetition of busy. Surprisingly, Dylan sings being and dying quite carefully (he often drops trailing g’s), so there’s kind of a rhyme too.
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (Eliot). Unless you pronounce “the” as “thee” you get assonance for free with love and of (which rhyme), plus song and -frock almost. There’s something about the vowels that makes this memorable: four short vowels, punctuated by J’s long vowel, two more short, long, short.
Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall (John Lennon). Little bit of everything, including meter.
When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d (Whitman). Again, everything, all wrapped up in an iambic line. Can’t get much better than this.
Lots of topics being covered in this comments section (apropos of the post). I'm responding to your notes about writers responding to and interacting with readers in your workshops:
I agree that online workshops need to function differently from in-person workshops. When you're in person, there needs to be that gag order on the writer while the feedback is being shared, so the readers can get their thoughts out fully and unabashedly. We don't have to guard so alertly against writer interference or bullying online, but we also don't have the benefit of the more organic flow of human conversation. The next best thing to that conversation is a back-and-forth between writer and reader in the comments, so I'm all for it, within the guidelines of civility and mutual gratitude that you've outlined.
I agree with you as to encouraging the writer to respond and she should be encouraged to ask questions, clarifications, to ask for more detail. That is what helps us after all: specifics.
When I went into schools that they are experts only in how their minds reacted to the words, that they should notice what they are noticing and articulate these observations in a way that is well-received. And, and, and they should embrace any questions the writer may have.
Feedback and writer response can be so tricky. I like having time to think about a piece of writing that I’m responding to, and I like to have time to think about feedback I receive before responding as well. Writing is hard, and criticism is hard, even when constructive. When I offer feedback, I try to be mindful that my feedback is meant to serve, not hurt the writer. Sometimes it’s helpful to hear the writer’s intentions and weigh that against what you received from a piece. It can help us to tailor our feedback. In the end, writers need to feel free to accept, partially accept, or reject feedback as one reader’s opinion. I sometimes find it necessary to put a piece of writing away for a while, before I can see what others are seeing in my work; especially true when a piece of writing hits close to home. Even if I don’t agree with a critique, I appreciate the time others take to read and think about my writing.
Loving this space,
Sheryl
I will give it a try.
Assonance: Prevent pretence by repeating brief facts with honesty and sincerely.
Consonance: A cacophony of musical notes connected the music to the crowd.
Titles and lyrics are worth unpacking for the why’s of their poetics.
The Agony and the Ecstasy (Irving Stone). Here we have agony, and, ecstasy — although the third one begins with a slightly different vowel, it starts out in the mouth the same. Whether we call this assonance or alliteration, it sounds great either way. Plus there’s rhyme, and the rhetorical device of linking two dissimilar or contrasting things (The Sorrow and the Pity, The Naked and the Dead).
He not busy being born is busy dying (Dylan). Alliteration, of course, but also assonance with he and being, and a consonance effect with the repetition of busy. Surprisingly, Dylan sings being and dying quite carefully (he often drops trailing g’s), so there’s kind of a rhyme too.
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (Eliot). Unless you pronounce “the” as “thee” you get assonance for free with love and of (which rhyme), plus song and -frock almost. There’s something about the vowels that makes this memorable: four short vowels, punctuated by J’s long vowel, two more short, long, short.
Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall (John Lennon). Little bit of everything, including meter.
When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d (Whitman). Again, everything, all wrapped up in an iambic line. Can’t get much better than this.
Great post, Alison. I remember you bringing up the bookstore analogy in a UBC class. Never forgot it.
Lots of topics being covered in this comments section (apropos of the post). I'm responding to your notes about writers responding to and interacting with readers in your workshops:
I agree that online workshops need to function differently from in-person workshops. When you're in person, there needs to be that gag order on the writer while the feedback is being shared, so the readers can get their thoughts out fully and unabashedly. We don't have to guard so alertly against writer interference or bullying online, but we also don't have the benefit of the more organic flow of human conversation. The next best thing to that conversation is a back-and-forth between writer and reader in the comments, so I'm all for it, within the guidelines of civility and mutual gratitude that you've outlined.
I agree with you as to encouraging the writer to respond and she should be encouraged to ask questions, clarifications, to ask for more detail. That is what helps us after all: specifics.
When I went into schools that they are experts only in how their minds reacted to the words, that they should notice what they are noticing and articulate these observations in a way that is well-received. And, and, and they should embrace any questions the writer may have.