I’m a writer.  I make stuff up and write it down for embarrassingly small sums of money.  I don’t write for the money, of course; I write because I like to do it, and sometimes stories nag me until I write them down, at which point they leave me alone and we never have to meet again (Now, I would be happier to do it for regrettably HUGE sums of money, but I guess that’ll happen along anytime now).  I generally like what I write, although there are parts that I hate immensely and other parts that seem to me like a real writer wrote them, one I’ve never met but enjoy reading.  Seriously, sometimes it’s like a stranger wrote something and dumped it in my manuscript.  That’s a great feeling.

However, liking what I write doesn’t make it good, so like any other writer not completely ashamed of what he’s produced I give my work to others to critique.  Sometimes I post it on a forum in a writer’s group, sometimes give it to non-writing friends, other times to writer friends.  I hope for honest feedback and seem to get it (though how would I know).  Since I’m an independent author, I don’t have actual editors to peruse my work, so most of the time it’s fellow writers who give the feedback.

This is great.  It can also be absolutely horrible. Read the rest of this entry →