By Faith Brynie

Imagine you are building a house. Will you

• hang the curtains before the walls go up?
• install the carpets before the plumbing is in?
• mount a ceiling fan before the wiring is done?

Of course not. You know that the structural elements of a house must be in place before the decoration can commence.

Yet some beginning fiction writers—even some experienced ones—make that kind of mistake in their novels and short stories. They double-check the spelling, fine-tune the formatting, and even hire a copyeditor to root out the typos before they have checked to make sure that all their structural elements are in place. They try to decorate their house before it’s built. Then they are surprised when it falls down.

Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against copyediting. I do a lot of it myself and I consider it an essential final step before the submission of a manuscript (or before self-publishing). But the first step is the one writers should not overlook—and that’s getting an objective, unbiased opinion on such questions as

• Is my protagonist suitably strong, yet flawed?
• Are my supporting characters richly drawn?
• Does my plot move?
• Do I sustain conflict and build it with rising action?
• Does my plot derive logically from the personalities of my characters?
• Do I keep my readers turning pages with vivid scene-setting, well-constructed dialogue, and an appropriate balance between action and exposition?
• Is my point of view consistent and compelling?
• Does my ending deliver what my beginning promises?

In the critiques I prepare for fiction writers, I answer those questions and many more. I give my clients honest, unbiased, analyses—based not on my subjective feelings about a work, but on the fundamental principles of excellence in fiction that are well established in modern publishing. I don’t let my personal preferences stand in the way. (That’s why I seldom critique fantasy, swords and sorcery, or romance novels. I don’t like those genres much, and I don’t want to let my bias spill over into a critique.) Along with the objective analysis, I offer suggestions for improvement. My critiques say, “Here’s the problem, and here’s how you fix it.” I sometimes rewrite example sections to illustrate how the “fix” can be achieved.

Your rejection slips won’t do for you what a critique will. They usually say something general such as “not for us” or “slow middle” or “lacks appeals.” What does that mean? How do you improve? A good critique is targeted and to the point. It tells you exactly what to do. It serves as a blueprint for the construction of the “house” that is your novel or story.

Furthermore, the utility of a critique is not limited to a single manuscript. A detailed critique is a personalized writing course tailor-made for you. It reveals both your strengths and your weaknesses. It shows you how to make the most of what you do best and how to correct the faults that may be holding you back.

One other important point: Don’t expect a useful critique from your mother, your best friend, or your writing group. They know you and love you and want you to feel good about yourself. They see all your fine qualities and can’t bear the thought of hurting your feelings. Even if they offer criticism, they do it from their own, limited perspective. They don’t subject your work to a series of objective analyses. They can only tell you what they like or don’t like.

I recently critiqued a manuscript for a new novelist who was within sniffing distance of her first publishing contract. Her agent liked the work, but had some reservations. What the reservations were, the agent couldn’t or didn’t say. Ditto the editor at a major publishing house. Both found the premise of the book appealing, but for reasons unstated, they weren’t ready to commit to publication just yet. The book needed a rewrite, they said—without giving the author any guidance on how or what to rewrite. I critiqued that novel, and the writer made many of the changes I suggested. Within one week, the publishing contract was hers.

I wish I could promise publishing success to everyone who contracts for a critique. I can’t, of course. But I can promise that your critique will show you how to make your work better. It will help you grow as a writer, and it will give you some valuable insights into how to build your work of fiction on a solid foundation, the same way you would a house.