My name is Steven and I’m a failed writer.

I’m beginning today’s blog with another quote from someone else. I did the same thing yesterday and recommend that aspiring failed writers note this technique as one that screams, “Amateur.” It should be used only by failed writers and in Letters to the Editor (Webster’s Dictionary defines “pissed-off” as  . . . . ). Here’s the quote, which has been attributed to George Burns:

“Critics are like eunuchs at a gang bang.”

I first cited Burns’ observation more than fifteen years ago. I found it while editing a literary journal and used it as an inscription.  At the time I thought it more insulting to eunuchs than critics, but have since softened as critics were kind to me with my last book, Howling at the Moon, their praise temporarily elevating me from #2,346,514 to #1,789,344 on the Amazon sales list. Do the math. That’s an improvement of nearly 25% and I’d like to thank my wife for buying the one book that made it possible.

So, failed writers, do you need critics? They come in many forms, often disguised as fellow writers who are determined to improve your work by turning it into their work. This is why you need to be part of a Writers’ Group, which I have unnecessarily capitalized for emphasis (This stuff is free, aspiring failed writers. Soak it up.). I have been part of a Writer’s Group for twenty years and must say that I consistently find my colleagues wanting. We meet monthly and read our work to one another, usually a thousand words or a maybe two or three poems. Much of the work is new, but reworked pieces are offered, as well. Here’s the problem I have with these people: they are determined to make my writing better, asking questions about the interior logic of a piece, the motivation of its characters, what I intended it to be. They listen thoughtfully, take notes, and make an effort to keep things in context. This sort of approach is not helpful if one is to become a failed writer, and frankly, they have slowed my descent. Without them, there would have been so much more telling than showing, much less keeping of the reader beside the narrator, and don’t get me started on passive voice. I once had a shot at becoming the world’s champion in the use of passive voice, or as I might have written it before my Writers’ Group messed me up, the world’s champion in the use of passive voice was once something I had a shot at being.

I meet with my Writers’ Group next week and am already preparing myself by incorporating their past suggestions into the piece I intend to read. Why do this if I aspire to fail as a writer? Well, there’s just too much pressure. This is an accomplished group of writers who behave as if they are branches on a tree from which I’ve spilled, breaking my fall as I descend so that the ground will be less hard when the real critics have a go at me. In return, they expect honest and thoughtful appraisal of their own writing. They expect that I will not turn their work into my work, that I will point out too much telling rather than showing, voice my confusion when the narrator speeds ahead of the reader, and gently recommend less of my beloved passive voice. Rats!