I went to a critique meeting last night, where gracious and diligent fellow writers took time out of their busy social and writing scedules to give me insight into what I could do to improve the quality of roughly twenty pages of a novel I am currently working on. A few of these wonderful people had trouble with several aspects of the submission and were also making suggestions as to how I might improve logic and/or a few contradictions in character behavior. These were well thought out suggestions, given in the spirit of improving my work. What I should have done was to thank these spendid fellow writers for their efforts. My attitude should have been one of humble gratitude. What these folks got instead was crankiness--an old guy scowling and showing off his bad manners.
Truth is, these people were doing me a favor. They, first of all, they took time before coming to meet up by perusing my manuscript. They considered where I was trying to take my novel and using their God-given skills, went about trying to improve it. Then with pages in hand, they drove across town to enlighten me. Their intentions were pure, their reward should have been as well. I don't know when I lost sight of the fact that I'm lucky to have such folks in my life.
Heretofore, I resolve--at least until I figure out who this rude avatar is who keeps showing up--to listen with my mouth shut and my heart open. To consider that if these folks had trouble with the read, maybe just maybe they're on to something. And lastly to remember that the untimate decision as to what to leave in and what to take out will always be mine.
So for all you who have labored in the fileds of my writings both past and present--and even in the future if you'll have me--Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.