Last week I put out a call for beta readers, and the most wonderful people in the world responded. Over the weekend I had plenty to keep me from obsessing about it, even though my mom and brother gave me comments the next day, and Ian over the weekend. Started on my one-page synopsis last night, using bullets to list the plot points that need to go in.
Now, I'm not trying to prompt a faster response here, just thinking out loud. I'm not impatient at all for the rest of the readers to get back with me. Seriously. I know, I'm always impatient, but I'm doing pretty well this time. I guess I've learned something after all in this long-ass-wait business of writing, even if it is just how to wait. This would be my first piece of advice to a new writer: Write it, release it, write something else.
It always floors me, how intimate a critique can feel. It's a shared embarrassment, like noticing someone's fly is open. The author's openness to harsh criticism, taking it like a woman and saying thank you at the end and meaning it. The critter's willingness to inflict that pain despite the cost to themselves, which could be at the least a lost afternoon and at the most a lost friendship. I've been both the author and the critter, and neither is without stress.
So I thank you, my critters, for being willing to point out my open fly.