A Critical Friend, or two, or three.

My group of critiquers are valued members of my writing crew. Each one gives me a different perspective and adds a unique insight into my story. Some will read through and give me an overall, general comment. Others will guide me with grammar and keeping those darn tenses in order. Some dive right in and let me know what is missing, pointing me to missing links and gaps in my storyline.

I am careful who I invite after story writing is not just a craft, it is a baby coming to life. I don't need criticism I need advice. So if I have invited you feel special. If not your time will come.

A good critique lands a few paper cuts and can sting a bit. However, it is not a death knell. One Aunt read a piece and said: "It is boring". That cut deep but on reflection I could see her point. I dwelt too long on a meaningless scene and had not yet learned the importance of pace.

I sent out my first chapter and recieved good pointers - example below.

In my original piece, I had a missing link. I was leaving the audience to guess at a relationship and needed more clarity. By identifying myself more in the opening I have clarified the link between Mary and my reason for writing about her.

A lot more tweaking will go on as I work on other chapters, go back and re-edit, add too and delete. All part of the process. Writing this blog is also part of the process, steeling my self, revealing the heart of my story, is revealing the inner self. No one writes without ego. It is a great exploration of an unknown continent. It is also about the journey and finishing. Writing stories takes guts. Finishing stories takes commitment. How good the story is at this stage is only in the writer's doubt wracked mind. This is where the friends prove their worth. They encourage and support, not with false praise but with constructive wisdom.

My oringinal opening paragraph

In the year 1806, King George III was recovering from his second bout of madness. The American Colonies were now lost to become a new Republic. The Napoleonic Wars 1803-1815 was the focus of the government. The great Naval Commander Lord Nelson lay in state in the Painted Hall of Greenwich Hospital, London. On March the 6th Elizabeth Barrett Browning was born. In the same year as these great moments and people in history, on 18 July 1806, Mary Davis was born. She would move from the slums of London to Australia, convicted and sentenced to 7 years transportation to Van Diemen's Land where she would marry the first of three husbands. Her life ended in South Australia and matriarch of a large family. Who was Mary Davis? What is her story? Every family has its secrets, its skeletons. Mary Davis is one of mine. I am of her flesh; her DNA is coded within me. How much of her past she hid from her family is unknown? However, with hindsight, anecdotes, (Leppard 2013) (Leppard 2013)and official documents, she slowly reveals her life and character. Mary is one of many. One of those silent voices that remain hidden in files and family stories. One of the many silent women forced by circumstance to travel to a new life in prison on the other side of the world. Her story is one of the many convict women who came to Australia and made life far from her family, entering a new world of harsh cruelty and degradation. She did not die. She lived a long life as a pioneer in the new Colony of South Australia.

My revised paragraph

In the year 1806, King George III was recovering from his second bout of madness. The American Colonies were now lost to become a new Republic. The Napoleonic Wars 1803-1815 was the focus of the government. The great Naval Commander Lord Nelson lay in state in the Painted Hall of Greenwich Hospital, London. On March the 6th Elizabeth Barrett Browning was born. In the same year on 18 July 1806, Mary Davis was born. She would move from the slums of London to Australia, convicted and sentenced to 7 years transportation to Van Diemen's Land where she would marry the first of three husbands. Her life ended in South Australia and matriarch of a large family. I am part of that family tree. Mary was my third great grandmother. In the beginning I knew nothing of her. She was a name, without detail, standing alone next to her husband Joseph Hatfield.

Who was Mary Davis? What is her story? Every family has its secrets, its skeletons. Mary Davis is one of mine. I am of her flesh; her DNA is coded within me. How much of her past she hid from her family is unknown? However, with hindsight, anecdotes, and official documents, she slowly reveals her life and character. Mary is one of many. One of those silent voices that remain hidden in files and family stories. One of the many silent women forced by circumstance to travel to a new life on the other side of the world. Her story is one of the many convict women who came to Australia and made life far from her family, entering a new world of harsh cruelty and degradation. She did not die. She lived a long life that ended as a pioneer in the new Colony of South Australia.