So I had my first story workshopped last night in class. It was gut-wrenching and heart-breaking. My fellow students are quite amazing, and all really good readers, which means they put the story through the gears and it will be the better for it. But I am so super-sensitive that it’s almost impossible for me to not take everything personally.
Here’s what I discovered:
1. I make up lame names. For some reason, the male protagonist is called Christian Meadows, and the female protagonist is called Eve. Yes. Christian Meadows. Eve. I did not even see the problem with it when I was writing it. Perhaps I should be writing Harlequin romances instead.
The names will need to be changed.
2. My sentences are too long. And I love long sentences. But shorter might be better, hence I’ll have to edit. We all know how I feel about editing.
3. I am no genius. This is of no surprise to anyone. Heh.
On the whole, it was a very positive experience, and one I’ll be repeating six or seven times during the course of the class, but ouch—if I could only get over my pathological shyness and actually not take the constructive criticism to heart. It hurts. Like a band-aid that comes off too early. Ouch.