(Probably) The worst question in the world

Over the last month, I've received ten requests to read something (usually a short story) written by an aspiring writer. When it happened the first couple of times, I was mostly bemused. Why ask me? I thought. I'm still figuring it all out myself, I just happened to get published along the way. I'm not an authority.

Then when it kept happening, I got increasingly worried. What if this doesn't stop?

I haven't handled it consistently, and I know it's because it's making a churning maelstrom of ick in my stomach, and that what I need to do is write this out. I think best in text form, after all.

What my gut is telling me

Whenever I get one of these requests, I feel an immediate, visceral cramp in my stomach. My body floods with tension. I'm learning to listen to these messages, so I know that something about this is upsetting me on a deep level. But why? Well, I think, like all these things, there's a line-up of several suspects.

Suspect 1: the bad memory

I remember being in exactly the same place as the people asking me to read their stuff. The vast majority have told me it's their first story – or the first few chapters of their first ever book, and please will I read it to see if it's worth carrying on? Wow, just typing that makes me feel sick with anxiety.

The bad memory starts with finishing my first novella. I was about 14, very screwed up, very damaged by some bad stuff that had happened in my family life. I had no idea whether it was good or not, I had just written it until it was out and I was proud of it. I'd only ever written very short stories, I'd abandoned more than I'd completed, so a story of about 30,000 words was a big deal.

I gave it to a family friend who was a lodger at the time. This was a very stupid thing to do, I realise now. She read it, and bless her heart, was positive, but the first thing she said was: "It's obviously all about you and your family."

It was like being hit with a sock stuffed full of stones. No, it wasn't about me, I thought. How could it be about me? It was science fiction! It was about a girl in space and – urgh, I can't bear to write about it even now.

Because she was right. The story was an emotional dumping ground, and I had no idea that I'd just bared my soul. And the story, the writing, everything about it sucked. I mean really sucked. I found it about ten years later and was so appalled by it I think I either threw it away or buried it somewhere – either way I have no knowledge of where it is now.

When I'm asked to read someone's early work, I am being placed in the impossible position that I placed that family friend in. I may say something that is another blossoming writer's stone-filled sock. I can't bear the thought of doing that, so I prefer not to say anything at all.

Subject 2: What is really being asked for here?

The thing is, as I remember what that feeling is like, I have a suspicion that people aren't entirely conscious of what they are really asking me to do. When you ask someone to read your story, you may be asking for any and all of these:

A detailed critique
A summary of good points and bad points
An appraisal of plot, form, suitability of POV
An opinion on how enjoyable it is
An indication of writing level
A line edit
A list of grammatical errors
A proof read
Just an opinion

That's confusing for the person being asked (and daunting) in and of itself, but beneath all of that, the person may also be asking for:

Validation
Personal reassurance that they can write
Encouragement
Emotional support as they tackle the creative blocks that have held them back thus far
The chance to be discovered as an amazing writing talent
Following on from that: an introduction to a publisher / editor / writing community
The start of a writing mentor relationship
Just a kind word from someone whose work they have enjoyed

Take the first half of that list; unless it is spelt out, any of those technically based appraisals could be given as the result of being asked to read someone's work. This is what professional editors, or brilliant beta readers do (more on them in a moment), not what I do, I'm afraid. I may have the technical knowledge to do it, don't get me wrong, but I use that knowledge to write my own work, and as much as it is lovely and flattering to be asked, I simply don't have enough hours in the day for my own projects, let alone being a lay editor.

It's the second half of the list that freaks me out though, on two counts: 1) that's a hell of a lot of emotional responsibility placed upon me and 2) I usually have never met these people, don't know them well and don't know where the boundaries are, leading me to:

Suspect 3: Where does it stop?

I have a fear that if I read someone's work and offer advice, a critique, a stock response, whatever I would choose to say, that the person would want more than I can give. I am a firm believer in good boundaries. If I did this professionally, I would first define whether I was a writing coach, a line editor, a developmental editor, a writing mentor, or just a mate trying to help you out. In each case, I would define my boundaries exactly. When someone asks me to read their work, I could find myself tangled in all kinds of emotional stuff, even if I was just trying to do the right thing. So I tend to not go there in the first place.

Suspect 4: The spectre of truth

I know that a detailed critique is not likely to be what a person wants. The thing is, I am a horribly critical reader. This is part of my job as a professional author; I read 5 or 6 books at a time, in every spare second of the day (and there's not many of them, believe me) and I am fussy as hell. There's realistically, being brutal here, a very high chance that I won't enjoy the story.

Let's say that I break my own rule and do read a story. What if it is exactly what an early story from a new writer is usually like: e.g. very flawed (like all of my first, second and third drafts are that no-one else ever sees).

So what do I say? How do I handle that? Do I only focus on the positives? There's a good argument for that, but then I worry that I wouldn't really be helping that person to improve. But if I suggest improvements, or problem areas (after all the positives) how do I know I'm not crushing something fragile? That's where suspects 2 and 3 come back in…

Oh the guilt!

Just writing this is stressing me out. The guilt is immense. I have a very large capacity for guilt, swelled into Baron Harkonnen-esque size by years of being a mother with severe post-natal depression. Every time someone asks me to read something and I want to run away, I am subsumed with guilt. I feel I'm letting them down, that I'm being aloof, that I'm not being what they need me to be, that I'm going to be hated for saying no.

Oh dear. That's not good, is it? And I don't feel it's fair for me to feel that way either. I haven't asked to be approached like this. That's why I'm writing this post, to explain it properly.

Memories of how I was helped in the early days

I think the guilt also comes from the fact that every writer, at some point, needs to be read by someone else to develop and improve their writing. I personally think most excited, new writers consider this point to be far earlier than it should be – I'll write another post about that soon actually. However, a critical thing that I hang on to is that the first person who started to read the very, very first draft of 20 Years Later asked me, again and again, to read it. I never asked her. And later beta readers of the more polished first drafts were volunteers again. I feel this is important.

So where does that leave the people who want me to read their stories?

I have this advice. Firstly, if this really is the first story / book / prologue you've written, don't show it to anyone. Print it out, hold it to your chest, feel proud of yourself and then put it in a drawer to mature for at least 3 months. Before I started writing 20 Years Later, I wrote about 50,000 words of complete and utter crap, just from clearing out all the accumulated rubbish of a 10 year long writer's block. Before that 10 years of writing desert, I estimate I wrote about 50,000-100,000 words of short stories as a child. They were rubbish too.

Those first few tens of thousands of words by any writer are likely to be utterly dreadful. There's no getting away from it, in my opinion, as like every skill, writing improves with practice. So put them in a drawer and move on, write another story, then another, then another. Three months later, go back to the first and I promise you'll see how much you've improved and you'll be so very glad no-one else saw it.

When you are ready (or if you really can't wait any longer) find a group of writers to hang out with, either on line or in the real world. If not writers, find people you feel comfortable with and sound them out on being a beta reader. Be very clear what you want them to tell you. Be very grateful. And be ready for some feedback that will hurt. Be ready to return the favour if you're doing this in a writing group, it's all give and take.

This is all hard as hell

I know because I've been there. I still can't beta read for other writers, due to all the stuff I've written about here, and I have a very close group of people who I trust with my early drafts and thank in my own way. It's taken a long time to find my process and people that I trust, and it will take you time too. When you find your beta readers, treat them like royalty; they are worth their weight in books.

So, I'm flattered that people (maybe even you) want me to read your work, but I really can't. I'm sorry, good luck, and I hope you understand. Just please remember that for some people, especially authors, "Please can you read my story?" is probably the worst question in the world.

If you have any questions about anything I've talked about here, ask away in the comments below. And fellow writers, do you struggle with this too?