Filed under Writing.
I love my beta readers. And cringe from their direct gaze. I don’t actually die, like the stories of Basilisks, but sometimes it feels like I wither a bit inside. You see, they catch me at all my wickedness (as a writer). My a voice in my head tells me when I need to add more description, or include more emotion, but another voice talks me out of what I know to be true. “It’s alright, the reader will get what you’re saying (describing, alluding to, etc.). But a beta reader will call me out, point directly at my glaringly lazy writing, and say…”You need to add more here.” Or “I don’t understand why the protagonist did X, Y, or Z” and inevitably I revise exactly the spots I knew were weak to begin with, at least 70% of what is put before me I knew. Why didn’t I fix it to begin with? I don’t know. I ask myself that every time. My head shakes sadly at myself. Maybe it’s inexperience, maybe it’s laziness. All I know is I’m so thankful to have good people around me who are willing to call me out on it. Right now, its my feet to the fire that refines my writing. Keep up the burn!