I've been critting a ton of stories recently. A lot of the crits have been for people I've never read before, and that's always scary — both for me and for the author. The author is putting their manuscript in my hands, and I'm doing my best to help them improve their work.

The key word in that last sentence is help. That's my intention with everything I read, but I'm the type of critter who likes to pour my thoughts out onto the page. When I receive a crit, I always find it helpful to learn what a reader is thinking when they get to certain points in the manuscript. That helps me decide if I accomplished what I intended to with a certain scene or snippet of dialogue. So in my mind, more comments = better crit.

But it occurred to me (yeah, like just now occurred to me) that others might not feel the same way, and I have this horrible worry that maybe I say too much. I always preface my remarks with things like This is just my opinion and These are only suggestions of things to think about, but sometimes, the critted manuscripts end up having solid comments down the margin of the first few pages. I'm feeling kind of dense because it's taken me so long to realize this might be intimidating to some people.

When it comes to crits, my skin is like iron (*knocks on wood* in case I just jinxed myself). You can tell me you despised my book, my heroine is too stupid to live, the hero is boring, the dialogue is cheesy, etc. I'm able to view your comments through a lens. It doesn't hurt me; it gives me things to think about. Would it be nice if you pointed out what you liked about my book, too? Sure. And that would make your crit overall more helpful to me, but it's definitely not a requirement. I'm totally cool with harsh crits.

A part of me — the nerdy part which is obsessed with statistics — wonders how many writers out there have skin as thick as mine. For example, what would be the breakdown if we classified ourselves into the following categories regarding the type of feedback we want:

1. thin – Just tell me the good stuff. I need all the encouragement I can get.
2. thinnish – Tell me mostly good stuff. I need to know what IS working.
3. normal – I need an equal balance of the good and the bad.
4. thickish – I want to know what's not working, but scatter in some encouragement.
5. thick – Nothing you can say will hurt me. Tell me EVERYTHING that's wrong.

I'm guessing most people here would say #4 — thickish. That's the skin thickness my crits are intended for, but I'm wondering if I should move towards #3 and crit with an equal amount of good and bad (I really hate the term “bad”) stuff, especially if the writer is just starting out. The last thing I want to do is discourage people from writing, but I don't like the idea of telling them only the good stuff either. I don't feel like that's helping them, and really, isn't the goal of critiquing to be helpful?

So you tell me: how thick is your skin? In other words, what type of feedback do you like in the crits you receive? What about in the crits you give? And does that level of feedback change if you're critting for someone who's relatively new to writing?

Sandy Wills is an urban fantasy author represented by Joanna Stampfel-Volpe. When she's not writing or reading romance novels, she can be found masquerading as a librarian, screaming at a rock concert, or kicking butt in the latest board games. She blogs on Livejournal and is a Twitter-addict.

If you've been writing long at all, you've heard the “pants vs. plotter” debate in some fashion. Flames can blow up on a writing group in a hurry about the proper way to write. Writers who don't plot break out in hives at the thought of spreadsheets; plotters wonder how the heck anyone without a solid synopsis in hand can ever find the end.

What I've learned over the years is that both sides of the camp are right.

I spent time early on looking for the right way to write. Like there was just one way, the Right Way. If I figured out that method and followed it faithfully, then I'd surely sell in a hurry. Looking back, I can only shake my head. Because what I've learned in the last seven years is that there is no right way — as long as you find your way to “the end.” In fact, every book seems to require a different process.

I've completed ten novels of various lengths, numerous short stories, and have five projects currently in my queue, and the only thing common about each of them: I wrote them. Every single one required a different skill or technique to complete.

At first, I thought this constant changing process was simply due to my gradual development as a writer. In the beginning, I was all pants. I scorned plotters. Ugh, spreadsheets! You're kidding, right? But over the years, I moved to serious plotting. For one project alone, I had three spreadsheets and four sheets of poster board stuck to the wall for my sticky-note plot!

I faithfully use the hero's journey. I've read all the recommended writing books from GMC to screenwriter's tips. So of course, as I learned more as a writer, my process changed. But here's the key: my process continues to change, because the journey of a writer never truly ends. We never stop learning and growing as we explore a new book.

Even now in my eighth year, I have a book that refuses to be plotted. At the same time, I have another project for which the only thing I've written is a monstrous synopsis — over 5K! One project is on notecards. Another is just a few notes in a folder.

Each book is different. It will test you in different ways and require something new of you. So don't stress out about how your process may be different from everyone else. Don't worry if one book isn't cooperating. Simply try a new technique to see if the words will flow. If you've never tried notecards, pick up a colored pack and play. If you absolutely love spreadsheets but find you're stuck with what happens in Act 3, try some free writing in a note book.

Grow those writing wings and don't be afraid to try something new.

Joely always has her nose buried in a book, especially one with mythology, fairy tales, and romance. She, her husband, and their three monsters live in Missouri. By day, she's a computer programmer with a Masters of Science degree in Mathematics. When night falls, she bespells the monsters so she can write. Find her on her website, Twitter, Facebook, and check out Scribd for free reads!

I think newsletters are fantastic. I've started one myself, and I'm still giving away A Happily Ever After of Her Own, a paranormal romance novella, to anyone who subscribes to it.

But I've been getting some that are more like spam than true newsletters. Here's how they manage to irritate me, and I don't suppose I'm alone in being annoyed:

1. I've never given explicit permission to be added to the list. Getting my email address from somewhere is not permission for you to spam me. Yes. SPAM. The word may sound harsh, but if you send unsolicited promotional email, it's spam. (And no, somebody sending you a private email once or twice does not constitute permission.)
2. I get a weekly email full of “buy this” or “buy that” that does not offer any value. Once a month is okay…maybe. Every week? No.
3. I cannot unsubscribe. I know some who mass email using the BCC field — even, God forbid, the CC field. Do not do this. Buy a newsletter service or install a script on your server that manages mass mailing lists. If I haven't given you explicit permission to add me to your list and if you send me email that I cannot unsubscribe from easily, I will report you to your ISP for abuse.

I know it's tempting to get your name out there, but really, a little common sense and courtesy will go a long way. You really don't want people associating your name with spam.

…you can't just assume you can get by with English.

I just went down to 7-11 (which BTW is one of my favorite places to shop in Japan) to get a night snack just now. There was a woman who kept asking the 7-11 night clerk how to use a public phone outside.

First of all, it's not his job since it's not a 7-11 phone. The unit is owned by NTT, which is the Japan equivalent of ATT. If she dials zero, an NTT operator will assist her. In Japanese.

Which brings me to my second point:

The Japanese speak Japanese. Japanese is Japan's standard language by law, and most Japanese people don't need to learn English after they leave college. How many of us can still speak the Spanish, French, etc. that we studied in school fluently?

Besides, if the store clerk spoke English well, he wouldn't be working the night shift at 7-11.

I helped the lady out, but please, when you come to Japan, bring a Japanese phrase book. It's going to make your time in the country so much better.