14 March 2010

Tough Love

Been awhile since I've attended the literary vivisection that is my biweekly critique group with something to read.  This week, I brought in a 996-word flash fiction piece, written to a story prompt I found online--sorry, but due to the rules of the forum, I can't post the prompt here.

Anyway, here's what the gang had to say...

  • I was unsatisfied with the working title I gave the story, but at least one reader thought it fit just fine.
  • As usual, at least one reader called my story "intriguing."
  • People liked my description of "bad college behavior," especially in regard to one peculiar substance.
  • That certain peculiar substance didn't click as much for a couple of readers as much as for the rest.  They understood how I used it; just didn't resonate, it seemed.
  • Only one reader out of eight seemed completely satisfied with how I ended the piece.  Most, even those who understood the implications, still thought the ending could've been "stronger" or "more clever."
A short critique for a short piece.  Sometimes, though, I don't feel I deserve the praise I sometimes get for my flash.  Flash seems to cover a multitude of sins, where my writing is concerned.  It makes sense--the more I write, the more that can go wrong.  But sometimes, I feel like the success--or lack thereof--of my longer pieces is more representative of my current abilities. Oh, well...