Lions and Tigers and Beta Readers, Oh My

Choosing to send my book off to beta readers felt less like a manuscript-sized weight off my shoulders and more like someone was ripping the pages out of my clenched fists.

But after many months and countless hours writing, my book is in a place where I can do no more in isolation.

Well, that’s not quite right. I could absolutely do more and I was trying to do more. But it wasn’t actually good things I was doing.

I was getting to a place where I was constantly tweaking this plot point, changing that wording, adding a section here, removing a section there. Without any real intention or plan. I was changing things for the sake of changing them. To make it feel new and fresh in my mind without really taking a step back and letting it breathe. I could feel my story become more disparate, less finished the longer I poked at it.

I was too close to the story. I was too in my head about finding the secret sauce that would finally make my book feel finished.

And what I realized was… I could not find that piece of the puzzle on my own. These characters, the world-building, the plot feels so real in my head. But (even though I would like to) I can’t scrub my brain of this information and read my story without all of that wonderful information and months of deep diving already baked in. I can’t be an unbiased reader experiencing my story for the first time.

I need other people for that.

I need other people to help me steer the ship. To find the weak points, to identify the areas of confusion, to help me improve.

And wow, oh wow was that hard for me.

In therapy, I talk a lot about control. It’s one of my lovely, little mental health quirks. Things that feel out of my control or in chaos are my enemy. I want to be able to predict the outcome of things, plan for those outcomes, and then create a semblance of consistency out of that chaos. Unfortunately, life doesn’t roll like that.

And that’s what this beta reader thing comes down to, doesn’t it? Control.

When this story was just my story that I could poke and prod into oblivion, I felt safer. But now that it’s in other people’s hands? Woof.

Being forced to sit back, wait, and let other people consume something that’s flawed is a bigger challenge than I expected it to be. Seeing the comments roll in has sent me into defense mode. It’s caused me to question my creative direction and my voice.

But the thing is, the comments haven’t been wrong or even that negative. And I’m usually pretty good at taking constructive feedback.

So what gives?

Well, I can tell you my theory at least.

Constructive criticism for my day job feels less personal because it’s stuff I don’t really care about. Or I do care because it’s my livelihood but I don’t view my day job as a core part of who I am. My job is the vehicle I’m using to get me to the purpose I feel that writing gives me.

So when the writing is critiqued? Oh, lordy. That shit is tough because I see it as so closely tied to my identity.

I’m a work in progress though. Just like my stories. Just like my novel. Just like my beta readers. We’ll keep working together - rescinding control, focusing on growth, trying not to shut myself away.

I’ve made so much progress by opening myself up in this way. The vulnerability to share my writing is a triumph in and of itself. And I don’t want to cheapen that by not being open to the opinions I’ve asked for. Time to stop trying to protect my own ego, and allow my own confidence in my work to ring stronger than the feedback that can be actioned on.

Onward and upward, beta readers!