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Wordsworth
I live in a church these days, just outside the remnants of a town whose name I cannot recall.
Fifty years ago, when I was but a priest in training, I knew that grass was green. Venturing several years further back, I would play in the grass with my friends. I would roll around in the fields and feel the blades of grass between my fingers. It filled me with calm joy, to feel the slightest touch of His creation—a kind of joy that my friends, by and large, did not understand.
When I began my duty as the keeper of my church, the fact that I would be surrounded by greenery came to me as so splendid that in time I started taking it for granted.
Now I run a semi-decrepit thing that can perhaps be called a church. Within this same building I also run the only library for at least a hundred miles. I have not seen a library that is not my own in quite some time.
People of all walks of life come to my home, out of some curiosity. Parents, beggars, nomads, thieves, whores, entertainers. But for the most part these are uneducated people, too young to remember what it meant to go to school for any amount of time. Too young to remember what it meant to shop for food at a grocery store. Too young to remember what it's like to lie in a field of grass and run one's fingers over the leaves.
Most people I've met have little idea as to what a book is. "What is reading like?" some of them ask. What is reading supposed to mean to these people?
I cannot judge them harshly, though. As with the subtle wonders of nature, I did not respect books as much in my youth as I do now. Make no mistake, I used to read with almost a voracious appetite, but I did not know what it meant to open a book, to flip through its pages, to feel the surface of every page, to read every word as if the act were holy. How could I possibly know that such a common experience could become so rare?
After the calamity, after I had lost nearly everything dear to me, I went about my life in a daze for what must have been months. The calamity did not just affect me personally, but also everyone I knew and everyone I knew not. I began to wonder, during those lost months, if God had played a cruel trick on me, or if I had chosen to believe in a fabrication, and that the true creator of the universe was a malicious child. Ultimately I chose to keep my faith, however strenuous it was to do so at first. Even more strenuous was helping to keep the faith of others—many of whom decided, reasonably enough, to abandon any notion that God loved them.
Faith was the first to die, followed in time by literacy.
Indeed it took a terribly long time for me to open a book again, yet as I recall this incident now I imagine it with terrific clarity. The book was a dog-eared copy of The Collected Poems of William Wordsworth. I am not sure what compelled me, but I started to read one poem, line by line in a painful fashion, and then another. An hour later it occurred to me that my eyes had become reddened, and that there were traces of tears on my cheeks.
I spent that entire night, until early in the morning, consuming what literature I had on hand. Wordsworth, Whitman, Austen, Eliot, Faulkner, Proust, Morrison, Vonnegut. The Book of Psalms rang true to me for the first time in so long, I was practically driven to tears yet again.
In the years since that fateful night I have tried with all my strength to gather what books I could recover from the wreckage of our world. Even the low-brow books. Even the pornographic books. Sinful to encourage the reading of such material? Maybe—but it is far more sinful to let these children die, for every book is a child waiting to live a long and fruitful life.
Since restoring faith in God seems all but impossible today, I have instead dedicated myself to teaching others how to read and how to lose themselves in the Word. Yet the Word is not merely the Bible, but in fact every written word.
Amen.
Fifty years ago, when I was but a priest in training, I knew that grass was green. Venturing several years further back, I would play in the grass with my friends. I would roll around in the fields and feel the blades of grass between my fingers. It filled me with calm joy, to feel the slightest touch of His creation—a kind of joy that my friends, by and large, did not understand.
When I began my duty as the keeper of my church, the fact that I would be surrounded by greenery came to me as so splendid that in time I started taking it for granted.
Now I run a semi-decrepit thing that can perhaps be called a church. Within this same building I also run the only library for at least a hundred miles. I have not seen a library that is not my own in quite some time.
People of all walks of life come to my home, out of some curiosity. Parents, beggars, nomads, thieves, whores, entertainers. But for the most part these are uneducated people, too young to remember what it meant to go to school for any amount of time. Too young to remember what it meant to shop for food at a grocery store. Too young to remember what it's like to lie in a field of grass and run one's fingers over the leaves.
Most people I've met have little idea as to what a book is. "What is reading like?" some of them ask. What is reading supposed to mean to these people?
I cannot judge them harshly, though. As with the subtle wonders of nature, I did not respect books as much in my youth as I do now. Make no mistake, I used to read with almost a voracious appetite, but I did not know what it meant to open a book, to flip through its pages, to feel the surface of every page, to read every word as if the act were holy. How could I possibly know that such a common experience could become so rare?
After the calamity, after I had lost nearly everything dear to me, I went about my life in a daze for what must have been months. The calamity did not just affect me personally, but also everyone I knew and everyone I knew not. I began to wonder, during those lost months, if God had played a cruel trick on me, or if I had chosen to believe in a fabrication, and that the true creator of the universe was a malicious child. Ultimately I chose to keep my faith, however strenuous it was to do so at first. Even more strenuous was helping to keep the faith of others—many of whom decided, reasonably enough, to abandon any notion that God loved them.
Faith was the first to die, followed in time by literacy.
Indeed it took a terribly long time for me to open a book again, yet as I recall this incident now I imagine it with terrific clarity. The book was a dog-eared copy of The Collected Poems of William Wordsworth. I am not sure what compelled me, but I started to read one poem, line by line in a painful fashion, and then another. An hour later it occurred to me that my eyes had become reddened, and that there were traces of tears on my cheeks.
I spent that entire night, until early in the morning, consuming what literature I had on hand. Wordsworth, Whitman, Austen, Eliot, Faulkner, Proust, Morrison, Vonnegut. The Book of Psalms rang true to me for the first time in so long, I was practically driven to tears yet again.
In the years since that fateful night I have tried with all my strength to gather what books I could recover from the wreckage of our world. Even the low-brow books. Even the pornographic books. Sinful to encourage the reading of such material? Maybe—but it is far more sinful to let these children die, for every book is a child waiting to live a long and fruitful life.
Since restoring faith in God seems all but impossible today, I have instead dedicated myself to teaching others how to read and how to lose themselves in the Word. Yet the Word is not merely the Bible, but in fact every written word.
Amen.
I really like the idea of this story, and I'm digging how you decided to execute it with this spoken-word feel. It really gives the piece a sense of character.
Still, I have to admit that my attention did wander a bit on my first read-through. There is, in the end, very little story here. There doesn't seem to be an escalation of stakes, central conflict, or any significant twist outside of the premise itself being a little obscured at first. What I'm trying to say is, there isn't much that immediately draws my attention. So while the end message is nice, the journey to get there feels a little dulled and perfunctory, in a way.
I'd strongly suggest implanting a few more narrative bones into this piece to give it some more shape. Have the narrator talk about a specific aspect of his faith that was shaken and eventually killed, instead of talking about it vaguely. You've spent a lot of your word count (especially the first two-fifths or so) on mood-building, to the point that I think you can spare a bit of it for a more concrete anecdote or two about the priest's life.
In the end, I think the piece just lacks a bit of sense of flow. There doesn't seem to be a real beginning or middle, so the ending just can't keep up.
Still, I have to admit that my attention did wander a bit on my first read-through. There is, in the end, very little story here. There doesn't seem to be an escalation of stakes, central conflict, or any significant twist outside of the premise itself being a little obscured at first. What I'm trying to say is, there isn't much that immediately draws my attention. So while the end message is nice, the journey to get there feels a little dulled and perfunctory, in a way.
I'd strongly suggest implanting a few more narrative bones into this piece to give it some more shape. Have the narrator talk about a specific aspect of his faith that was shaken and eventually killed, instead of talking about it vaguely. You've spent a lot of your word count (especially the first two-fifths or so) on mood-building, to the point that I think you can spare a bit of it for a more concrete anecdote or two about the priest's life.
In the end, I think the piece just lacks a bit of sense of flow. There doesn't seem to be a real beginning or middle, so the ending just can't keep up.
The idea of books being the most precious items surviving a cataclysm is not new – I'd even say it’s somewhat tired at this point – and this story hardly adds anything new to the treatment of the concept. It is, however, technically sound, so yeah, it’s going to land mid-slate. I can’t rate it high, but I can’t rate it low either, so around the midpoint seems fair to me.
Herein was a good idea that was competently executed, but for one major flaw. All assertions in a story must be believable from the point of view of the reader as well as the POV character. I liked where you were going with this, but an assertion like the following must be substantiated or the entire story unravels:
It may have been absolutely true in the context of the story. I am not arguing that. Another writer on this website introduced me to the term lampshading (linked). Your assertion goes completely against my understanding of human nature—faith will be the first to flourish following catastrophe—so, you must, must, must, show or say why not so I can willing suspend disbelief (pun intended). You didn't do that. All verisimilitude was lost. For the lack of a couple dozen words...
Filling in the blank, as I must only do in the context of writing a critique. i.e., assuming that you had substantiated the assertion, everything else about the story felt solid. Needless to say, I can't rank your story based on what you might have written.
Faith was the first to die...
It may have been absolutely true in the context of the story. I am not arguing that. Another writer on this website introduced me to the term lampshading (linked). Your assertion goes completely against my understanding of human nature—faith will be the first to flourish following catastrophe—so, you must, must, must, show or say why not so I can willing suspend disbelief (pun intended). You didn't do that. All verisimilitude was lost. For the lack of a couple dozen words...
Filling in the blank, as I must only do in the context of writing a critique. i.e., assuming that you had substantiated the assertion, everything else about the story felt solid. Needless to say, I can't rank your story based on what you might have written.
>>scifipony
It's late, and a few hours away from results, but on the off chance that you're not commenting on your own entry to throw us off:
I really do think that this is a strange issue to have with the story. I imagine you must be passionate about your conception of human nature, or else this one line wouldn't have caught your eye so much. Isn't it a common trope in post-apocalyptic fiction, video games, and so on that the resulting world is a lawless, faithless place? Historically, did movements like existentialism not flourish after great calamities like World War II, horrific events which made people question whether God could preside over such a world? In any case, the author never reveals what kind of calamity struck the world, nor do I think this entry is supposed to prompt a debate about human nature. But maybe that's part of your issue with the story. I just think this is an odd snippet to break the story over.
It's late, and a few hours away from results, but on the off chance that you're not commenting on your own entry to throw us off:
I really do think that this is a strange issue to have with the story. I imagine you must be passionate about your conception of human nature, or else this one line wouldn't have caught your eye so much. Isn't it a common trope in post-apocalyptic fiction, video games, and so on that the resulting world is a lawless, faithless place? Historically, did movements like existentialism not flourish after great calamities like World War II, horrific events which made people question whether God could preside over such a world? In any case, the author never reveals what kind of calamity struck the world, nor do I think this entry is supposed to prompt a debate about human nature. But maybe that's part of your issue with the story. I just think this is an odd snippet to break the story over.
>>scifipony I imagine >>Oblomov's comment here is a very polite way of saying "what the hell are you even talking about?" And I'm going to ask it less politely: What the hell are you even talking about?
I mean, I just got here, I'm not participating in this round, and I have no dog in this fight. Admittedly. I just pulled up this thread on a whim, and when I saw this snippet pop up in your review...
...I couldn't not say something. Because you're saying that this story has a major narrative failing based on your own entirely subjective interpretation of human nature. I'm not going to get baited into a philosophical argument about the heart of mankind and faith and what-not; I'm only saying that arguing that's a universally established truth, and criticizing that story for not following that truth, when it is entirely based on your own point of view and your own beliefs, and basing your voting on that, is asinine.
That's like if I reviewed a story with a left-handed male protagonist, and said "yeah, this was okay, but everybody knows that left-handed men are children of the Devil, and your protagonist didn't strangle any nuns to death with his left hand while gesturing lewdly with his right, so you really just torpedoed any claim to realism your story had, sorry sweaty :/"
I mean, I just got here, I'm not participating in this round, and I have no dog in this fight. Admittedly. I just pulled up this thread on a whim, and when I saw this snippet pop up in your review...
Your assertion goes completely against my understanding of human nature—faith will be the first to flourish following catastrophe—so, you must, must, must, show or say why not so I can willing suspend disbelief (pun intended).
...I couldn't not say something. Because you're saying that this story has a major narrative failing based on your own entirely subjective interpretation of human nature. I'm not going to get baited into a philosophical argument about the heart of mankind and faith and what-not; I'm only saying that arguing that's a universally established truth, and criticizing that story for not following that truth, when it is entirely based on your own point of view and your own beliefs, and basing your voting on that, is asinine.
That's like if I reviewed a story with a left-handed male protagonist, and said "yeah, this was okay, but everybody knows that left-handed men are children of the Devil, and your protagonist didn't strangle any nuns to death with his left hand while gesturing lewdly with his right, so you really just torpedoed any claim to realism your story had, sorry sweaty :/"
>>Posh
I do not read other's critiques before or after I write my own. My critique is and can only be taken as what one reader understood reading a story without the influences of others. It is a dialog between me and the author alone.
A critique is by definition a different, yes biased, point of view that allows a writer to know the affect his or her words have had on another's mind, to dismiss or use the insight as he or she sees fit. I endeavor never to attack and to state my plain unvarnished thoughts.
And, you misunderstood. I could have speculated on how the author might have substantiated the assertion that kicked me out of the story, but that would be my edit of the author's writing. I rated the story on what I read, not what I thought the writer was capable of doing to fix my objection should he or she have considered my thoughts on the subject even worthy of the effort. To have withheld the one thing that for me ruined a great story would have been a grave disservice. To not have stated my opinion that simple lampshading could have fixed it would have been condescending. Mine was an opinion and my language plainly states that.
I suggest you think long and hard before you next critique another's work. Would you really censor yourself and not share information as I did? Do you think the author is fragile flower incapable of considering me a fool if he or she disagrees, or of wondering "why did he say that?" Certainly you should think about this before you receive your next critique because it is not for the faint of heart.
I do not read other's critiques before or after I write my own. My critique is and can only be taken as what one reader understood reading a story without the influences of others. It is a dialog between me and the author alone.
A critique is by definition a different, yes biased, point of view that allows a writer to know the affect his or her words have had on another's mind, to dismiss or use the insight as he or she sees fit. I endeavor never to attack and to state my plain unvarnished thoughts.
And, you misunderstood. I could have speculated on how the author might have substantiated the assertion that kicked me out of the story, but that would be my edit of the author's writing. I rated the story on what I read, not what I thought the writer was capable of doing to fix my objection should he or she have considered my thoughts on the subject even worthy of the effort. To have withheld the one thing that for me ruined a great story would have been a grave disservice. To not have stated my opinion that simple lampshading could have fixed it would have been condescending. Mine was an opinion and my language plainly states that.
I suggest you think long and hard before you next critique another's work. Would you really censor yourself and not share information as I did? Do you think the author is fragile flower incapable of considering me a fool if he or she disagrees, or of wondering "why did he say that?" Certainly you should think about this before you receive your next critique because it is not for the faint of heart.
>>Oblomov
For me, to hold back an opinion in a critique is wrong. It is up to the author alone to assess its validity to his or her work. My point is that an assertion such as cited without explanation or lampshading to one reader's experience gravely hurt the story. It is up to the author to accept or discard my observations; better yet, to try to figure out why one in ten readers thought not substantiating it ruined the story.
For the record,I disagree that being a common trope in games and fiction makes it accepted wisdom. And the why a game designer chose to assert that is important (possibly to simplify narrative) or an author, probably to make a point about the human condition. My guess is re-examining your citations might find a finer grain meaning than the trope itself.
For me, to hold back an opinion in a critique is wrong. It is up to the author alone to assess its validity to his or her work. My point is that an assertion such as cited without explanation or lampshading to one reader's experience gravely hurt the story. It is up to the author to accept or discard my observations; better yet, to try to figure out why one in ten readers thought not substantiating it ruined the story.
For the record,I disagree that being a common trope in games and fiction makes it accepted wisdom. And the why a game designer chose to assert that is important (possibly to simplify narrative) or an author, probably to make a point about the human condition. My guess is re-examining your citations might find a finer grain meaning than the trope itself.
>>scifipony
This is not a sacred, privileged conversation between you and No Raisin about his writing. The general premise under which the writeoff operates is that, whenever you review a story, people will read that review, and if they disagree with it, then people will debate you about your review. This debate can often be beneficial to the author, because in watching other people raise and debate possible flaws in their writing, they understand points of contention.
Yes, of course. You're supposed to speak your mind and to refrain from attacking someone. We are all adults, and we are all capable of withstanding critique without suffering gross, psychic damage. This is another general premise under which the writeoff operates.
Yes, you correctly identified your subjective philosophical point as what it was. Subjectivity and bias color everybody's readings of everything. However, in this instance, applying your subjective, philosophical point of view to this story has yielded a skewed reading.
Because as you, yourself, correctly pointed out, regardless of how you feel about it, "it may be true in the context of this story." To follow that up by saying "all verisimilitude is lost" is to contradict your own point. You're also failing to account for the possibility that, just as you have your own perspective, the narrator has their own perspective as well. You're arguing with the message of the story, and the beliefs of a fictional character, rather than reviewing how effectively it's presented said argument.
Which isn't to imply that there are no circumstances where it's okay to debate a story's philosophy; I don't think that I could get through Atlas Shrugged without wanting to hurl the book across the room with great force. I'd probably also recuse myself from rating it if it came up on my writeoff slate, however.
Because, you know, that option does exist.
Here's another frank, constructive comment that I hope you take to heart: Cut this patronizing attitude out. Nobody here is complaining because you deliver "unvarnished, constructive criticism." I'm taking issue with you because you're condescending and pretentious.
You approach every single comment as though you're visiting some sort of profound truth upon the writer, which you are uniquely capable of giving. And you've given a lot of good, valuable feedback in these competitions, I'll grant, but just as often, your reviews are based on some kind of... of super subjective interpretation of the subject matter, or based on fundamental misreadings of the material, or based on nitpicks and issues that literally nobody else has identified as issues. And you still think you're being profound, and you have the sheer audacity to talk down to me for calling you out on it.
In a metaphor: No Raisin is building a house. As a community, we bring materials to help him build the house. Oblomov brings nails. Horizon brings lumber. Monokeras brings French labor laws to keep us from being exploited by corporations.
You? You've brought ten wheelbarrows full of cotton candy. "For insulation," you say, smugly, as though you're doing Raisin a favor.
Except the only thing that happens, at the end of the day, is that a landfill gets just a little bit sweeter.
>>scifipony
I am trying very, very hard to retain even a semblance of civility, but watching you patronize someone else, whom I know to be well-educated and literate and not somebody simply chucking generalities around like a frat boy at a party chucks cherry-flavored prophylactics, is making me legitimately angry. Consider rephrasing whilst I scream into my pillow.
You might also crack a book about Dada, while you're at it. You know, "reexamine your citations." (:
I do not read other's critiques before or after I write my own. My critique is and can only be taken as what one reader understood reading a story without the influences of others. It is a dialog between me and the author alone.
This is not a sacred, privileged conversation between you and No Raisin about his writing. The general premise under which the writeoff operates is that, whenever you review a story, people will read that review, and if they disagree with it, then people will debate you about your review. This debate can often be beneficial to the author, because in watching other people raise and debate possible flaws in their writing, they understand points of contention.
A critique is by definition a different, yes biased, point of view that allows a writer to know the affect his or her words have had on another's mind, to dismiss or use the insight as he or she sees fit. I endeavor never to attack and to state my plain unvarnished thoughts.
Yes, of course. You're supposed to speak your mind and to refrain from attacking someone. We are all adults, and we are all capable of withstanding critique without suffering gross, psychic damage. This is another general premise under which the writeoff operates.
To have withheld the one thing that for me ruined a great story would have been a grave disservice. To not have stated my opinion that simple lampshading could have fixed it would have been condescending. Mine was an opinion and my language plainly states that.
Yes, you correctly identified your subjective philosophical point as what it was. Subjectivity and bias color everybody's readings of everything. However, in this instance, applying your subjective, philosophical point of view to this story has yielded a skewed reading.
Because as you, yourself, correctly pointed out, regardless of how you feel about it, "it may be true in the context of this story." To follow that up by saying "all verisimilitude is lost" is to contradict your own point. You're also failing to account for the possibility that, just as you have your own perspective, the narrator has their own perspective as well. You're arguing with the message of the story, and the beliefs of a fictional character, rather than reviewing how effectively it's presented said argument.
Which isn't to imply that there are no circumstances where it's okay to debate a story's philosophy; I don't think that I could get through Atlas Shrugged without wanting to hurl the book across the room with great force. I'd probably also recuse myself from rating it if it came up on my writeoff slate, however.
Because, you know, that option does exist.
I suggest you think long and hard before you next critique another's work. Would you really censor yourself and not share information as I did? Do you think the author is fragile flower incapable of considering me a fool if he or she disagrees, or of wondering "why did he say that?" Certainly you should think about this before you receive your next critique because it is not for the faint of heart.
Here's another frank, constructive comment that I hope you take to heart: Cut this patronizing attitude out. Nobody here is complaining because you deliver "unvarnished, constructive criticism." I'm taking issue with you because you're condescending and pretentious.
You approach every single comment as though you're visiting some sort of profound truth upon the writer, which you are uniquely capable of giving. And you've given a lot of good, valuable feedback in these competitions, I'll grant, but just as often, your reviews are based on some kind of... of super subjective interpretation of the subject matter, or based on fundamental misreadings of the material, or based on nitpicks and issues that literally nobody else has identified as issues. And you still think you're being profound, and you have the sheer audacity to talk down to me for calling you out on it.
In a metaphor: No Raisin is building a house. As a community, we bring materials to help him build the house. Oblomov brings nails. Horizon brings lumber. Monokeras brings French labor laws to keep us from being exploited by corporations.
You? You've brought ten wheelbarrows full of cotton candy. "For insulation," you say, smugly, as though you're doing Raisin a favor.
Except the only thing that happens, at the end of the day, is that a landfill gets just a little bit sweeter.
>>scifipony
For the record,I disagree that being a common trope in games and fiction makes it accepted wisdom.
My guess is re-examining your citations might find a finer grain meaning than the trope itself.
I am trying very, very hard to retain even a semblance of civility, but watching you patronize someone else, whom I know to be well-educated and literate and not somebody simply chucking generalities around like a frat boy at a party chucks cherry-flavored prophylactics, is making me legitimately angry. Consider rephrasing whilst I scream into my pillow.
You might also crack a book about Dada, while you're at it. You know, "reexamine your citations." (:
The round's been over for like a day now, and I have to say I almost didn't even want to write a retrospective for this. That is, until I got a good whiff of the thread that's been going on here.
>>scifipony
I'm gonna go through every one of your comments, because I want you to understand where I, the author here, am coming from. I want you to know that what you've said has provoked a lot of feelings in me, from frustration to scorn. The reason why I'm doing this is because you could've easily course-corrected yourself after your opening salvo, but you chose not to. With each response to Oblomov and Posh you've chosen to dig yourself a deeper hole.
Let's get started.
Why must this be the case? Actually, let's rewind just a tad. Why is the following line considered an assertion? On whose part? It would have to be mine, because the priest is merely recounting what happened in his world, the fictional world of the story. The assertion you say I'm making here is that in a post-apocalypse scenario, faith would take a heavy hit pretty much right off the bat. Most people would rightfully go along with this, but let's continue before I explain why that is.
No. That's not how it works. I am under absolutely zero obligation to cater to your worldview in my fiction, contentious as your worldview is. You say you believe that faith would flourish in the aftermath of a global catastrophe, yet you give absolutely nothing for why this must be true. I'm not saying it can't be true, but why in God's name should I be expected to change my story, in some way on a fundamental level (given what the story is about), to reinforce what you consider a personal truth?
You seem to be conflating what you believe with what will most likely be the logical outcome.
You imply here that you ranked my story based on a completely subjective point, a point that seems to rely more on you than the story itself. This borders on infuriating. Your first comment here is actually counterproductive, in the sense that I can't be expected to improve my story, but rather make it worse, just to appeal to your niche worldview.
But it gets worse...
You say this as if you deserve brownie points for your honesty. Not gonna happen.
Again you seem to be conflating how the story diverges from your worldview with the quality of the story. What's frustrating here is that you also seem to be on the cusp of acknowledging that your criticism has been bogus so far, but you take a step back just in time to reinforce the fact that the problem you have is not with the story.
Once again you give yourself a pat on the back for your honesty, as if honesty in WriteOff criticism should be considered a minor achievement and not the bare minimum. Congratulations, you have reached the bare minimum of WriteOff criticism. You are right about one thing here, though: I have the right to disagree with you and consider you a fool in this situation.
Nope. Granted, this comes down to how much authoritative power you believe the author to have, but depending on where you come from I'd be either the first or last person to judge criticism of my work. Criticism of criticism, if that makes any sense, should be left up to the people and not just the creator of the work that was originally criticized. What you're saying here sounds something like, "Only God can judge me," which to me always sounded like an empty "fuck the haters" sentiment that is only used to deflect criticism of oneself.
Seeing as how I'm here, though, according to your own beliefs I'm in the perfect position to criticize you.
The reason why the "faith dies" trope is common in post-apocalypse fiction is because it makes sense. Not only does it make sense but it gives both the storytellers and consumers a lot of thematic meat to chew on. Commenting on the human condition and all that. So you disagree with that being the commonly accepted route, fine. But at the same time you pin the thing that "ruins" my story on something that, in all honesty, checks out.
What you ask of me is to make my story worse in order to accommodate what you see as the "correct" worldview, which for one I disagree heavily with, and two most readers would find what you suggest to make less sense than what we have now. Also, don't treat Oblomov like some semi-illiterate charlatan; he's a bright lad, and he deserves better than what you've given him so far.
Then again, I wouldn't wish the critique you gave of my story on even my worst enemies. If we're judging criticism by how helpful it is to the author in refining their skills and crafting a better story, your criticism has been the worst.
Just... the worst.
>>scifipony
I'm gonna go through every one of your comments, because I want you to understand where I, the author here, am coming from. I want you to know that what you've said has provoked a lot of feelings in me, from frustration to scorn. The reason why I'm doing this is because you could've easily course-corrected yourself after your opening salvo, but you chose not to. With each response to Oblomov and Posh you've chosen to dig yourself a deeper hole.
Let's get started.
I liked where you were going with this, but an assertion like the following must be substantiated or the entire story unravels:
Why must this be the case? Actually, let's rewind just a tad. Why is the following line considered an assertion? On whose part? It would have to be mine, because the priest is merely recounting what happened in his world, the fictional world of the story. The assertion you say I'm making here is that in a post-apocalypse scenario, faith would take a heavy hit pretty much right off the bat. Most people would rightfully go along with this, but let's continue before I explain why that is.
Your assertion goes completely against my understanding of human nature—faith will be the first to flourish following catastrophe—so, you must, must, must, show or say why not so I can willing suspend disbelief (pun intended).
No. That's not how it works. I am under absolutely zero obligation to cater to your worldview in my fiction, contentious as your worldview is. You say you believe that faith would flourish in the aftermath of a global catastrophe, yet you give absolutely nothing for why this must be true. I'm not saying it can't be true, but why in God's name should I be expected to change my story, in some way on a fundamental level (given what the story is about), to reinforce what you consider a personal truth?
You seem to be conflating what you believe with what will most likely be the logical outcome.
Needless to say, I can't rank your story based on what you might have written.
You imply here that you ranked my story based on a completely subjective point, a point that seems to rely more on you than the story itself. This borders on infuriating. Your first comment here is actually counterproductive, in the sense that I can't be expected to improve my story, but rather make it worse, just to appeal to your niche worldview.
But it gets worse...
A critique is by definition a different, yes biased, point of view that allows a writer to know the affect his or her words have had on another's mind, to dismiss or use the insight as he or she sees fit. I endeavor never to attack and to state my plain unvarnished thoughts.
You say this as if you deserve brownie points for your honesty. Not gonna happen.
To have withheld the one thing that for me ruined a great story would have been a grave disservice.
Again you seem to be conflating how the story diverges from your worldview with the quality of the story. What's frustrating here is that you also seem to be on the cusp of acknowledging that your criticism has been bogus so far, but you take a step back just in time to reinforce the fact that the problem you have is not with the story.
I suggest you think long and hard before you next critique another's work. Would you really censor yourself and not share information as I did? Do you think the author is fragile flower incapable of considering me a fool if he or she disagrees, or of wondering "why did he say that?" Certainly you should think about this before you receive your next critique because it is not for the faint of heart.
Once again you give yourself a pat on the back for your honesty, as if honesty in WriteOff criticism should be considered a minor achievement and not the bare minimum. Congratulations, you have reached the bare minimum of WriteOff criticism. You are right about one thing here, though: I have the right to disagree with you and consider you a fool in this situation.
It is up to the author alone to assess its validity to his or her work.
Nope. Granted, this comes down to how much authoritative power you believe the author to have, but depending on where you come from I'd be either the first or last person to judge criticism of my work. Criticism of criticism, if that makes any sense, should be left up to the people and not just the creator of the work that was originally criticized. What you're saying here sounds something like, "Only God can judge me," which to me always sounded like an empty "fuck the haters" sentiment that is only used to deflect criticism of oneself.
Seeing as how I'm here, though, according to your own beliefs I'm in the perfect position to criticize you.
For the record,I disagree that being a common trope in games and fiction makes it accepted wisdom. And the why a game designer chose to assert that is important (possibly to simplify narrative) or an author, probably to make a point about the human condition.
The reason why the "faith dies" trope is common in post-apocalypse fiction is because it makes sense. Not only does it make sense but it gives both the storytellers and consumers a lot of thematic meat to chew on. Commenting on the human condition and all that. So you disagree with that being the commonly accepted route, fine. But at the same time you pin the thing that "ruins" my story on something that, in all honesty, checks out.
What you ask of me is to make my story worse in order to accommodate what you see as the "correct" worldview, which for one I disagree heavily with, and two most readers would find what you suggest to make less sense than what we have now. Also, don't treat Oblomov like some semi-illiterate charlatan; he's a bright lad, and he deserves better than what you've given him so far.
Then again, I wouldn't wish the critique you gave of my story on even my worst enemies. If we're judging criticism by how helpful it is to the author in refining their skills and crafting a better story, your criticism has been the worst.
Just... the worst.
>>No_Raisin
Critique, receiving or giving, must be an egoless pursuit. This is my opinion from decades of experience. I still feel awful when I receive unsettling critiques, but I still ask for them.
When you receive a critique it is best to look at what you are given back as one reader's response to reading your work—nothing more. The critic's words are neither right nor wrong. Further, it is up to you to decide if it is even relevant to you. If not, discard it. I like to deduce why my writing caused unexpected reactions or misconceptions. I never attack the critic as being wrong-headed.
Regardless, I've been trained to give and take critiques in the Clarion method and have run a few workshops. I've had newbies break into tears and throw-up, and I do my best to prevent that by going over certain ground rules.
Giving:
1) Never attack the author.
2) Discuss anything that doesn't work.
3) Explain what you think may have fixed it, but don't rewrite the story.
4) Don't copyedit.
Receiving:
1) When you receive a critique, the best response is to only say "Thank you."
2) Only if you don't understand something written, or the critic skipped something you wanted commented upon, ask specifics.
3) Never justify your position as the critic obviously didn't get what you meant from what you wrote.
4) Never attack the critic. You've gotten back your words processed through the critic's brain and that's valuable.
5) Never take it personally.
If you cannot divorce your ego from your writing when asking for a critique, you will lose receiving the perspective of a reader who read, processed your words, and is willing to tell you what he or she thought. Take your work to a friend or relative if you want nice, not to a colleague as you did here.
Last, I will point out that I said:
Note I emphasized "my understanding". That's because... that's my opinion (not yours). If fact, what I shared in my critique and my replies is all my opinion, including the "must, must, must" bit. (It's an MLP reference and was meant to be humorous.) I honestly stand-by my advice about lampshading. You might ask yourself why did he feel this way? You might even ask me. Or you could discard it as irrelevant.
Critique, receiving or giving, must be an egoless pursuit. This is my opinion from decades of experience. I still feel awful when I receive unsettling critiques, but I still ask for them.
When you receive a critique it is best to look at what you are given back as one reader's response to reading your work—nothing more. The critic's words are neither right nor wrong. Further, it is up to you to decide if it is even relevant to you. If not, discard it. I like to deduce why my writing caused unexpected reactions or misconceptions. I never attack the critic as being wrong-headed.
Regardless, I've been trained to give and take critiques in the Clarion method and have run a few workshops. I've had newbies break into tears and throw-up, and I do my best to prevent that by going over certain ground rules.
Giving:
1) Never attack the author.
2) Discuss anything that doesn't work.
3) Explain what you think may have fixed it, but don't rewrite the story.
4) Don't copyedit.
Receiving:
1) When you receive a critique, the best response is to only say "Thank you."
2) Only if you don't understand something written, or the critic skipped something you wanted commented upon, ask specifics.
3) Never justify your position as the critic obviously didn't get what you meant from what you wrote.
4) Never attack the critic. You've gotten back your words processed through the critic's brain and that's valuable.
5) Never take it personally.
If you cannot divorce your ego from your writing when asking for a critique, you will lose receiving the perspective of a reader who read, processed your words, and is willing to tell you what he or she thought. Take your work to a friend or relative if you want nice, not to a colleague as you did here.
Last, I will point out that I said:
Your assertion goes completely against my understanding of human nature—faith will be the first to flourish following catastrophe—so, you must, must, must, show or say why not so I can willing suspend disbelief (pun intended).
Note I emphasized "my understanding". That's because... that's my opinion (not yours). If fact, what I shared in my critique and my replies is all my opinion, including the "must, must, must" bit. (It's an MLP reference and was meant to be humorous.) I honestly stand-by my advice about lampshading. You might ask yourself why did he feel this way? You might even ask me. Or you could discard it as irrelevant.
>>scifipony
I don't know if you're misunderstanding the responses you've generated in this thread on purpose, or if you are just incapable of distinguishing "stop being so pretentious, Kyle" from "why big meanie no liek my story??? :((("
If it's the former, then I applaud your commitment to windmill-tilting. If it's the latter, then I'm sorry, but I clearly lack the words to explain the difference, and I'm tired of trying.
If you cannot divorce your ego from your writing when asking for a critique, you will lose receiving the perspective of a reader who read, processed your words, and is willing to tell you what he or she thought. Take your work to a friend or relative if you want nice, not to a colleague as you did here.
I don't know if you're misunderstanding the responses you've generated in this thread on purpose, or if you are just incapable of distinguishing "stop being so pretentious, Kyle" from "why big meanie no liek my story??? :((("
If it's the former, then I applaud your commitment to windmill-tilting. If it's the latter, then I'm sorry, but I clearly lack the words to explain the difference, and I'm tired of trying.
Hi >>scifipony,
If "All assertions in a story must be believable from the point of view of the reader as well as the POV character", why does suspension of disbelief as a concept exist? Surely if we aren't supposed to ever disbelieve any assertion, we'd never need to suspend that feeling?
Regards,
A concerned (& confused) reader
P.S. Please stop patronising my friends. They're smart people who disagree with you, not one of the newbies at your workshops. They've been doing this for a while, too.
If "All assertions in a story must be believable from the point of view of the reader as well as the POV character", why does suspension of disbelief as a concept exist? Surely if we aren't supposed to ever disbelieve any assertion, we'd never need to suspend that feeling?
Regards,
A concerned (& confused) reader
P.S. Please stop patronising my friends. They're smart people who disagree with you, not one of the newbies at your workshops. They've been doing this for a while, too.
>>QuillScratch
Suspension of disbelief by the reader is usually considered essential. As a writer, I want my readers to feel that the characters and events in my story are real. If I say the sky is purple, I need to explain why. If I don't say it's twilight or it's an alien planet or that I am wearing oddly tinted sunglasses, my readers are going to think something is unreal and then distrust everything I write from then on. In No_Raisin's story, the author states that there was a complete loss of faith. History and current political events around the world demonstrate that adversity makes many people turn toward faith rather than away from it, however illogical that may seem. This is my observation. As a critic, I explained that this assertion contrary to my reality threw me out of an otherwise fine story. It is up to No_Raisin alone to ponder why or to ignore me completely. Though I resist rewriting others' stories, No_Raisin could have written, "The great religions nuked themselves into oblivion and proved to the world there was no god, or at least one anyone wanted to believe in." That would have restored verisimilitude. That is lampshading. It is the secret sauce of great writers.
I am not patronizing your friends. I approach this site as a professional writer and assume everyone else does too. I follow the rules I stated in an earlier reply. I am simply giving my honest opinion of what I found wrong with a story. It is a personal communication between me and No_Raisin, and, frankly, I'm astounded that No_Raisin, considering his or her stated opinion, found it important to even write back! No_Raisin obviously doesn't think my critique is valid. Telling me I'm a fool or stuck up or wrong-thinking doesn't make me want to retract what I stated. It only makes me sad that an obviously talented potentially professional writer has an ego that is filtering out potentially important feedback from a reader.
Last, I do not understand why "friends" have piled on in order to protect their friend here from some imagined slight. Patronizing would have been for me to enter this event but to not have critiqued every other entry. I wrote nine critiques. First of all, their (what feels like) attacks on me may have colored No_Raisin's read of my critique and as a result deprived him or her of a valuable insight! Second, it is never useful to justify. If a reader doesn't get it, he just doesn't get it. Either shrug and move on, or ask yourself why didn't he get it. It's just a practice story. We are all writing tens of thousands of words or more per year. Except for the one truly great publishable story in this round—and that wasn't mine—it's just words and practice. Write it, learn from it, and throw it away.
Suspension of disbelief by the reader is usually considered essential. As a writer, I want my readers to feel that the characters and events in my story are real. If I say the sky is purple, I need to explain why. If I don't say it's twilight or it's an alien planet or that I am wearing oddly tinted sunglasses, my readers are going to think something is unreal and then distrust everything I write from then on. In No_Raisin's story, the author states that there was a complete loss of faith. History and current political events around the world demonstrate that adversity makes many people turn toward faith rather than away from it, however illogical that may seem. This is my observation. As a critic, I explained that this assertion contrary to my reality threw me out of an otherwise fine story. It is up to No_Raisin alone to ponder why or to ignore me completely. Though I resist rewriting others' stories, No_Raisin could have written, "The great religions nuked themselves into oblivion and proved to the world there was no god, or at least one anyone wanted to believe in." That would have restored verisimilitude. That is lampshading. It is the secret sauce of great writers.
I am not patronizing your friends. I approach this site as a professional writer and assume everyone else does too. I follow the rules I stated in an earlier reply. I am simply giving my honest opinion of what I found wrong with a story. It is a personal communication between me and No_Raisin, and, frankly, I'm astounded that No_Raisin, considering his or her stated opinion, found it important to even write back! No_Raisin obviously doesn't think my critique is valid. Telling me I'm a fool or stuck up or wrong-thinking doesn't make me want to retract what I stated. It only makes me sad that an obviously talented potentially professional writer has an ego that is filtering out potentially important feedback from a reader.
Last, I do not understand why "friends" have piled on in order to protect their friend here from some imagined slight. Patronizing would have been for me to enter this event but to not have critiqued every other entry. I wrote nine critiques. First of all, their (what feels like) attacks on me may have colored No_Raisin's read of my critique and as a result deprived him or her of a valuable insight! Second, it is never useful to justify. If a reader doesn't get it, he just doesn't get it. Either shrug and move on, or ask yourself why didn't he get it. It's just a practice story. We are all writing tens of thousands of words or more per year. Except for the one truly great publishable story in this round—and that wasn't mine—it's just words and practice. Write it, learn from it, and throw it away.
>>scifipony
I know I shouldn't jump on this bandwagon at so late a stage, but ... screw it.
No. Submitting a story and not reviewing might be selfish, but it is not patronising.
I don't generally like to lean on pedantry, but I would have thought a professional writer and alumnus of Clarion such as yourself would pay more attention to the meaning of words.
To be patronising is to give something with a presumption of superiority. You can tell it apart from generosity because the giver doesn't care about what the recipient wants; they assume the gift must be valuable, that they deserve respect, and that the recipient is a fool for not appreciating it.
So when you make a feeble attempt to win some imaginary pissing contest by bragging about being a professional writer, going to Clarion, and making people vomit, yes, you are being patronising. When you release your own vomit of vapid advicelets like "Never attack the critic.", yes, you are being patronising.
Now, on a level of basic principle, I don't think there's anything wrong with the content of your original review. I mean, I wouldn't have the same problem, but that's a matter of personal taste. In fact, I think Posh's criticism of it is mistaken.
But that's no longer the main issue here. The issue here is with your personal conduct, which we all seem to agree is piss-poor. (Most decent people wouldn't consider making others break into tears and throw up something to brag about.)
Now, to be fair, you've said a couple of times that Raisin is free to ignore your criticism, and that your point about faith was from one person's perspective only. So it seems that behind all the pomposity you are capable of humility.
See, writing is not the only area where people give feedback. Every area of social interaction gives you feedback. You're getting some right now.
What does it say? I'd summarise it as: Learn that your perspective is not the only one. Learn to interact with your fellow human beings with some basic civility.
And I think it would behoove you to listen to it.
I know I shouldn't jump on this bandwagon at so late a stage, but ... screw it.
Patronizing would have been for me to enter this event but to not have critiqued every other entry.
No. Submitting a story and not reviewing might be selfish, but it is not patronising.
I don't generally like to lean on pedantry, but I would have thought a professional writer and alumnus of Clarion such as yourself would pay more attention to the meaning of words.
To be patronising is to give something with a presumption of superiority. You can tell it apart from generosity because the giver doesn't care about what the recipient wants; they assume the gift must be valuable, that they deserve respect, and that the recipient is a fool for not appreciating it.
So when you make a feeble attempt to win some imaginary pissing contest by bragging about being a professional writer, going to Clarion, and making people vomit, yes, you are being patronising. When you release your own vomit of vapid advicelets like "Never attack the critic.", yes, you are being patronising.
Now, on a level of basic principle, I don't think there's anything wrong with the content of your original review. I mean, I wouldn't have the same problem, but that's a matter of personal taste. In fact, I think Posh's criticism of it is mistaken.
But that's no longer the main issue here. The issue here is with your personal conduct, which we all seem to agree is piss-poor. (Most decent people wouldn't consider making others break into tears and throw up something to brag about.)
Now, to be fair, you've said a couple of times that Raisin is free to ignore your criticism, and that your point about faith was from one person's perspective only. So it seems that behind all the pomposity you are capable of humility.
See, writing is not the only area where people give feedback. Every area of social interaction gives you feedback. You're getting some right now.
What does it say? I'd summarise it as: Learn that your perspective is not the only one. Learn to interact with your fellow human beings with some basic civility.
And I think it would behoove you to listen to it.
>>Scramblers and Shadows
WELL.
*vomits and bursts into tears*
In fact, I think Posh's criticism of it is mistaken.
WELL.
*vomits and bursts into tears*
>>scifipony
I've got a number of points about this post, and the posts that came before it. The first is that I think you and I greatly disagree over exactly what an author ought to do to combat disbelief, because I certainly don't think that a statement like "the sky was purple" would come close to breaking mine, as a reader. I would read the line, think "huh, that's different", and recognise that statement as a fact of the imaginary world that I am reading about (as perceived by the narrator). Simple facts that contradict my perception of my own reality are what my imagination is for, after all. Worth noting the disagreement, I feel, as it’ll likely colour a lot of this discussion.
I'm also not 100% sure that you're using the term lampshading correctly. It's not a term I've come across too often before, so (ironically) the first time I really looked into it was reading the very link you posted in your review. My understanding from that is that lampshading explicitly involves not explaining something that seems far-fetched. TvTropes describes the technique as "calling attention to [an implausible plot development or reliance on a trope] and simply moving on", which is in my mind closer to what the story already does than it is to your suggested improvement. Though, naturally, since this is a term I've only recently learned about, I'm happy to be corrected on that one (would appreciate some sources to read along with any corrections!)
A pretty big point of contention here is that I don't think all of your rules are exactly applicable to the writeoff, as a workshop format. You say that it's never useful for an author to justify themselves to a critic: why? If a critic tells me that something I've written has evoked a response that clearly doesn't match what I'm attempting to convey, and I don't explain what I was attempting to do and how I was attempting to do it, how can I open a dialogue in order to get advice that is relevant to my intentions?
The writeoff is a workshop forum, designed around critical conversion—critics can reply to existing responses by design, as this allows helpful and useful discussion to develop. It also allows us to become better critics. When I started out in the writeoff, as anyone who was around at the time would likely tell you, I was a bit of an arrogant asshat whose criticism was more often asinine than it was useful. I'd like to think that I've gotten better since then, and if I have it's entirely because other people replied to what I said and told me "hey Quill, you might want to consider not lecturing people about commas when you absolutely suck at using them"*.
Put simply: dialogue is the cornerstone of forum criticism. The Clarion method is not the only good way to run a workshop, and it's not how we run this one.
I'm surprised that you're astounded to find No Raisin write a comment back to you, as I can see that you have some history in the writeoffs. While it's by no means a universal practice, people writing retrospectives in which they respond to reviews to answer and ask questions, clarify, say thank you, or just share interesting facts about the process of writing the entry is fairly normal behaviour here. No Raisin even alludes to it above.
I'm also particularly shocked that you think No Raisin's message rejected your criticism because of ego, of all things. He says (in my opinion, rightly) that he does not have to cater to your worldview in his story, because the statement being made is sufficiently simple and fundamental that it can be expected that readers will suspend their disbelief if they happen to disagree with it. That's a reasoned disagreement, clearly and thoughtfully explained, if a little angrily so. To dismiss that disagreement as mere ego is itself somewhat egotistical—you assume that your suggestion must be valid, and refuse to recognise any argument that disagrees with it as so, because it is backed by your authentic experience of the story.
So let me talk about my own real problem with your initial critique. While I might disagree that the assertion in question is a good reason to lose engagement with a story, I am more than comfortable accepting that you did find it jarring, and I have no real problem with you stating that. Hell, as a physics graduate, if I read a story with a significant physical or mathematical error in it, I would find that jarring, and I would consider mentioning it in a review. The problem comes when you insist that the author accommodates that, because that is when you step out of the bounds of describing your reaction and into the realm of suggesting improvements. One of your rules is to never rewrite a story for someone—good. That's sensible. But proposing changes, even without proposing explicit wordings for them, still steps into this dangerous world where you might not actually know what's best for the story, only what you think might be.
In that world, we have to be humble. As critics, we have to acknowledge that our advice might just run completely counter to the author's intent—indeed, that we might have so fundamentally misunderstood the author's intent as to be proposing a change that makes the story worse. What we can't do, as you have done, is hide behind the shield of "all experiences by readers are useful and valid", because we've deliberately stepped out of the world in which that shield works.
If I read a story where a writer fundamentally misunderstood some principle of quantum physics or relativity, it very well might break me out of my immersion, and I very well might mention it. But you know what? I'd recognise that I was intended to accept their misunderstanding as fact, even if it isn't, and do my best to get back in. And at the end, if it weren't a statement fundamental to the story itself, I might say "by the way, this isn't how that works" (I think Cass did something like that this round with a story's description of law school?), but I certainly wouldn't tell the author "and you absolutely must write it how it works in real life or you might break some people's immersion if they happen to care enough about the subject". That probably isn't something they care much about, and I'd come across as a bit of an asshat. If I just let the author know what’s wrong in their description of a field I am an expert in, they get to weigh the advantages and disadvantages of using that.
There are two differences between that hypothetical situation and this real one. Firstly, in the hypothetical I'm not describing a disagreement with a worldview, but a disagreement with empirical fact, so one could argue that the case for making the change is stronger. And, secondly, the hypothetical change isn't fundamental to the story—I mentioned that for a reason. In this real situation, the assertion that faith died out following some apocalypse is part of the fundamental conceit of the story being told. To say that it needs explaining is no better than me criticising a work of fantasy for not mentioning the evolutionary origins of dragons, or a sci-fi story for not explaining that scientific advancements lead to the apparent limit of the speed of light being overcome. Those assumptions are inherent to the story, and to ask the author to justify them in-text is, in my opinion, refusing to engage with the story in good faith.
I'd like to end by stating my opposition to your position on writeoff entries as practice stories. People use writeoff entries for all sorts of things after the events (I've bought a short story anthology with one in!), and the way you write about them in your comment strikes me as particularly dismissive. You might use the stories you write for writeoffs as throwaway stories, and you might write plenty of other things, but some of us actually do care about (at least some of) our entries in these contests. I would ask you very kindly not to dismiss entries to any workshop as things to be thrown away. Not all of us have the luxury to treat them as such, and some of us have to treasure every little bit of writing we get to do.
* these weren't exactly the words used, but in my first ever writeoff I critiqued a story for using commas wrong (because I was young and foolish) when it actually used them right (very foolish). Horizon was kind enough to point out my error, and I've gradually moved toward trying to give more useful criticism as a result. I continue to be absolutely mortified by this story, but I share it because a) it's a useful illustration of my point and b) if I can avoid getting embarrassed by it, it's actually pretty funny.
I've got a number of points about this post, and the posts that came before it. The first is that I think you and I greatly disagree over exactly what an author ought to do to combat disbelief, because I certainly don't think that a statement like "the sky was purple" would come close to breaking mine, as a reader. I would read the line, think "huh, that's different", and recognise that statement as a fact of the imaginary world that I am reading about (as perceived by the narrator). Simple facts that contradict my perception of my own reality are what my imagination is for, after all. Worth noting the disagreement, I feel, as it’ll likely colour a lot of this discussion.
I'm also not 100% sure that you're using the term lampshading correctly. It's not a term I've come across too often before, so (ironically) the first time I really looked into it was reading the very link you posted in your review. My understanding from that is that lampshading explicitly involves not explaining something that seems far-fetched. TvTropes describes the technique as "calling attention to [an implausible plot development or reliance on a trope] and simply moving on", which is in my mind closer to what the story already does than it is to your suggested improvement. Though, naturally, since this is a term I've only recently learned about, I'm happy to be corrected on that one (would appreciate some sources to read along with any corrections!)
A pretty big point of contention here is that I don't think all of your rules are exactly applicable to the writeoff, as a workshop format. You say that it's never useful for an author to justify themselves to a critic: why? If a critic tells me that something I've written has evoked a response that clearly doesn't match what I'm attempting to convey, and I don't explain what I was attempting to do and how I was attempting to do it, how can I open a dialogue in order to get advice that is relevant to my intentions?
The writeoff is a workshop forum, designed around critical conversion—critics can reply to existing responses by design, as this allows helpful and useful discussion to develop. It also allows us to become better critics. When I started out in the writeoff, as anyone who was around at the time would likely tell you, I was a bit of an arrogant asshat whose criticism was more often asinine than it was useful. I'd like to think that I've gotten better since then, and if I have it's entirely because other people replied to what I said and told me "hey Quill, you might want to consider not lecturing people about commas when you absolutely suck at using them"*.
Put simply: dialogue is the cornerstone of forum criticism. The Clarion method is not the only good way to run a workshop, and it's not how we run this one.
I'm surprised that you're astounded to find No Raisin write a comment back to you, as I can see that you have some history in the writeoffs. While it's by no means a universal practice, people writing retrospectives in which they respond to reviews to answer and ask questions, clarify, say thank you, or just share interesting facts about the process of writing the entry is fairly normal behaviour here. No Raisin even alludes to it above.
I'm also particularly shocked that you think No Raisin's message rejected your criticism because of ego, of all things. He says (in my opinion, rightly) that he does not have to cater to your worldview in his story, because the statement being made is sufficiently simple and fundamental that it can be expected that readers will suspend their disbelief if they happen to disagree with it. That's a reasoned disagreement, clearly and thoughtfully explained, if a little angrily so. To dismiss that disagreement as mere ego is itself somewhat egotistical—you assume that your suggestion must be valid, and refuse to recognise any argument that disagrees with it as so, because it is backed by your authentic experience of the story.
So let me talk about my own real problem with your initial critique. While I might disagree that the assertion in question is a good reason to lose engagement with a story, I am more than comfortable accepting that you did find it jarring, and I have no real problem with you stating that. Hell, as a physics graduate, if I read a story with a significant physical or mathematical error in it, I would find that jarring, and I would consider mentioning it in a review. The problem comes when you insist that the author accommodates that, because that is when you step out of the bounds of describing your reaction and into the realm of suggesting improvements. One of your rules is to never rewrite a story for someone—good. That's sensible. But proposing changes, even without proposing explicit wordings for them, still steps into this dangerous world where you might not actually know what's best for the story, only what you think might be.
In that world, we have to be humble. As critics, we have to acknowledge that our advice might just run completely counter to the author's intent—indeed, that we might have so fundamentally misunderstood the author's intent as to be proposing a change that makes the story worse. What we can't do, as you have done, is hide behind the shield of "all experiences by readers are useful and valid", because we've deliberately stepped out of the world in which that shield works.
If I read a story where a writer fundamentally misunderstood some principle of quantum physics or relativity, it very well might break me out of my immersion, and I very well might mention it. But you know what? I'd recognise that I was intended to accept their misunderstanding as fact, even if it isn't, and do my best to get back in. And at the end, if it weren't a statement fundamental to the story itself, I might say "by the way, this isn't how that works" (I think Cass did something like that this round with a story's description of law school?), but I certainly wouldn't tell the author "and you absolutely must write it how it works in real life or you might break some people's immersion if they happen to care enough about the subject". That probably isn't something they care much about, and I'd come across as a bit of an asshat. If I just let the author know what’s wrong in their description of a field I am an expert in, they get to weigh the advantages and disadvantages of using that.
There are two differences between that hypothetical situation and this real one. Firstly, in the hypothetical I'm not describing a disagreement with a worldview, but a disagreement with empirical fact, so one could argue that the case for making the change is stronger. And, secondly, the hypothetical change isn't fundamental to the story—I mentioned that for a reason. In this real situation, the assertion that faith died out following some apocalypse is part of the fundamental conceit of the story being told. To say that it needs explaining is no better than me criticising a work of fantasy for not mentioning the evolutionary origins of dragons, or a sci-fi story for not explaining that scientific advancements lead to the apparent limit of the speed of light being overcome. Those assumptions are inherent to the story, and to ask the author to justify them in-text is, in my opinion, refusing to engage with the story in good faith.
I'd like to end by stating my opposition to your position on writeoff entries as practice stories. People use writeoff entries for all sorts of things after the events (I've bought a short story anthology with one in!), and the way you write about them in your comment strikes me as particularly dismissive. You might use the stories you write for writeoffs as throwaway stories, and you might write plenty of other things, but some of us actually do care about (at least some of) our entries in these contests. I would ask you very kindly not to dismiss entries to any workshop as things to be thrown away. Not all of us have the luxury to treat them as such, and some of us have to treasure every little bit of writing we get to do.
* these weren't exactly the words used, but in my first ever writeoff I critiqued a story for using commas wrong (because I was young and foolish) when it actually used them right (very foolish). Horizon was kind enough to point out my error, and I've gradually moved toward trying to give more useful criticism as a result. I continue to be absolutely mortified by this story, but I share it because a) it's a useful illustration of my point and b) if I can avoid getting embarrassed by it, it's actually pretty funny.
>>Posh
>>QuillScratch
>>scifipony
>>Scramblers and Shadows
Lemme get a, uhhhhhh
B O N E L E S S P I Z Z A
with a 2 l i t e r c o k e .
>>QuillScratch
>>scifipony
>>Scramblers and Shadows
Lemme get a, uhhhhhh
B O N E L E S S P I Z Z A
with a 2 l i t e r c o k e .
>>QuillScratch
That was a very well reasoned set of arguments and I find myself in agreement more often than not.
So many topics, as you said, and it is helping me understand why I got some of the reactions I got. At the very least, I know now that in the future I need to keep my critiques strictly to what I understood from reading the story, not attempt humor, and not state how it will affect my voting. I sense community permission to briefly suggest an edit if it illustrates my point.
I can't reply to everything at once, so this reply is likely not my last. In your first paragraph you state something key:
Sensing that would have negated my argument as the statement being an assertion that required lampshading! I did not get this sense, however—but it may be what the author intended. Reviewing the story in this light, let's pay attention to that the story is in first person and that an intentionally separate paragraph makes this statement emphatic:
This to me feels like third person, especially in casual reading and thus an assertion. However, were it written,
Well! ...that becomes personal and firmly the opinion of the first person narrator and not a global assertion by the author that requires predicate. In my opinion you have uncovered the true fault (accidental change of POV), and I feel I've learned something. I spent decades writing third person and have in the last four years switched to first. I see how I could make this very same error. I know now to check for it. Thank you.
As for lampshading, I may not be using it strictly, but other authors have understood my intent. It is indeed not exactly explaining, but making sure the reader/viewer doesn't get stuck on something in a story by writing a plausible, or at least plausible to the character, reason to believe. In my discussion and rewrite above adding the "I saw that" prefix to the sentence makes me positive that the first person narrator believes what he said but is his opinion alone. Further pinning it in reality then is "followed in time by literacy", demonstrated in the narrative, makes the full statement powerful indeed.
Truly, I meant what I said. In my opinion the story was good, but flawed by six words—or three missing ones. I could and did imagine the story being fixed, but I could not rate based I what I imagined. In the future, I see that stating such could be inflammatory and I won't do that again. Once more, thank you.
That was a very well reasoned set of arguments and I find myself in agreement more often than not.
So many topics, as you said, and it is helping me understand why I got some of the reactions I got. At the very least, I know now that in the future I need to keep my critiques strictly to what I understood from reading the story, not attempt humor, and not state how it will affect my voting. I sense community permission to briefly suggest an edit if it illustrates my point.
I can't reply to everything at once, so this reply is likely not my last. In your first paragraph you state something key:
as perceived by the narrator
Sensing that would have negated my argument as the statement being an assertion that required lampshading! I did not get this sense, however—but it may be what the author intended. Reviewing the story in this light, let's pay attention to that the story is in first person and that an intentionally separate paragraph makes this statement emphatic:
Faith was the first to die...
This to me feels like third person, especially in casual reading and thus an assertion. However, were it written,
I saw that faith was the first to die, followed in time by literacy...
Well! ...that becomes personal and firmly the opinion of the first person narrator and not a global assertion by the author that requires predicate. In my opinion you have uncovered the true fault (accidental change of POV), and I feel I've learned something. I spent decades writing third person and have in the last four years switched to first. I see how I could make this very same error. I know now to check for it. Thank you.
As for lampshading, I may not be using it strictly, but other authors have understood my intent. It is indeed not exactly explaining, but making sure the reader/viewer doesn't get stuck on something in a story by writing a plausible, or at least plausible to the character, reason to believe. In my discussion and rewrite above adding the "I saw that" prefix to the sentence makes me positive that the first person narrator believes what he said but is his opinion alone. Further pinning it in reality then is "followed in time by literacy", demonstrated in the narrative, makes the full statement powerful indeed.
Truly, I meant what I said. In my opinion the story was good, but flawed by six words—or three missing ones. I could and did imagine the story being fixed, but I could not rate based I what I imagined. In the future, I see that stating such could be inflammatory and I won't do that again. Once more, thank you.