I searched for three years. On my quest, as with finding any satisfying relationship, I kissed frogs, toads, newts, and the occasional salamander before I finally heard the angels sing.
Each critique group has a vibe, a personality, a purpose that provides benefits for the members. I wanted something aligned with my goals. The first gathering revolved around coffee, chatting, and offering reasons for not producing. Their coffee was a little weak. Participants at a different venue served as acolytes to a published author. I prefer coffee over Kool-Aid. One bunch focused on everyone feeling “good” about their piece and stipulated they did not permit “harsh words.” In my book, high quality, strong, black coffee, doesn’t need cream and sugar.
Another meeting started with a friendly chat, then they eviscerated my submission. I could have been offended. I could have argued, defended my writing, insisted they didn’t understand and accused them of being wrong…
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