So I have been working on a book for the past year; it's a memoir, very personal, and by far the best thing I have ever done. While I don't have a polished ms. yet, I finished a draft and pulled out a couple of essays to start getting feedback from writers and editors I know. I also, stupidly, asked a couple of other people who I thought might be well-connected with editors and publishers to take a look.
One of these, a woman who is not a writer or editor, is certainly not the target audience, and basically doesn't know jack, wrote me back a long "analysis" detailing all the places where she felt the work fell short. I am not averse to constructive criticism, but wtf really? I had asked her, if she knew anyone, and felt she could recommend the work, to pass the pieces along. That's *it.*
I feel stupid even complaining about this--I have gotten so much informed, positive feedback, and it has been so incredibly gratifying, exciting and inspirational. I really believe this book will get published. But what a buzzkill, you know? In what way is this shit helpful?
One of these, a woman who is not a writer or editor, is certainly not the target audience, and basically doesn't know jack, wrote me back a long "analysis" detailing all the places where she felt the work fell short. I am not averse to constructive criticism, but wtf really? I had asked her, if she knew anyone, and felt she could recommend the work, to pass the pieces along. That's *it.*
I feel stupid even complaining about this--I have gotten so much informed, positive feedback, and it has been so incredibly gratifying, exciting and inspirational. I really believe this book will get published. But what a buzzkill, you know? In what way is this shit helpful?
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