Critique group this morning. We only had one story up, and it was actually one I have critiqued from this author from the "informal" critique group, so my duties were light. It was a productive session for me, although I wonder how productive my critique is for him. We are rather different types of writers. He describes everything -- poetically, beautifully, accurately. I don't. So I think that often we read each other's pieces in a sort of bemusement.

I think this is a good thing! When I read his work, I can get frustrated. "Why is he describing the getaway car when the guy has a gun to his head??" (That's pretty much a verbatim comment from this morning's session, except the details are different.) But next time I write a getaway scene -- and this is the big important part for me -- I remember Scott's efforts, so different from mine, and I think through my own process. The guy might not notice the make model size gas gauge color material of upholstery, but he would notice SOMETHING. What is that thing he would notice? The things that matter when he is fighting for his life, of course. And so I write that in the margins of his story, but I also write it in the margins of my story.

Madeleine L'Engle

Thanks for giving me tessering and Charles Wallace, for teaching me how dangerous Camazotz is, even if it looks peaceful and lovely, for introducing me to Mrs. Whatsit.

It was a dark and stormy night. Rest in peace now.