As a writer you often get asked by people, usually friends (but often acquaintances), if you’ll read their work. Usually when someone says “read,” what they actually mean is “critique.” They want feedback, guidance, or help. Often, they want to be told not to give up, that they can do this crazy hard frustrating beautiful thing that they’re trying to do.
I’ve read a lot of articles about why you should never ever ever ever ever ever ask a writer friend to read your work. There was this expletive laden one that went around a few years ago. There are also some more measured, thoughtful essays that are basically saying the same thing: this is a job, and we get paid for jobs. I charge people to edit their work, and I am paid quite well to do it. Every hour I spend reading and editing your work is an hour I’m not working on my own projects. It’s a huge imposition, and unless you would feel comfortable, say, asking to crash on my couch with 24 hours notice, you shouldn’t be asking me to edit your manuscript.
You know what I say to that? Fuck off.
This isn’t an easy business to be in. It’s creative, it’s soul-consuming, and it’s often lonely. None of us do this on our own, and we’ve all been in that place where we need a little guiding light. We have a responsibility to help each other, and it’s a privilege to have reached the place where others can look up to you, and you can reach down and help lift someone a little further up. I remember every single person who I have turned to over the years. I remember the terror of getting up the courage to ask for help, the nail-biting wait about whether they’ll say yes or no, the incandescent joy when they agree to look it over. I remember every bit of feedback and critique I was given; notes about writing memories into stories, about casting possibilities in stage plays, about un-“Disney-fying” an action movie.
You know what else I remember? I remember every person who said yes, they’d be happy to – and then didn’t. I remember every time I turned over a precious piece of myself and got only resounding silence in reply. I remember every time I haunted my computer, waiting for an email that never came.
That second article I linked to makes one good point. Sometimes, you’re just too busy. You shouldn’t have to feel guilty for saying no, and I get that it must be frustrating to be constantly bombarded for requests. I’ve never been approached by a stranger or a fan and asked for help, for instance – but I wouldn’t tell strangers and fans never to give it a shot. You know why? Because maybe that’s the day when you’re between projects, and you have an hour to donate to a good cause. Maybe you recognize something in that stranger that you saw in yourself, and you think you have something worthwhile to say to them.
You know what the difference is between mentoring and working for free? Semantics. I’m very firmly against being taken advantage of, and I think the currennt movement in the arts away from free labour is a long time coming. The whole lie of “exposure” as payment is horrifying, and giving away your work because its “for a good cause” or “for a non profit” should never expected or assumed. But it should be done, now and then, and that’s what agreeing to read a friend’s work is: it’s a pro-bono case. It’s a donation to charity. It’s the right thing to do.
If you’re asking an author for help, remember that you’re asking for a favour – but authors, remember that everyone needs a favour, now and then. Give new writers a break. Give new writers a hand. Give back what you know you got at some point in your career.
And for god’s sake, stop saying yes and then not doing it!!!!!! (seriously. it’s mean.)