My Writing Group Forgot My Birthday: Are They the Assholes?

Howdy! We meet again!

Welcome back to the most exciting corner of the internet. That’s right, it’s once again time for Am I the Literary Asshole?, an advice column about drama that sometimes boils down to a misused comma and the consumption of several Miller High Lifes. I’m your host, Kristen Arnett, and I’ve never met a beer I didn’t like. In tribute to that—as well as the fact that nothing goes better with drama than crushing a couple of cold ones—I’ve brought us a couple of six-packs and some crunch wrap supremes. Who loves you? I do!

The questions are wilder than ever today, friends, and the beers not getting any colder. Let’s wade right into the friction and get to drinking, shall we? Toast those crunch wraps, let’s get right to it:

1) Recently I got some feedback on my writing that’s been giving me some trouble. I’m working on a novel draft (and have been toiling away inside this document for the past two-and-a-half-years) and have shown it to basically no one. It’s finally reached a critical stage where I need eyes on it, so I showed it to someone who’s given me trusted feedback in the past. After almost two months of total silence, they finally got back to me with what basically boiled down to as “it’s very cinematic.” It doesn’t feel as though they meant this in a good way, but more like they feel like I wrote it strictly so it could be turned into something meant for the screen. That’s not what I was trying to do at all. I’m overwhelmed by this and am now reconsidering everything I’ve written. I don’t want to trash my novel, but I’m upset. Please tell me is the person being an asshole or am I just overly sensitive?

Hey friend! Thanks for writing in with this one.

Much like our question about plot in the last column, the use of “cinematic” to describe fiction is something that’s cropping up a lot nowadays. Because it’s used so often and by so many different people, the word has lost a lot of its meaning. It’s like how people say the word “vibe” to describe anything from a flavor of ice cream to their favorite pair of jeans to the feeling they get watching a car commercial. I can understand why it would bother you to have it used on your work. A word that holds so many different meanings at this point wouldn’t be all that helpful when it comes to critical feedback.

I want to unpack what the bigger issue is, however, and that seems to be that you’re upset with the way this reader—ostensibly a friend—interacted with your work. There is the fact that they described it as “very cinematic,” sure, but you also point out that it took them nearly two months to get back to you. Two months of “total silence.” That seems to be the bigger issue here; the underlying iceberg that has snagged your confidence. Perhaps this is a reader that usually gets back to you more quickly, or you interact with them outside of this level of critique. To me, it’s less about the fact that they described your work as “cinematic” (which truly isn’t a bad thing), and more that they didn’t give your work any level of meaningful engagement. To have two-and-a-half years’ worth of work “boiled down” to something means you feel this reader didn’t do right by you. They didn’t give this draft the care you expected from them. They called it “cinematic,” and then they checked out. They glanced at it. That’s what hurts.

If you like this reader and they’ve done you right in the past, maybe it’s time to have a longer conversation about what they meant by this feedback. Sit down with them and explore it further. Maybe they’ve got a lot going on in their life right now and in lieu of telling you they didn’t have time to fully engage with your work, they decided to just give you the most basic feedback possible. Maybe they’re just not your reader any more. Regardless, it’s time to have a talk and find out. Good luck.

Let’s crack open a couple more beers and couple more crunch wraps and take a gander at our second question of the day:

2) You’ve probably answered this a million times, but I’ll ask anyway: is it dumb to only work on short fiction if I’m trying to get an agent and be traditionally published? I don’t think I have a novel in me, truthfully.

It’s never dumb to work on art you care about!

That’s the short answer.

The longer one? It’s… complicated.

We all know that it’s difficult to get short fiction out into the world. Especially when you’re talking about traditional publishing. However, I will say that if you’re making the art you want to make—and you feel good about it—then you’ll likely find the right person to help you shepherd that work into the world. It might mean that you need to kaleidoscope your plans a bit. By that, I mean that you need to possibly reconsider what you mean when you say “traditional” publishing. There are plenty of places that are publishing short fiction collections and agents who shop for those authors exclusively, but they might not necessarily be at the big houses. Trying to write a novel when you don’t have a passion for it isn’t worth giving up the work that you actually do like. Keep writing the things that you want to write. At the end of the day, that’s all that matters. It’s the smartest thing you can do.

Another beer? Last crunchwrap? Final question!

3) This might be crazy, but I have to get this off my chest. My writing group forgot my birthday. We’ve been writing together since meeting in our MFA program at [REDACTED] over five years ago, and the four of us have gone through a lot together. We not only write together, we celebrate life stuff; engagements, acquiring agents, journal publications, anniversaries, the birth of children, new pets, new houses, etc. The fact that all three of these people forgot my birthday has wounded me so horribly that I cried for a week straight. No one even really apologized when they realized they’d forgotten it? I have made so much space for them in my life and am now shocked to realize that none of them feel the same way. How can I move forward from this?

Oh man. I’m sorry to hear this!

This is a friend group that’s been together a while. You share art, which is one of the most intimate things you can do with another person. It has pretty much nothing to do with writing and more to do with the fact that you feel sad that people you care about forgot something special. Your feelings are hurt because people you love didn’t give you the attention that you need and expect. It has less to do with your birthday and much more to do with you as a person. You felt ignored and unseen. That’s rough.

However, I would urge you to give this group another chance. That’s a long time to share a friendship! People are going through all kinds of bullshit right now. It’s a tough time to be alive and do anything, much less make art. It’s totally possible that there are valid reasons for this group forgetting something like a birthday. Let’s give love a chance!

Unless you’re ready to give up on this group forever, I’m going to ask that you do something important. Get everyone together, talk about it. Tell them that it hurt your feelings. If they really care about keeping this group together—and I suspect that they do—they’re going to apologize and find a way to make it up to you. And hey, I can guarantee they likely won’t miss another birthday again.

And that’s all the time we have for today, folks! Join me next column when I answer more of your questions (send them to me!!!!) and I try to work more Taco Bell into the mix.

Live Más,
Dad

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Are you worried you’re the literary asshole? Ask Kristen via email at AskKristen@lithub.com, or anonymously here.