Last week I sent out another piece to get critiqued by our writers’ group. Each time the feedback comes in I can’t help but be reminded of the blindmen and the elephant. Which are we? Every observation speaks to a different strength, style and even favourite genre, every comment touches another aspect. When it’s so easy to be artistically narrowminded and hack each other’s work to shreds because it’s not like our own style, that doesn’t happen. Our group works because of the differences.
Some of us focus on the elephant’s trunk, the flexible imagination and flow of the story. Another the straightforward tail, that swishes away flies and unnecessary words and grammar errors. The third blindman examines the sturdy tree trunk legs. Does the story stand up? And the ears, has our creative potential been properly fanned, making it the best it can be. Lastly the warm textured hide, comments about the feel of story. What was liked and what could be improved.
Until this week, I hadn’t decided if we are the blindmen or the elephant. The thought of us being blindmen comes with negative connotations, each member convinced what he feels is the entire elephant. Not thinking creatively and considering the whole. We are too caring of each other’s talent to think that way. We don’t write trunks or hides or even legs. Sure, we need those body parts to make the whole but what we do is help each other write tales. Tales that come from our hearts and souls. Tales that are complete like our critique group. The grammar corrections, logic catches, every bit of feedback helps us be that elephant, that majestic pachyderm.
