Notes on critique:
Getting:
When my poem’s entire stanza is in one meter, please *do not* tell me it would be smoother if I cut a syllable! (Unless of course I’ve screwed up and you’re telling me how to get back to that meter.)
Giving: When I’m critiquing something you’ve written, be it a poem or a technical presentation, and I tell you something isn’t clear, please do not explain your meaning to me, because I probably don’t care. The point is that you haven’t made it clear in your writing – and if you have to explain it in a side conversation, then your writing is not succeeding. (Assuming your goal is to communicate meaning. And if it isn’t, then I’m not the right person to be critiquing it.)
And, springing from a lot of different discussions in recent months – apparently I tend to channel Judith Viorst (is she still writing?) when annoyed:
The Man Who Always Meant Well
—–
I don’t think we should hire her;
she looks a little old.
A job like this might stress her health –
I’d hate to see it fold.
It’s really for her own sake that
I’m going to turn her down.
The sacrifice is ours to lose
a hire of such reknown.
But really life is strenuous, on
a job tied to a beeper.
Let’s get somebody younger in –
not to mention cheaper.
—-
I’ve friends of every color –
I don’t even see their skin.
We share so much in common:
what’s important is within.
I don’t know why you harp so –
I’m not racist and that’s flat.
I’m sure my friends aren’t hurting….
they don’t talk of things like that.
—-
I’m never homophobic, don’t care
who you love or marry –
or rather, civil-union with –
just not my daughter. Sorry!
—-
Yes, of course I let the door slam
though it hit you on the nose.
The feminists don’t want doors held –
you might be one of those.
I didn’t offer you my seat
on last night’s crowded train
although you’re eight months pregnant –
you’ve no right to complain.
I’ll never patronize you
with outmoded courtesies
I couldn’t so despise you –
You can rely on me!