DAY FIVE
A friend I hadn't heard from in a while got in touch today. In one of those strange coincidences I'd been thinking of her earlier in the week, wondering if she was still writing. Then the embarrassing memory kicked in. Again.
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A Question of Balance
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The chapter I read revolved entirely around a bored warhouseman feeding empty cardboard boxes into a compactor. (It belatedly occurs to me that this may have been intended as a metaphor for his life). I can still remember quite a lot of the narrative, how he felt about his job, details of the machine and the noises it made, what he intended to do after work that day. In fact I still have some quite vivid images in my mind, leading me to conclude it was in fact a good piece of storytelling.
At the time however...
Let's just say I was rather insistent that it needed some other characters, or at least one, to 'leaven the loaf'. My actual words, I cringe to remember. This became a bone of contention, but not I'm happy to say, fatal to our friendship. All the same I was a bit miffed by the stern look she gave me when I asked about reading any other chapters.
Wiser souls than me won't need telling that when asked to comment on someone's work there is a balance to be struck betweem your point of view, however well intended, or indeed misinformed, and the creator's aims and intention. It is their work after all.
I learned something from the experience even if she didn't: humility, caution, and a little sugar on the pill may be the honest critic's best friends.
Onwards...

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