But it’s also risky to have someone else read your work. We’ve all had terrible experiences both in sharing our works in progress and in critiquing other work. After sharing a novel I was revising, there were so many overwhelming questions and negativity about what didn’t work in the piece that I shoved it in a drawer and never took it back out. And when an acquaintance asked me to read her young adult novel, she reacted to what I thought was a positive, supportive critique with a mean-spirited email that lashed out at my own work and at me personally.

What I’ve learned is that there are better ways to approach this process. A writer shouldn’t come away feeling crushed or discouraged. In fact, the whole reason for critique is to reenergize the author, to give her the impetus to revisit her work with new enthusiasm. But there need to be some ground rules. And the first ground rule is this:

There should be a trusting relationship between the author and reader before any work is shared. The reader is not a judge. Unless the reader is an agent or editor, the reader’s role is not to decide whether the work has merit or whether it is publishable. It is to offer caring, insightful, and constructive criticism of the work as well as reinforce all the positive qualities of it, to let the writer know what is working and what speaks to the reader’s heart. In order for a successful critique to take place, the reader must be capable of doing the above, and the author must be capable of accepting it.

Decide what you need from a reading. Some writers want feedback early on, others want to wait until it’s a finished piece. Some want a nuts and bolts critique, others want a larger view of the strengths and weaknesses, what works/doesn’t work type of critique. Sometimes we want both types of critique at different points in the writing process. When I critiqued the work of my acquaintance, I assumed she had been through the process before, that she could accept questions about her work in a positive manner. What she wanted, though, was a line-by-line grammatical edit of her novel, not questions about motive or character or plot.

Use questions to frame your criticism. No manuscript is perfect, and there are always ways to make it better. But no one responds to insults. Which works better: the statement, I hated how your description was vague and abstract, or the question, Could you give us specific, concrete images that appeal to our senses?

Allow for discussion of the work between the author and reader. Discussion should not be a defending of the work or arguing with the reader, but a conversation that allows the author to ask questions, gather suggestions, or simply to state how she feels about the critique. Sometimes an author doesn’t want to speak or even look at the readers during a critique, but I believe open dialogue can only improve a critique. After all, it’s a wonderful gift to share in the process as a novel is born, and it’s a wonderful gift to be able to see your work through someone else’s eyes.

This is my own personal approach and I realize that it may not work for everyone. I’d love to hear what works for you, and what you’ve learned from your own critiques, whether as the author or reader.

The average age that people report having their earliest memory is age three and a half. Until then the neocortex, the outer layer of the brain where memories are stored, is not fully developed, and scientists think that infants don’t have the language skills to organize memories. Often those early memories are associated with strong feelings (in my case, embarrassment) or sensory association; for instance, one of my sister’s earliest memories involves the scent of a strong perfume.

What’s your earliest memory? How old were you? Does it involve a strong emotion or connect with one of your senses?
To celebrate the release of Unforgettable, I’m giving away a black-and-white Nook. Although I don’t use an e-reader myself, many of my friends do and they love them.

It’s easy to enter. Between Sept. 6 and Oct. 6, 2011, just post a response below, describing your earliest memory and how old you were. I’ll hold a random drawing from all entries and will post the winner’s name on my website. You must be older than 13 to enter (you could have a parent or teacher enter for you if you’re younger). The winner will need to provide a mailing address so I can send you the Nook.

Good luck, and don’t forget to check out my new book, Unforgettable.

We’ve been reinventing ourselves for over 200 years now and it continues to be our defining characteristic. Look at any magazine cover or the multitude of non-fiction books or TV shows that promise a ‘new you’. I’m not talking about just self help or improvement. They promise total transformation.

I’ve been thinking about how so many young adult novels have themes of acceptance, of learning to embrace who you really are. Is it any wonder that young adults struggle for acceptance when the grown up world is full of people who constantly want to change themselves?

In my upcoming novel Unforgettable, Baxter is a fifteen year-old boy with a perfect memory who moves to a new town in a different state with the express purpose of reinventing himself and outrunning his mom’s boyfriend who swore vengeance on him. When he reads The Great Gatsby for English class, he relates to the mysterious millionaire Jay Gatsby.  Gatsby, who is the ultimate story of reinvention, becomes a rags to riches legend. But we know that it doesn’t end well for Jay Gatsby. And we know that sooner or later Baxter will slip up and have to face his past, which he remembers all too well.

It seems that teens are not the only ones who struggle to accept themselves. Jay Gatsby never did embrace his poor North Dakota roots. A definition of reinvention is ‘complete makeover,’ and it’s what adults strive for on a daily basis. Just check your local television guide or your nearest bookstore.