If you’re a writer, you’ve probably asked someone else to read something you wrote and give you an opinion. That, in a nutshell, is what a beta-reader should do for you. Read your work, and give you some kind of amazing sent-from-heaven input that will make your work approximately ten million times better than it was before they read it. But let’s face it, that’s not entirely realistic. In my experience a good beta reader will only improve your work by a factor of ONE million, not ten.

But I digress! What I really want to share are my own rules for beta reading. A general how-to guide, for those of your just starting out, or recovering from a nightmare exchange, or looking to up your game. This advice is based on a solid year of beta exchanges, during which I believe I’ve learned the ropes. I’ll let my CPs chime in on that one–what’s a CP, you say? A Critique Partner. They are the kind of beta readers who will give you detailed, writer-based feedback. NOT beta readers such as teenagers, whom I view as target market samples–giving your YA novel to teens is ethnographic research in my book. I’ve explored that process as well, but the rules for that kind of beta exchange will have to wait for another post.

For now, let’s focus on a beta exchange between CPs, people (most likely writers) who agree to read each other’s work and share feedback. Here are my rules for a smooth exchange–because, like any exchange, there is the potential for a swap to go awry. Attending to the ‘business’ side of a beta swap right away can save you headaches and put you on the right track.

1. Swap details first. Novel title, genre, short description or query, and WORD COUNT. Note the caps there? Yeah. Word count is pretty important in an exchange. If you’ve written 35K, and they’ve written 140K, you might not want to swap. Or you might! It’s totally up to you. But exchanging this info up front will give you a chance to kindly opt out if you are not a match with your CP.

2. Swap samples. Some people swap the first three chapters. Other swap the first 25 pages. Whatever you swap, I recommend trying a sample of someone’s work before you sign up to eat, I mean, read, the whole thing. If only we could do this in restaurants, too, right?

3. Establish swap expectations. This is the ‘business’ part of a swap. Set a timeline for the exchange. Agree to a format for feedback. Do you want notes in the Word doc? Do you want to use ‘Track Changes’? Do you want a separate summary written in email? Do you expect the MS to be formatted a particular way? Will you be open to more questions after the crit, or reading a future revision?

4. Establish feedback expectations. There are INFINTE topics to address within a work in progress. It’s a good idea to give your beta reader an idea of the feedback you’re looking for. Is this a first draft? Are you looking for general feedback on plot, character development, pacing, and voice? Or are you at the polishing stage? Are you looking for line edits, grammar tweaks, and quick kills for dangling participles? Know where you are with your MS. There’s no sense in getting line edits on a first draft. Save that picky, time-consuming work for later drafts whose plot holes have already been fixed.

Once you’ve chatted with your potential CP, found that you have a nearly identical word count, and exchanged samples (only to discover you must have been separated at birth), it’s time to get to work. And how exactly do you do that? Well, here’s my best guess, based on beta reading a couple of dozen MSs in the past year.

1. Remember that this is not your MS. However you give feedback, and whatever level of critique you have agreed to, do your best as a reader to tap into your CP’s unique point of view. Try to push that unique voice and story in the direction it NEEDS to go, not the direction you would take it if you were writing this story. You can show a million writers the same picture, and we’ll all write a different story. Help your CP write theirs, not yours.

2. BE HONEST. Notice that I put that one in all caps? That’s because beta reading is a total waste of time if you aren’t prepared to give honest feedback. Say what you mean. As a reader, and as a writer. Don’t shy away from pointing out writing that needs work. Or voice that goes in and out. Or characters who act OUT of character. Or plot holes big enough to drive a car through. Or whole passages, or even whole chapters, that bored you to tears. Whatever level of feedback you’ve agreed to give, give it kindly, but with total honesty.

3. Specificity is a gift. As a beta reader, it’s easy to feel like we need to solve the other writer’s problems. Don’t worry about that. Worry about telling your CP EXACTLY what you are experiencing/thinking/questioning at any part of the novel. Rather than making suggestions, ask questions. When your CP reads your question, they will know what to do. They’re writers!

4. Do the work. What do you get out of beta-reading for another writer? Well, other than eye strain (I kid) (not really), completing a beta-read teaches you how to write. Yeah. So I think the effort is worth it. Because when you read someone else’s story, you see things about your own writing that you would not see otherwise. For every minute you spend scrutinizing someone else’s pages, your pages will improve. I promise. Plus, being a great CP is rewarding. You will attract even better CPs, people who are agented, or even published. A great CP does not go unnoticed.

5. Beta Reader Checklist:
— Did the opening sentence grab you? The opening chapter? Does the novel start where the story starts (most don’t in the first draft)?
— What were the most exciting parts of the story? The most boring? How was the pace overall? In each chapter?
— Did you like the MC? Were the secondary characters well developed as well? Did any characters act out of turn? Was the antagonist well-developed as well? Did you understand the antagonist’s motivation? Did you have sympathy for them?
— Was the world-building complete? Were there sensory details? Was there any info-dumping?
— Was there telling instead of showing?
— Was there enough dialogue? Enough action? Enough description?
— Were there bad writing habits? Too much passive voice, dangling participles, lack of sentence variety, cliche phrases, bad dialogue tags, too many adverbs . . .
— Did the story end in the right place?

And finally, one note on RECEIVING a beta-read. Thank your CP. And don’t ask any questions, not for a minimum of 48 hours. Read through their feedback carefully. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from beta swaps, it’s that every single reader shares an observation that improves my work.

Because regardless of writing skill, most writers are great readers, and they have feedback aplenty. The first time you read beta feedback, you’ll most likely have a heart attack. But rest assured, after the shock wears off, you’ll be energized. And excited. And thankful. And you will LOVE your CPs.

Read About my First Beta-Read!

Reading about another writer’s process makes me feel less alone, or whacky, or stupid about the way I do things. Camaraderie is as reassuring as a warm blanket. I want, more than anything, to know “I am not the only one” . . . and that “I am like other writers.”

I devour blog entries and articles that outline HOW other writers work. I love the details. I love feeling like I’m peeking right over their shoulders watching them. This connection to other writers informs and supports my own writing process. So, this is what my own writing process looks like:

I sit in the dining room, at one end of the big, empty table. My MacBook Air is directly in front of me. On the screen, two windows work in tandem, one is the latest rev of the WIP, and the other I affectionately name, “scrap.doc” On the table to my right is a printed copy of the WIP, double sided, in a blue folder, with two gigantic binder clips securing the pages. Invariably, a blue pen is propped on top of these pages.

When I settle in to work, I start with the print pages, opening the blue folder to reveal the challenge that will face me today. The clips secure the stuff-I-already-worked-on to the left side of the folder, and trap the stuff-I-have-left-to-fix on the right. Think of them as vicious metal bookmarks that keep me from easily hopping to another more appealing section of the WIP.

I write like hell on the paper pages. I always start a chapter by looking at the word count — is this too long? Does it need to be split up? Does it have a good flow with the size of preceding and following chapters? Then I make a quick list of the major plot points. Then I cross-out, draw arrows, scribble through, notate, and sometimes even physically cut up the chapter until it’s clear what needs to be done. Including writing things like “I hate this!” when I need to let it out.

That’s when the “scrap” document comes into play. Often, I know the writing just isn’t working, but I have to get over the fear of losing something good. So, anything I crossed out on paper gets copied into the scrap doc before I delete it from the WIP. I stuff these orphaned chunks into the scrap doc quickly and mercilessly. After all, I’m not throwing them away, I’m just setting them aside, like you do with a pretty little gift box before you finally dump it into the recycling bin.

Once I’ve fed the scrap doc, I read back through the chapter and make all of my other edits. If I miss certain phrases, I rescue them from the scrap, saving important details and adjectives until they come together into a much, much better whole than they formed the first time around. I find that the scrap doc gives me the freedom to find the right words instead of clinging to the wrong ones. It lets me clean house guilt-free. And that’s when revisions go well, when you have the freedom to make the necessary changes.

In the end, the scrap doc is a graveyard of lovely yet repetitive descriptors, broken phrases, and useless adverbs, and over time I am certain I no longer need them. Then the WIP can really shine, free of the burden, and ready for the next step: scrap2.doc.