critiques

Continuing the cello and writing theme from the last post, my most recent lesson reminded me a lot of the writing critique process.

I credit my ability to gracefully handle (most of the time) critiques of my writing to Dr Ruth Ann Ragland, who was my advisor in the journalism department at Texas Woman's University. (Alas, the department no longer exists.) The degree requirements included several newswriting classes. Dr Ragland taught one of them, and part of the set-up of her class was a regular one-on-one coaching session.

You had a recurring appointment in her office every week. She had marked up your go at the previous week's assignment (the pages were near pink after she'd taken her red pen to them), and in this weekly meeting, she'd sit next to you and go over her mark-ups one by one. She was patient and careful to explain the why behind her edits. It didn't feel so much like criticism as it felt like enlightenment. It wasn't painful, and her points were always logical. After my first few experiences with her coaching method, I actually looked forward to the critique sessions.

I used to keep a running list of the edits she tended to make on my assignments so that I could self-correct before she ever saw the draft - passive voice, too many "that"'s, unnecessary words, making sure all the important points were in the paragraphs "above the fold," tell all sides of the story.

At the end of each session, she encouraged you to revise the article and submit it to the university newspaper, which would often get you a published article and a byline. (Ah, I have fond memories of The Lasso and working in the newsroom.)

Dr Ragland's coaching method changed my thinking about constructive criticism. Anyone who read the published version of my article had no way of knowing how much she'd red-penned the draft. All they saw was the final polished piece. Her criticism wasn't intended to ruin my day or build up self-doubt - it was meant to make my writing better and up my chances of getting praised for it, rather than blamed, since it was only my name on the byline.

My weekly lessons with Ben are similar in approach. I play for him what I've worked on in the past week, and he takes notes as he listens. Then he goes over each "edit" that he thinks I should make to improve the piece or etude or scale - more distinction between short bow strokes on dotted notes and fuller strokes on non-dotted notes, keep shoulders down even on the tricky bits that make me nervous, a little more bow pressure on the C string for better intonation, don't overthink position shifts since that leads to overshooting or undershooting them, pay attention to dynamics where overtly indicated and where they could be logically placed if not overtly indicated.

I now have a sticky note on my music stand with a running list of the "edits" Ben suggests in an effort to self-correct ahead of time while I'm learning a piece, so that when I present a version to him for critique, it's hopefully a bit more polished.

Should I ever get to performance level, an audience won't have a clue about my coaching sessions with Ben, although they will see the results of those sessions. I wonder if I could get away with putting that sticky note on the music stand while on stage.