The monthly gathering of my writing critique group met here last night. I’m always struck by how varied and totally unique each person’s words on paper can be. Writers tend to keep the swirl of words going on in their heads between themselves and their computers, so it’s healthy to get together with others and put our work on the table. But it’s not always easy to critique that work or easy to be on the receiving end of criticism either. It requires a lot of trust in the members of the group and some humility on our parts to receive the comments. It also requires willingness to look at our work as if for the first time to see what others see. I recently told an editor that having her cut my work felt like losing some fingers. She understood what I was saying but she cut anyway. We tend to fall in love with our words and ideas and through the glazed eyes of the lover we see no faults at all. Too bad, cut, cut, cut. The end product is almost always better for the carnage. I love my writer’s group and each person in it. There is no benefit to be gained by protecting my work from the eyes and red pencils of others and there is a great deal to be gained by submitting to the process. But I have to admit, it sometimes hurts.