Below the Heavens [Trad Epic High Fantasy]

Honest critique and relentless review are critical to success. So how do we practice it?

As part of my journey to "git gud" at this craft we call storytelling, I try and figure out how to improve my skills. A large part of that was adopting, internalizing, and becoming efficient at both giving/receiving honest critique and the review process.

You might be wondering, "Why these two concepts?"

Simple. They are the first tangible steps you can take toward developing any skill, not just storytelling. But for now, let's focus on how they apply to the craft of writing. While I believe they can be adapted to other aspects of life, for this piece, we'll keep the scope tight.

Honest Critique: The Gift of Truth

"What's worse than someone who tells you how much you suck?"

"Someone who knows you suck but says nothing. Then you just suck forever."

That's the essence of honest critique: the feedback that might sting at first but ultimately helps you grow. It's not about softening the blow. It's about making sure you're aware of the flaws you didn't even know existed, so you can fix them before they become permanent. Like bad habits.

At its core, honest critique is actionable feedback that's both truthful and constructive. It's about pointing out where your work falters — not to tear it down, but to help you build it up stronger. Whether it's a plot twist that doesn't land, a flat character arc, or dialogue that feels stiff, it's only through honest critique that you'll understand where your story needs work.

Honest, actionable feedback is a gift.

This kind of feedback can be tough to hear. It's natural to feel defensive when someone points out flaws in your work, especially when it's something you've poured hours or even days into. (In my case, years.) But if we truly want to improve, we need to embrace those moments of discomfort. Growth doesn't happen when we're comfortable; it happens when we're challenged to be better.

They're called growing pains for a reason.

When it comes to storytelling, honest critique helps the storyteller understand where the story is weak. Whether it's a plot twist that doesn't land, dialogue that feels flat, or a character arc that feels forced — these are the kinds of things we need to hear. Without that kind of feedback, we're left blind to the weak spots in your story.

It's also important to remember that honesty doesn't mean cruelty. Critique should be helpful, not dismissive. A good critic will not only tell you what's wrong, but also give you suggestions on how to fix it. A great critic will push you to reimagine parts of your work and open your mind to new possibilities.

The key phrase here is constructive criticism. Anyone can point out problems. What matters is when someone says, "Here's what's wrong, and here's how you can make it better." That's feedback worth its weight in gold.

How to Receive Honest Critique

"I don't like being told I suck."

"How did you expect to know where to improve then?"

Receiving honest critique can feel just as difficult as giving it. After all, our work is a reflection of ourselves, and it's natural to feel defensive when someone points out flaws.

Here's the trick: when you receive feedback, don't justify your choices immediately. Don't explain why you wrote something the way you did or tell your critic why you think it works. Instead, listen carefully to what they're saying.

I've made this mistake plenty of times. It's tough when feedback feels like a personal attack or when a reviewer doesn't fully understand your vision. But it's important to remember that the critique is about improving your work, not about you as a writer.

One thing that helps me is to focus on understanding the feedback first. What part of your story is being discussed? Why do they think it doesn't work? And what can you learn from that? This mental shift helps me absorb the critique without getting defensive.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Critiquing Your Own Work

"Accepting you suck at something is the first step to eventually becoming good at it."

Now that we've covered receiving feedback from others, let's talk about how to critique your own work. I am in the fortunate position of having two wonderful beta readers who give me valuable insight. But not everyone has that luxury of charitable friends, or readers who give you commentary and reviews (cough, cough). Moreover, I don't want to give my friends dumpster-fire trash to beta read, so I do a lot of alpha-reading myself for self-critique.

In these cases, we can only rely on ourselves.

Self-critiquing your work is a skill in itself. There's no one-size fits all for people, but here's my approach:

Adopt a reader's mindset: Imagine you're reading your story for the first time. Does it make sense? Is it engaging? Is it clear? These are the basic questions to ask yourself, and they're surprisingly difficult to answer objectively when you're too close to your work. (I like to set aside my work and come back to it with fresh eyes)

Don't be afraid to rewrite: I'll be honest — I'm a slow writer and at times the rewrites are killing me. The number of chapters I've rewritten from scratch is in the double digits. That's because I ask myself, "How can I make this more clear, more engaging, or just better overall?" It's a simple but powerful question that forces you to critically evaluate your choices and refine them.

Separate your pride from your work: It's easy to fall into the trap of thinking your first draft is already great. But the truth is, it can always be better. A good draft is only the start. They say the first draft is perfect if it just exists, which means you need to then go through self-critique and edit. You need to be open to making changes, even drastic ones, if it means your work will improve in the end.

Use psychological tricks: When in doubt, step back and ask: "What's wrong with this scene?" Not "what's good about this scene?" but what's not working? This approach forces you to face the weaknesses directly and find ways to strengthen them.

Relentless Review to Refine the Craft

"Someone told me I suck at this specific part."

"Good. Now you know what sucks, you can focus on just improving that specific part. Did you thank them?"

While honest critique sets the foundation, relentless review is where the real magic happens. This step is all about taking that critique and repeatedly revisiting your work, refining and honing it over time. It's the difference between writing a rough draft and crafting a polished masterpiece.

(Not that I consider this a masterpiece yet. Honestly, once I'm done writing all 9 books, I'm going to revise the early books again with updated skills.)

Relentless review is exactly what it sounds like: not just going over your work once (1) or twice (2), but being willing to engage in deep, sustained revision. You can't expect perfection after just one pass. Think of it as chiseling away at a block of stone — you don't reveal the final sculpture all at once. The war of art takes time, patience, and persistence.

Consider this Author Note. I didn't just write it in one go and think "hmm, yeah this is ready for readers." I thought about it, considered why it would be an interesting thing to write about, then drafted it and made innumerable amounts of revision. Self-critique and relentless review.

Then again, I had to accept imperfection. Can't be throwing more than ten hours at this when I should be working on the next arc.

Keeping A List of Things You Need To Improve

"How do I get better at it all?"

"You don't try to get better at everything, just the immediate things that will bring you to the next level."

I think it's important to also be aware of your own weaknesses, then you can take the steps to address them whenever they come up. A critical point is to never assume you have no weaknesses, but also be able to verbalize them when someone asks you: so what are you working on right now?

For example, I do feel like I suck at making scenes more engaging. The first thing I ask my beta readers to tell me is whether they find a chapter boring because it's too much dialogue or not enough movement/action.

Then, the art of the cliffhanger is something I consider myself terribly weak at. I think it's due to my storytelling style in making chapters a complete scene, and I'm trying to make a few adjustments in that regard. It's a painful transition process as I figure out when and where I want to be utilizing cliffhangers.

I have other individual items I'm constantly trying to be aware of and improve upon, but feel free to point out to me in a review or commentary whenever you think something is weak but could be better. I do appreciate it.

Practice, Practice, Practice

One habit that's helped me immensely is reading other works. Whether it's high-quality books, unpublished drafts, or even online stories, there's always something to learn from others.

I'm currently reading The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O. (hilarious sci-fi-fantasy written in epistolary format), but always as a writer with a reader's mindset. What works? What doesn't? How can I incorporate what I've learned into my own writing? From character study to plot pacing, from worldbuilding to writing voice — there's so much to learn.

Additionally, reading unpolished works from emerging authors is a great way to practice your critique skills. Can I constructively explain why something didn't work for me? Why did/didn't I like it? This helps me sharpen my own ability to spot issues in my work and think of ways to fix them.

Sometimes it's not immediately clear why I hate a scene or find a paragraph wanting, so I write and rewrite it in different styles, structures, forms, etc.

This is why this next arc is taking time.