Editor’s note: This post has been updated for formatting and clarity. Some reflective comments were added in 2025.

I finally got to present my short story to my fiction class, and the comments I received were worth the wait. (I had food poisoning the day I was scheduled for critique, so I was in limbo for two weeks.) As confident as I am in my writing ability, I was nervous because my classmates all wrote in a modern setting. Also, our professor told us he didn’t want us to write fantasy—but I did anyway because that’s the kind of fiction I want to write.

Here’s a synopsis of the story: Solomon and Grant are bounty hunters pursuing a murderer who has taken refuge in a small village. Grant’s reckless actions earned himself and their fugitive a noose around their necks. The village chief—a terrifying woman named Gwenhywfar—will only allow Solomon to save one of them. As Solomon reaches his decision, a villager informs Gwenhywfar that her son died of the injuries Grant caused. Gwenhywfar shoots Grant, forcing Solomon to take the murderer he was after in the first place.

These are some of my favorite comments (in no particular order):

• “What is a dirge?”
• “What kind of Native American tribe is this if [a woman] is chief?”
• “Why are they both pointing their guns at Grant?”
• “What does this mean: ‘the hammer of his gun’?”
• “Thank you, THANK YOU for doing something that wasn’t set in modern times!!”
• “I think you juggled too many characters, a plot that you have no experience in, and a motivation you likely have little attachment to. This story is very ambitious as it’s about bounty hunters who f*** up and then have their whole task turned onto them. You execute the story-plot clearly, but I just think emotional qualities were missing due to this (most likely) being a foreign circumstance to you.”
• “I really like the psychology of the situation that Gwen put Solomon in; it was mentally engaging and it made me wonder what I’d do in that situation.”
• “I don’t know that I like how Gwen killed Grant so suddenly. It was very sudden, and interrupted the flow a bit.”
• “The two G’s are jazzing here.”
• “Dirge sounds awkward. Rephrase.”
• “That being said, I see creativity and talent in the noodles and oodles. I’m excited to see what stories you bring to class next.”
• “There are literally no words I can say to describe how badass this story was. I was engaged and curious the entire time, and tense, too. I have no complaints. I’m sorry I’m not helpful. I just really like the story.”
• “Not sure WHAT era we’re in, but I can’t imagine such a high-ranking person being a woman.”
• “This is like a badass chapter from the Django/John Wayne Diaries.”
• “What’s a mantle?”
• “[The word ‘niggling’] seems awkward.”
• “Good title, such a different story than the ones we have read. Well written as is written in the time of the event. The ending is well resolved. How do you know about all of this stuff? It’s very interesting. I enjoyed it very much. Too many dicks…”*
  • *That last comment was a little difficult to make out; the last sentence might say “too many dies,” but it also looks like “too mong dicfs.” Since Gwenhwyfar was the only female, I’m assuming I read it correctly.

From this, I’m saddened about my classmates. Usually the word I get the most grief over is “niggling” or some derivative of it. Only two people questioned it. Most of them wanted to know what a dirge is, or what I meant when I said that Gwen wears a fur mantle on her shoulders.

Sadly, few people signed their names, even though we are supposed to. Personally, if someone is too scared to admit to their opinions, I’m going to disregard them.

Update: Some Things I’d Add Today

With the distance of time and a—hopefully—more mature perspective, I can clearly define what’s going on in the comment that begins with the claim I juggled too many characters. The valid critiques of complexity and emotional depth on the page are undermined by the commenter’s presumptions about me rather than my writing. The speculation on my capacity rather than focusing on the story—not to mention the implication that one/I can’t write convincingly about something outside of lived experience—renders much of this feedback worth disregarding. I knew that when I first read the comment, but I felt that way out of hurt feelings rather than understanding that not all feedback is valid.

The biggest change over time is my feeling toward the sexist comments. I remember there being a strong debate during the verbal portion of my critique on whether it was realistic and authentic for a woman to hold a position of power. While I was annoyed at the time, I’m now appalled. Not just because of how many of my classmates made it clear that, in their worldview at the time of my critique, leadership and authority are only suitable for males. What angers me now is the delayed understanding that my professor shared this worldview and was continuously dismissive toward both female characters and female-identifying students.

In a classroom setting, you often don’t have much say in who is leading the critique. Even if I had been more aware of the systemic sexism allowed in that setting, I don’t know what power I would have had to fight it—or if I would have had the courage. Probably not. I can only be glad what I experienced did not stop me from writing about badass women.