Kurt R.A. Giambastiani

If you don’t have one, you need one. In fact, you need several.

I’m talking about beta readers, those folks you lure/ wheedle/ cajole/ beg/ entrap into reading your baby, promising them anything from sex to chocolate to whisky—for the record, that last one is the coin of my realm—in order to get their input, their take, their particular and specific impressions.

This weekend, I received the draft copy of a new memoir from the talented, wry, and always engaging Todd Baker, whose first book, Ten Year Run: A Marathoning Memoir, I was lucky enough to beta-read. His new work, about his lifelong love of heavy metal music, promises to be a hell of a lot of fun, not to mention a good dose of humor in a difficult time.

I’m lucky, also, in that Todd is one of my beta readers.

My circle of beta readers is small but trusted. I count among them teachers, analysts, avid readers, editors, and literature majors. But none of them are full-time or even part-time writers.

Why?

Two reasons: timing and quality.

Over the years, I have asked some of my full- and part-time writer friends if they would beta read for me. The answer was almost invariably, “I just don’t have the time.” Having been a part-time writer myself, I can understand this. Writing takes time—a lot of time—and it’s often hard enough for part-time writers to read a book, much less read with an editorial eye. For full-time writers, time is at an even greater premium. So, after multiple polite and often apologetic refusals, I simply stopped asking.

Of those few who agreed, when it came time for the beta readers to pick up the mantle, I usually had to wait three months for any feedback from writers and that put a serious crimp in my timelines. If I’m writing on spec or self-publishing, this delay is annoying and cumbersome, but if I’m writing to a deadline, this is disastrous. My contract timelines don’t have a three-month feedback lag built into them.

Finally, of those who did provide feedback, I received one of two types of response: an over-glossed, insubstantial “works for me” or—in one case—a flippant, lazy, and extremely unhelpful “toss it out and start over; you can do better.” No “why” or specific issues that he found. Just a “toss it out.” Now, I know I’m not the best writer in the world, but I do not believe any of my completed books is so awful that the baby should be thrown out with the bathwater.

I’ve honed my circle of beta readers; each member provides something different, something specific. Some are better at the “macro” level and provide great input on content and structure, plot and character. Other readers are terrific line-editors, finding every typo, every grammatical “oops,” and every oft-repeated phrase. They can’t always suggest how to fix it—no worries; that’s my job—but just by shining a light on the problem, they always help me improve my book.

So, when you find a beta reader—a good one—keep them happy. They’re worth the search, and definitely worth the chocolate.