I was recently talking to a newer writer about the process of beta reading: providing feedback on an early draft in order to help a fellow author in revisions. Coincidentally, I had also just picked up a book that I’d helped beta read some years past, and out of curiosity went back to my notes to see what I’d thought about certain sections at the time. It occurred to me both that I’ve come to beta read in a somewhat peculiar way, and that folks who are new to it (especially who aren’t writers themselves, but might want to support a writer in their lives) might find my approach, or any approach, helpful.

My main philosophy behind beta reading is to try to be a very self-attuned reader. It’s common for writers to be beta readers, because we’re frequently trading critiques with other writers, but the main value we bring in most cases is as readers rather than as writers. Sometimes I do make suggestions as a writer, of ways that I might do things myself. But it’s worth remembering why someone is usually seeking a beta read in the first place: they’re so familiar with the text that they can’t see it as it is, they can’t tell how it will come across to someone else. And without that insight, they can’t finish or edit it. As such, I think a beta reader ought to be paying close attention both to the text and to their own experience of reading the text. That’s easier said than done, but you can give yourself an advantage if you go into it with a plan.

That all said, I rarely do all of these for a given read. It doesn’t always make sense, I don’t always have time, I forget stuff. What I’m describing below is kind of my ideal beta read. At least, right now. Next time I do one I might decide that some of this doesn’t work well after all, or something else works better. As with all writing, keep your audience (the author of the piece you’re critiquing) in mind – not least, that they’re a human person who just entrusted you with something that probably means a lot to them! If you’re critiquing a new writer particularly, that means thinking very carefully about not only what you say but how.

Planning a beta read

OK, so I’ve been asked (or offered) to do a beta read. First, I greatly prefer to read finished drafts. I’m willing to read the first portion of something and give my thoughts, but I generally won’t agree to read more after that. I just find that once I start seeing the effects of my comments, I tend to feel a sense of ownership, and that’s just not appropriate. So I’ll usually either ask to wait until the draft is done, or gently explain the above. That’s just my preference, but I’d suggest thinking very hard about whether we might be in the same boat in terms of that whole sense of ownership thing.

So let’s say I’ve got that finished draft. The first thing I like to do is to ask what someone needs out of my read. When they step back from the keyboard, what are they worried about? I recently got a beta read of a mystery, and I said up front that I was worried the characters weren’t believable, and that the mystery at the core of the story itself wouldn’t work. Sometimes people are worried about their dialogue or the ending, or they just don’t know what the story needs.

I also like to ask about deadlines. Often writers are so thankful for a read that they’ll say “whenever you can get to it is fine” (I’m guilty of that myself sometimes) but deadlines are helpful to me. I want my help to be timely, and I want to not lose track of it. There’s nothing worse for a beta reader than to finally get around to reading something and send back a nice critique… only to find out the story is already on submission, with flaws that the author now wants to fix but can’t. Plus, I have trouble prioritizing without a deadline. Then too, I sometimes just forget; this lets the person I’m reading for have an opportunity to remind me. (It can be nerve wracking to remind someone they promised you something, especially when it’s open-ended! Having explicit permission up front is a kindness)

I usually get a sense at this point of what sort of book this is, and I’ll think about whether this is the kind of book I usually read. I’m usually willing to give anything a try, but it’s sometimes a good idea to let the author know ahead of time, hey I’m not usually up for Bigfoot erotica, so I’ll be reading from that perspective, in case you want to find an additional/replacement reader who’s more into it or who knows the genre conventions a bit better. (But sometimes that’s exactly the kind of reader they need!)

While reading

I tend to do my beta reading in Word, so that I can make notes as I go in comments. Otherwise, I’ll hand-write them and type them up with page numbers. My goal as I read is to be as attuned as possible to myself as a reader. Any reaction I have that the author might want to know about, I try to get down on paper. If there’s someone in your life who can’t shut up while watching a movie, channel them. At the text level that might be:

• Anywhere I had a strong emotional reaction, especially where I laughed (humor is tough!)
• Anywhere I was confused, and what I thought was happening that turned out to be wrong. (For me, “I’ve lost track of who’s talking” is pretty common) Conversely, wherever I have an epiphany, suddenly understanding something from earlier.
• Anywhere I was bored, or conversely particularly riveted
• Anywhere I experienced disbelief at what’s on the page (e.g. “I’m not sure I believe this character can run up five flights of stairs while playing bagpipes”) or notice a contradiction (“I’m pretty sure this person was dead”)

Note that, “I’m pretty sure” language, by the way. I try to phrase things in terms of my reaction, my emotions, my mental state. Other readers might have different reactions to what’s on the page, and when I start stating things as fact (“This is boring”, “This is really funny”) it’s harder to figure out what to make of it all, and the question becomes which reader is right and which is wrong. If all the readers focus on themselves, none of them are wrong; the author can figure out why the text might have struck them different ways. Yeah, that’s implicit, but people are weird.

I also like to give feedback on what I’m feeling about the characters in the moment, like “I think this character isn’t trustworthy” or “I sure hope this character survives the coming fight”. Or, about the world, “This economic system strikes me as terribly unfair” and “I’m enjoying the giant rubber dragons used for transportation.” And of course about the story itself, “I bet Mr Boddy is going to be the victim; he’s really got it coming.” You might need to be careful with new writers, and explain: it’s not their job to make all your dreams come true. Sometimes it’s really important for me to really be pulling for a character who’s absolutely going to get it in the neck – and perversely, sometimes I’ll be disappointed when what I hope for actually happens! I really hoped Frodo could come through Mount Doom unscathed, but it sure as hell made for a better story that he didn’t, and my sincere hoping otherwise made the experience all the more satisfying. I want good things to happen to my new imaginary friends… but that’s not what they’re for.

Now, there’s an art to making this not too annoying. A continuing blow-by-blow like a YouTube reaction video will probably not be that helpful. Because honestly, that’s exhausting, and chances are high that something important will get drowned out. So I keep it sparing, marking something when it really jumps out at me. Not everything I make a note of while reading needs to make it into my final feedback, too. I’ll usually go back and remove repeated comments or stuff that just doesn’t seem useful. But anywhere I turned out to be wrong, that stays in (sometimes with a note in retrospect). Because when a reader is wrong about something, that’s useful to know.

What’s not in that list? Spelling. Grammar. All the stuff I know perfectly well the author knows how to fix and will get around to eventually. Unless it genuinely caused me to stumble, I leave it be. Better to focus on the stuff the author can’t as easily see for themselves.

Between chapters

I like to take a break between chapters and do some reflection. Not all of it makes it into the critique, again, but it’s helpful to think over a few things:

• What do I think just happened in that chapter?
• What stood out to me in terms of character development or events?
• What do I expect to happen next? What do I hope happens next?
• What promises do I think the author’s made? (“With all the talk of avoiding a war, I think a war pretty much has to break out” or, “Oh, I can’t wait until she finally stands up to her sister, the writing’s definitely on the wall there”)

If I’m reading a mystery, I’ll spend some times on that aspect: Who do I think is going to get killed, who do I think did it, what was my take on any shocking new evidence. I’ll flip back to earlier chapters and see if I changed my mind. This artificially makes me one of the top end of readers, the most perceptive folks who even when reading it through without taking notes are just that good.

Note that all of this is “me as a reader” talking, not “me as a writer”. As a writer I can sometimes pinpoint why something didn’t work for me, but I try not to say what I think might fix it. The author can always ask, and I’ll have time to bring it up later.

On finishing

When I finish, I do a few things.

First, I try to summarize what I just read. It’s a little like writing a book report, or a synopsis. I don’t try too hard to get it right or refer to my notes. This is to let the author know what I absorbed, and especially what I misunderstood. Mistakes here are good, if they’re honest ones! Don’t worry about looking like an idiot, just get it on the page.

Next, I skim through my comments and see if anything stands out. Individual things that were important, patterns I noticed, and especially the stuff I liked! By the time the author gets through all this, they’re probably feeling a little beaten-up. So don’t forget to talk up all the stuff you enjoyed; it’ll put some wind in their sails.

Then, the problems. What did I walk away dissatisfied with? What questions are still hanging? What just didn’t feel right for the story? Did it not stick the landing? I’ll work these in with the good stuff, and see if I can organize it all reasonably well. I try to keep a mix, to never have a huge run of negativity without pointing out something good. And if I really can’t do that, then that’s usually a sign I need to step back and think about the work at a higher level. I’ve never yet come upon a story I couldn’t find good things to say about, but I hope if that day ever comes I’ll be able to say so as gracefully and kindly as possible.

Lastly, lastly, if I have any suggestions, I put my writer hat back on and (with lots of caveats and “I will not be offended in the slightest if you read no further than this”) I’ll make suggestions. I often skip this even when I do have thoughts, if I don’t know the author well enough. That’s the biggest difference (to my mind) between a beta reader and an editor: the editor’s job is to help the author tackle the stuff that doesn’t work. The beta reader’s more like a home inspector than a contractor: “Roof leaks. Probably better fix that. How? No idea. Ooh, that wiring is not up to code, yikes.” But I’m a writer, so I usually can’t resist. I just try to keep it to the end so it can be ignored.

After finishing

After I’ve sent the email, I usually get questions. Sometimes I ask them. A bit of conversation can be nice, because it can be very lonely to be sitting on a completed manuscript and desperately want to talk to someone about it.

One more important thing after finishing: I almost never agree to beta read the same thing twice, including chapters that I haven’t seen. I take one bite at the apple, and that’s it. I find that I can’t get enough distance from it; I keep watching to see if the author took my advice. I’m more likely to be willing to read a short section, especially if it’s new words, but once I’ve done one read I can’t do another one and do anywhere near as good a job. Much better to wish the author luck, offer to keep answering questions, and promise to buy a bunch of copies for gifts once it’s out. (I typically wait to read it then too, until enough time has passed and I don’t remember what I said.)

Anyway, that’s it. I hope that’s helpful to someone! Beta reading is well worth doing, both to help out your friends, and to become a better writer yourself. Nothing stops you from practicing on already published work either (though maybe keep it to yourself unless you moonlight as a reviewer) And the nice thing about this all is that it can carry over to reading your own work as well. That’s a lot harder, but with some practice on other peoples’ work first, you can learn to read like a reader. A real one. You know what I mean.

So now I’m curious: what do you all look for when you beta read? What do you need out of a beta reader yourselves, especially if that all doesn’t cover it?