Something I really don’t think I have made a big enough deal about is that, while my wife has been reading my manuscript, I have also been reading hers.
First, I’ll go ahead and brag on her a bit.
I’ve been working on my stuff for about two years. There were many, long breaks where I did nothing with it, didn’t write, didn’t think about it, forgot it existed. About the first third of the book had been written before this summer when I finalized the plot and wrote the rest. She did it all, from developing the idea to banging out the whole manuscript, in this three month period. And she was done before me! One week. There was a bet. Ignore the man on the side of the road in a chicken costume if you’re in Memphis any time soon…
Part of the interesting part about reading each other’s stuff was finding out how anal (I had to check the spelling on that because I didn’t believe this was a homonym) I can be about feedback, whereas she doesn’t really need anything at all. She doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t drill down on points she was trying to make, she just lets it go. She’s already started the sequel.
I don’t really know what I learned from this besides the just one more difference in the way people write, read, and collaborate.