There's an interesting range of reactions when you give a writer feedback on their work.
I've known a a few tell me something along the lines of "You obviously can't see the potential / You don't know what you're talking about / You're really missing out if you don't want to work with me on this..."
And you just shrug, wish them well, and let them get on with it.
(Albeit with a stab of irritation. After all, they asked for your thoughts.)
But there is another reaction, which is happily far more common.
Why are you getting another of my beloved riverbank pictures here, I can sense you asking?
Because these are the goslings, now almost two months old, and close to graduating to become geese.
When I offered them food these past weeks, did they turn up their beaks? Did they tell me I didn't know what I was doing?
No, they squeaked happily and noshed away. And now look at them. My, how they've grown.
The analogy is much the same for writers. To grow, you've got to work at it. And it's generally best to take any help that's on offer.
As regular sufferers of these musings will recall, in June last year I met a writer called Rebecca Tinnelly. She was in my group at the Winchester Writers' Festival, a little shy, but full of energy and talent.
We spent a year looking through her novel, thinking of ways to improve it. At Winchester this year, up she got in front of lots of other writers to read from the book, with great power and passion...
And this week, Rebecca was signed up by a leading literary agency.
As a writer I always prefer to show, rather than tell.
So I'll bow out now, and leave this blog to the goslings and Rebecca, and their stories.