The Feedback Date
FEEDBACK FEEDBACK FEEDBACK SOMEBODY TURN OFF THE MIKE!
Whew. That’s better.
Sometimes feedback is awesome-we write better, we work harder to earn approval from the person who gave great constructive criticism last time, we learn “Hmmmm….maybe that reference isn’t as widespread as I thought it was,” or “Funny? I didn’t mean to be….”
Other times feedback is just a high whining sound distracting us from the music.
What’s good feedback? How do you use it? How do you give it? And in the world of Strangers on Teh Interwebz, how do you develop a critique relationship? The more you trust your fellow writers the better your feedback will be.
Like early-stage dating, writers employ polite euphemisms. A successful evening doesn’t start with “Is that your real hair color? Because you should change it.” No. We feel around a little, assume that if we keep chatting we’ll eventually see if the carpet matches the curtains.
“Your hair is such an interesting color…I was blond as a kid, were you?”
In an entry’s comments, we might find the following easily-translatable phrases.
“Great concept!”
Too bad you couldn’t write it.
“This has so much passion!”
WTF are you talking about?
“I loved your structure!”
At least it had a beginning, middle and end. Thank God it had an end.
“Can’t wait to see what happens next!”
Nothing happened.
“:)”
:\
And of course the classic authorial response,
“Thanks for reading!”
That’s all you have to say? Don’t you understand I NEED A HIT OF COMMENT CRACK.
Giving and getting better feedback is as easy (or as soul-crushingly difficult) as “Lower…not that low…a little harder please.” What we really want is that writer to get better, or our readers to magically know how to feel. But that’s not happening without clear communication.
HOW TO GET USEFUL FEEDBACK
Make sure you’re easy to read. Good font size and nice color contrast make the path to your style, craft and concept as easy as possible. Sure, it’s shallow. But you’d do your hair and pick a nice shirt before that first date. Make sure serials are self-contained--don’t tell long stories that need backstory to someone you just met. Mind your length. Anything over about 900 words wears the reader out.
Check out your reviewers. Do you hate Susie-Q’s comment, but usually agree when she comments on other people’s work? Maybe take another look. When Bob posts on someone’s piece and you think "Dude, did you *read* it?" then take Bob less seriously when he talks about yours. Read the critique-er’s work. Did someone criticize your characterization and you’ve hated every piece of slash fan-fic they’ve ever written? Let it go.
Watch for comment patterns. Does everyone wonder what happens next? Did nobody comment about that big twist you hoped they’d all get? If enough readers are asking about what you meant, it's not on the page as strongly as it is in your head.
And just like in bed, ask for what you want. Some writers put a note at the end or in their first comment, asking for concrit. It’s OK to be specific:
"I'm just trying to get the plot down - would love some feedback on that."
"Anyone got any thoughts on whether my dialogue rings true?"
HOW TO GIVE GREAT FEEDBACK
Nobody wants to be That Mean Person Who Insults Writers. But thoughtful feedback is a golden gift. Praise makes us happy. Criticism makes us write better. How can we give meaningful, positive, useful feedback, even if it’s harsh, and maybe even funny?
Try the Critique Sandwich. A nice comment, a question, another nice comment.
“Great setting, love how you built the world! I didn’t completely understand why Inara killed Meri-is there back story I didn’t get? The death was really vivid, I’d love to know more about why!”
Notice that the critique-er mentions it might just be them. This allows the critique-ee to take ownership by actively agreeing-or write it off if it hurts their feelings (which may not make them write better, but is a legitimate emotional response. Different post.)
Try questions rather than corrections: "Is the wedding meant to be a dream?" rather than "Did not believe tap-dance on altar, LAME!!!!!!"
Be specific: "Charley sounds like a sailor to me when he says, 'aye!' but you say he's a soldier, so I was a little confused" is more helpful than "Charley didn't seem like a soldier."
Talk about "working" and "not working" rather than "good" or "bad".
Engage pieces on their own terms. Don’t expect genre to be literary or vice-versa. "The mood here is really intense, especially in these lines, should that be eased up a little or is it working for the 'horror' feeling?" instead of "Overwrought!"
Ask questions and discuss the answers using specific points in the work.
"Did anyone understand what she became at the end of the story? From this sentence, I got demon."
"Huh - where it says her cloak swirled, I felt like she was more of a vampire. Did anyone else get that?"
BASKING IN THE AFTERGLOW
In a traditional writer's workshop (like a grad school class or a retreat) writers work hard not to "defend". If they get engaged in explaining their work, they miss helpful comments, or someone with a great criticism might think the writer doesn't want to hear it.
Critique-er: "I don't understand why Juliet kills herself, since her monologue is so hopeful in Act V."
Shakespeare nods his head, writes down the comment, and then may choose to address this by:
- rewriting the monologue to be hopeless
- cutting the monologue
- having Romeo's note sound like he's dumping Juliet instead of coming back
- having the Nurse tell Juliet she'll never be able to see her husband again
- having Juliet's father lock her in a room with no escape
- deciding that the person who asked this question is a dumbass who just didn't get it, and changing nothing, because his other two readers said it worked just fine
So Shakespeare need not answer the question or explain why the monologue is, in fact, hopeless--he just goes back to writing.
If you truly think a criticism is wrong wrong wrong, but you respect the person who offered it, ask questions. Instead of, "Her monologue reflects how she feels at the time!" Shakespeare might ask, "Can you point out some words you feel are hopeful?" or "Is it the structure or the content that feels hopeful here?" or "What if I added a scene with the Nurse taking away the hopefulness?" or "What if the monologue was in her bedroom instead of the garden?"
As writers, this lets us engage with critique while protecting us from over-explaining our work. For me, the battle is to find and develop readers whom I trust, so I spend more time fixing and less time saying, "they're dumb and didn't get it."
DO I SUCK?
Anyone engaged enough with your work to offer feedback is a win. Writers are more likely to critique something they loved with little flaws, or liked with great potential. If it’s boring or terrible, they’ll probably just say something nice and move on.
Treat critique like sex. Give as much as you can, paying attention to what the writer needs. Ask specifically for what you want, and remember that some people are lousy at it. If you’re hurt, speak up. If you’re not in the mood, it’s OK to politely decline.
Now let’s put on some soft music and get down…to writing.
___________________________________________________________
whipchick loves being first.
.
Whew. That’s better.
Sometimes feedback is awesome-we write better, we work harder to earn approval from the person who gave great constructive criticism last time, we learn “Hmmmm….maybe that reference isn’t as widespread as I thought it was,” or “Funny? I didn’t mean to be….”
Other times feedback is just a high whining sound distracting us from the music.
What’s good feedback? How do you use it? How do you give it? And in the world of Strangers on Teh Interwebz, how do you develop a critique relationship? The more you trust your fellow writers the better your feedback will be.
Like early-stage dating, writers employ polite euphemisms. A successful evening doesn’t start with “Is that your real hair color? Because you should change it.” No. We feel around a little, assume that if we keep chatting we’ll eventually see if the carpet matches the curtains.
“Your hair is such an interesting color…I was blond as a kid, were you?”
In an entry’s comments, we might find the following easily-translatable phrases.
“Great concept!”
Too bad you couldn’t write it.
“This has so much passion!”
WTF are you talking about?
“I loved your structure!”
At least it had a beginning, middle and end. Thank God it had an end.
“Can’t wait to see what happens next!”
Nothing happened.
“:)”
:\
And of course the classic authorial response,
“Thanks for reading!”
That’s all you have to say? Don’t you understand I NEED A HIT OF COMMENT CRACK.
Giving and getting better feedback is as easy (or as soul-crushingly difficult) as “Lower…not that low…a little harder please.” What we really want is that writer to get better, or our readers to magically know how to feel. But that’s not happening without clear communication.
HOW TO GET USEFUL FEEDBACK
Make sure you’re easy to read. Good font size and nice color contrast make the path to your style, craft and concept as easy as possible. Sure, it’s shallow. But you’d do your hair and pick a nice shirt before that first date. Make sure serials are self-contained--don’t tell long stories that need backstory to someone you just met. Mind your length. Anything over about 900 words wears the reader out.
Check out your reviewers. Do you hate Susie-Q’s comment, but usually agree when she comments on other people’s work? Maybe take another look. When Bob posts on someone’s piece and you think "Dude, did you *read* it?" then take Bob less seriously when he talks about yours. Read the critique-er’s work. Did someone criticize your characterization and you’ve hated every piece of slash fan-fic they’ve ever written? Let it go.
Watch for comment patterns. Does everyone wonder what happens next? Did nobody comment about that big twist you hoped they’d all get? If enough readers are asking about what you meant, it's not on the page as strongly as it is in your head.
And just like in bed, ask for what you want. Some writers put a note at the end or in their first comment, asking for concrit. It’s OK to be specific:
"I'm just trying to get the plot down - would love some feedback on that."
"Anyone got any thoughts on whether my dialogue rings true?"
HOW TO GIVE GREAT FEEDBACK
Nobody wants to be That Mean Person Who Insults Writers. But thoughtful feedback is a golden gift. Praise makes us happy. Criticism makes us write better. How can we give meaningful, positive, useful feedback, even if it’s harsh, and maybe even funny?
Try the Critique Sandwich. A nice comment, a question, another nice comment.
“Great setting, love how you built the world! I didn’t completely understand why Inara killed Meri-is there back story I didn’t get? The death was really vivid, I’d love to know more about why!”
Notice that the critique-er mentions it might just be them. This allows the critique-ee to take ownership by actively agreeing-or write it off if it hurts their feelings (which may not make them write better, but is a legitimate emotional response. Different post.)
Try questions rather than corrections: "Is the wedding meant to be a dream?" rather than "Did not believe tap-dance on altar, LAME!!!!!!"
Be specific: "Charley sounds like a sailor to me when he says, 'aye!' but you say he's a soldier, so I was a little confused" is more helpful than "Charley didn't seem like a soldier."
Talk about "working" and "not working" rather than "good" or "bad".
Engage pieces on their own terms. Don’t expect genre to be literary or vice-versa. "The mood here is really intense, especially in these lines, should that be eased up a little or is it working for the 'horror' feeling?" instead of "Overwrought!"
Ask questions and discuss the answers using specific points in the work.
"Did anyone understand what she became at the end of the story? From this sentence, I got demon."
"Huh - where it says her cloak swirled, I felt like she was more of a vampire. Did anyone else get that?"
BASKING IN THE AFTERGLOW
In a traditional writer's workshop (like a grad school class or a retreat) writers work hard not to "defend". If they get engaged in explaining their work, they miss helpful comments, or someone with a great criticism might think the writer doesn't want to hear it.
Critique-er: "I don't understand why Juliet kills herself, since her monologue is so hopeful in Act V."
Shakespeare nods his head, writes down the comment, and then may choose to address this by:
- rewriting the monologue to be hopeless
- cutting the monologue
- having Romeo's note sound like he's dumping Juliet instead of coming back
- having the Nurse tell Juliet she'll never be able to see her husband again
- having Juliet's father lock her in a room with no escape
- deciding that the person who asked this question is a dumbass who just didn't get it, and changing nothing, because his other two readers said it worked just fine
So Shakespeare need not answer the question or explain why the monologue is, in fact, hopeless--he just goes back to writing.
If you truly think a criticism is wrong wrong wrong, but you respect the person who offered it, ask questions. Instead of, "Her monologue reflects how she feels at the time!" Shakespeare might ask, "Can you point out some words you feel are hopeful?" or "Is it the structure or the content that feels hopeful here?" or "What if I added a scene with the Nurse taking away the hopefulness?" or "What if the monologue was in her bedroom instead of the garden?"
As writers, this lets us engage with critique while protecting us from over-explaining our work. For me, the battle is to find and develop readers whom I trust, so I spend more time fixing and less time saying, "they're dumb and didn't get it."
DO I SUCK?
Anyone engaged enough with your work to offer feedback is a win. Writers are more likely to critique something they loved with little flaws, or liked with great potential. If it’s boring or terrible, they’ll probably just say something nice and move on.
Treat critique like sex. Give as much as you can, paying attention to what the writer needs. Ask specifically for what you want, and remember that some people are lousy at it. If you’re hurt, speak up. If you’re not in the mood, it’s OK to politely decline.
Now let’s put on some soft music and get down…to writing.
___________________________________________________________
whipchick loves being first.
.