Writers: On Feedback
Feedback — useful, honest, constructive feedback — is obscenely hard to find, and often comes at a cost.
Never confuse encouragement with feedback
A writer should need no encouragement beyond their passion for story. Aside from the early praise of teachers and family leading to the watershed moment when a person understands the potential of writing as a life path, encouragement serves to raise ego above the craft, with disastrous consequences.
Feedback, on the other hand, is essential. But risky. The writer, having asked for her work to be judged, must be ready to face it. As if she blindfolds herself, then opens her mouth to accept a spoonful of an unknown food. She may trust only that it will not kill her, and that is all. Will it be bitter or bland, sweet or sour, familiar or feared?
Trusting something she desperately needs yet has no control over requires much — she must step away from hope, brace herself against the unexpected, and above all, know that it is but one bite from an infinite buffet of possibilities.
It may trigger an urge to retch or spit it out, but that is surrender. Only by naming every nuance, both palatable and not, as they tumble across her tongue, can she understand and learn from them. In the beginning, feedback is always hard to swallow, but with time she’ll learn to let the sweet soften the sour.
The When of Feedback
I could advise seeking feedback as early as possible, but that would be a disservice. I mean, you don’t want them to laugh, right? There’s a difference between criticism and humiliation, but sometimes it’s a line which is easy to miss if your work isn’t quite ready.
You must first give yourself feedback before putting your work ‘out.’ Of course, I’m assuming that you’ve done your due diligence. If it is non-fiction, your piece has a subject that you explore in a way that leads to an insight or conclusion regarding your subject. If fiction, the work includes an emotional element your readers can identify with. If it’s a blog post, you must have a point that speaks to an issue you’ve experienced, but not just your experience.
Ready? Find someplace other than your workspace. Somewhere comfortable, or outside, and preferably without your phone. Read it ‘out loud’ in your head. You want to hear yourself recite it. Don’t stop. Read from beginning to end, ignoring any urge to edit. Do you like it? Are there parts which you’re not sure of or which could be rearranged to flow better?
Be honest. It’s just us and we want the best for you. It’s important you have confidence in your work before you ask anyone for feedback. And even then, there is always risk.
Strangers Before Friends Before Family
Your family and friends, those you hold most dear, are not to be trusted when it comes to feedback. Their honesty is blunted by affection and thus their judgement will be biased. In fact, you should not even ask them — if they ask you, that’s different, but be sure they know what you expect of them before handing your work over.
I’m lucky — my wife enjoys being a sounding board for my story concepts and a career in social work endowed her with interrogation skills an Inquisitor would kill for. She never tells me she doesn’t like some aspect of my work, she simply asks questions until I realise the weakness myself.
One aspect of my wife’s feedback, though, is why I respect and appreciate her help over any others. She never, ever, offers advice or suggests an alternative element in my work.
If a reader doesn’t finish your book, they might not have liked it or maybe they never found the time to read it. It happens — a lot — because most everyone is busy attending to the demands of life and your book is just not enough of a priority.
Don’t take it personally.
A Brief but Relevant Anecdote
A broken promise pales next to the opposite situation. I had (note the past tense) a good friend from long before I rekindled my need to craft stories. We gamed together, caught all the new movies, shared the latest novels. When I began my shift from producer to writer, I had more than enough readers for my scripts and I learned a LOT from these folks because they worked to a standard and knew how to explain where I fell short. When my friend asked to read my scripts, I let him, because he would give me his personal opinion.
I decided a couple of film and TV projects had enough scope and depth to be adapted to novels, but my film acquaintances weren’t interested in reading something outside their industry. My friend enjoyed my scripts but found them ‘thin.’ So I asked him if I could run through a story with him. He was a great listener, ebullient in his praise and patient with his questions.
Now, I toss out ideas to anyone within earshot as they occur to me, mostly because I find it easier to guage an idea if I say it out loud. If I get a laugh — even a snicker — or sometimes a moment of silence that indicates I’ve made them think, the idea goes onto a fresh page in my notebook (so I don’t forget it) and it gets added to the chaos masquerading as my imagination.
Once an idea is germinating, though, I stop talking about it until there’s a certain cohesion of idea/story/theme/protagonist elements that on some level ‘works.’ This is when I pitched the idea to my friend. Within twenty-four hours, I regretted it. He showed up at the front door just before lunch the next day. I had been asleep because I write at night and often through it. I hadn’t had coffee, but he was bright as a box of birds. My story had inspired him.
It got worse. He slid his laptop onto the kitchen table and started reading all the ideas he had for my story. At first, I just listened and drank my coffee as quickly as I could. To give him due credit, every idea came out as a ‘what if?’ question, but either I had already thought about and discarded them or to use them meant a different story. Nevertheless, as the caffeine energized the gerbils in my head, I explained, in turn, why each didn’t work.
He took my — polite and reasoned — rejections personally, so I turned tables on him and began asking the ‘why?’ behind his ideas. It was downhill from there. Long story short, we no longer speak. The moral of this story, besides the danger of mixing feedback and friendship?
Don’t — or be very careful, lest a stranger approach you at a party and ask if you’re the one co-writing a novel with that friend. Yet I admit I have broken this rule. More than once. When I began writing screenplays, I did a scriptwriting workshop or three and met some other writers. One or two became friends, including a veteran of three tours as an infantryman who faced down his PTSD by writing horror scripts — he and I have co-authored three filmscripts, though you’d never catch me watching one.
Set Some Rules
I ask every reader if they’d answer a short questionnaire after they’ve finished (or stopped reading) the book. A few multiple choice and numerical ratings questions, and two short answer questions.
- What impressed them most?
- What did they like least?
These two questions are specific, and push them to find something in the book to use as an answer. There’s no room for ‘I liked it’ or ‘It was good.’
Mention a Time Frame
Always ask how long they think they might need to read the piece, because now you have raised your project’s priority rank. Then tell them you’ll be in touch around the middle of that period to see how their reading is coming along and if they have questions or comments. When you contact them, don’t push, just remind them of how much you appreciate their feedback. Convince them of their value to you and top it off with a pinch of guilt about how you’re counting on them.
By no means am I suggesting you don’t look for readers. Ask everyone you know, are related to, or work with what their reading habits are. Where you discover convergences in favourite authors or genres, let these people know you’re an aspiring writer — there is no shame in being not-yet-published.
BUT. If you are serious about gaining early readers, you better have a short one or two-sentence ‘Logline’ that states the primary conflict facing your hero, why it is important and what is at stake if she fails.
Memorize it, so you can repeat it without hesitation or stuttering. Play with it in your head as you drift off to sleep, but note any edits on a notepad then and there, don’t leave it until the morning.
Offer a Perk Upon Questionnaire Completion.
Nothing extravagant. Lunch, maybe, or even a latte. The smart ones among you might think of something that relates to your story. I wrote a novel set within the Christian Passion narrative and my daughter stitched together some natural linen bookmarks and then embroidered them with motifs from the book. Simple, practical and not disposable. When I recruited my advance readers, each received a very limited-run and durable bookmark.
If you treat your feedback readers with respect, there’s an added bonus. They’ll likely read your stuff again.
Moving Onwards and Upwards
Until now, there has been no pressure to finish a work before asking for feedback, but eventually you’ll have to complete your story. As in, it has a beginning, a middle and an ending and they more or less ‘fit.’
Your story may be a complete first draft, but don’t think it’s finished. Your next steps require more knowledgable feedback partners, but these expect more from you, too.
Writers’ Groups
Writers’ groups are a two-edged sword. Everyone starts equal, and the quid-pro-quo ensures other writers will read you. Starts, I said. Inevitably, some in the group will be of a higher calibre than most, and a few will be so poor that they seem to invite ridicule. Unless there are specific ground rules everyone must agree to, such as finding a positive element in a work before listing negatives and then suggesting solutions for each one, these meetings sometimes foster cliques or could get toxic. No bullying.
Shop around. Ask fellow local writers. Check college English Department bulletin boards. Hit up your high school English teachers. Social media sites are a great source, because with online groups you can focus on genre rather location. Look and you’ll find them.
Don’t pay to join.
Even so, writing groups, should you find the right one, can be make-or-break for a writer. Group longevity and member turnover are good indicators, and if people bring snacks, pledge your life.
Reading Services
If I may be blunt. From here on, you’ll have to pay for your feedback. Prices and services vary, and like anything else, you get what you pay for.
I’ll list those I know of and their pricing, services and level of prestige in a future article.
Do not pay for a reading service until you have finished the work* (or are stinking rich) and you are no longer embarrassed to read it. Even more important, though, is that someone else who knows what they’re doing has gone through your manuscript.
*By this I mean you have run it through a spell-check (to which you have added all your names and titles and places and made-up words) AND a grammatical AI. Grammarly is good but is SO constantly intrusive trying to up-sell their ‘pro’ version, I got rid of it. I use ProWritingAid which does cost a little but will help you in ways college couldn’t. No, I have no affiliation with them or any other website mentioned here.
Even if they are not professional editors, you need a stranger’s opinion, because at least they’ll be honest. Get revenge on your high school English teacher by asking for her opinion.
Reading services, like any other service, vary in quality and what exactly they offer. Many self-publishing service companies offer packages that may include reading or editing services, but don’t forget their business is to print your book, so — perhaps — they might not do a thorough job.
That’s not to say such an attitude is pervasive, but it is something to be aware of.
If a reading service shows up in your inbox after you joined goodreads or similar, bounce them. They promise thousands of reads but you pay your money and … nothing. Most reviewing services are frauds and AI has flayed what little trust and integrity remains.
You pay for a reading service because they rate your story in up to a dozen categories; everything from plot, emotional arc, marketability, you name it, scoring you on a scale of 1 to 10. They are also proficient at revealing your story’s weaknesses and telling you why.
A Word About Editing
Whether you choose to self-publish or you sign your book away to a traditional publishing house for 5 years in exchange for a pittance of an advance and a vague promise of royalties sometime in year three, it needs to be edited.
YOU CANNOT EDIT YOUR BOOK YOURSELF. You cannot. Period. Nor can your mother or your neighbour or anyone else you are likely to know.
Do your research on a site like reedsy, pick an editor with experience in your genre and who has reasonable fees, and go. You’ll regret it if you don’t.
There are two distinct and separate editing processes, ‘Story Editing’ and ‘Line Editing.’
Story editing is where an editor reads your book for flaws and inconsistencies, noting strengths and weaknesses, noting stereotypes and clichés. The better ones offer suggestions. Story editing comes before line editing.
Line editing is where an editor goes through your work and notes problems in sentence structure, poor word choice and other tasks handled by grammar checkers. A human line editor, though, learns your ‘voice’ and ignores certain rules breaks to maintain your unique technique.
Feedback’s Value
I mentioned it earlier but I’ll repeat it here. Don’t take feedback personally. If you vetted your readers and set some of the rules I included above, you’ll learn where you’re strong and identify areas where you need to improve.
One thing is certain: You can master your craft.
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