You read the words on the page, and immediately feel awful. Every writer knows what words I’m talking about. The words of someone you asked to critique your story. Words you’ve been looking forward to in the secret hope that they will reveal everything about the story is amazing.
These words, however, don’t do that. In fact, these words say a lot of things in your story are quite the opposite of amazing. Which is decidedly not what you wanted to hear.
Okay, so you want and need honest feedback and it technically is what you wanted to hear. But it isn’t what you wanted to hear.
All writers know that a thick skin is necessary, but often I think we misunderstand what that means. I thought for years that having thick skin as a writer meant that I wouldn’t feel bad about things people said were wrong with my story. Whether the other person was right or wrong, such a writer accepted the criticism without an emotional reaction and moved on.
Hogwash. Writers are human and humans, by their very nature, have emotional reactions to things. Some stronger than others, but it happens.
No, what I’ve realized truly defines a thick-skinned writer is how one deals with criticism they don’t like hearing and the emotions that come with it.
While I’m not going to say that brutally honest criticism doesn’t sting, I’ve found a way of dealing with it that I think works well (for me) to help me use the feedback to produce a strong book. On the chance that another writer out there can benefit from my system, I’ve decided to share it for others to reference.
Step One: Feel It, Guilt Free
As I said above, humans are emotional beings and we have emotional reactions to things. Sometimes reactions can be curbed through an effort of will, it’s true. While such a skill can be admirable, I certainly don’t want to have to do that every time someone doesn’t like something about my work.
To that end, when I get negative feedback that hits me hard, I give myself permission to feel like crap about it for up to 48 hours. For two days I can sulk, argue in my head that everything they said was wrong, and just let the emotions flow unhindered.
After the two days is up, I have to start making an effort to look at it objectively and consider that they may be right about some or even *gasp* all of what they said.
I generally find that giving myself permission to feel the emotions rather than fighting them makes it much easier to consider the feedback with a clear head.
Step Two: Find the Stuff I Agree With
In every piece of feedback, I always find observations/suggestions that make me go,
“Yes! That is a great idea!”
Or
“Wow! How did I not notice I was doing that until now?”
Or
“Okay, I don’t like hearing that, but they’re right.”
These things I immediately pick out and put in my “definitely do this” list for post-feedback revisions. Honestly, this is a pretty fun stage, as it gets me hyped up and excited about working on the piece again.
Step Three: Eliminate Things That Are Only About Personal Taste
Some people just have different preferences when it comes to fiction, and that’s fine. But one can’t start changing one’s book to suit everyone’s taste. That way lies madness.
To that end, after I’ve identified the stuff I know without question I’m going to use, I go through, find all the pieces of feedback I disagree with and I’m sure are only about the reader’s personal taste, and throw them out.
I emphasize the words “and” and “only” above for two reasons.
- Just because a comment is based on someone’s personal taste doesn’t mean it’s wrong. It may reflect a serious problem that is simply manifesting through something that happens to touch on a personal taste issue for that reader.
- Even if a critique is solely about a reader’s personal taste, it’s often still useful. Sometimes it gives me an idea that I like better than what’s currently in the story anyway.
To be honest, there are usually very few comments that fit the bill to be thrown out at this step. Partly because it can be difficult to be sure of whether a comment is purely about personal taste. Still, there is generally at least one comment from every reader that fits this bill.
Step Four: The Dressing Room Test
For the comments that remain, this final test is the most important. I end up applying this test to several types of critiques, which include:
- Those where the comment is probably right and I just don’t want to admit it
- Those where one beta reader contradicts another and I don’t know who to listen to.
- Those that may just be personal taste issues, but I’m not sure.
- Those where the critique has a point, but it isn’t immediately clear whether the suggested change would serve this particular story well.
- Those I’m just really confounded by and don’t know what to make of
And others as well, but those are the main ones.
So, what is the Dressing Room Test? The test is an exercise where I think through (and often write out in shorthand) how I would change the story based on that particular piece of feedback if I were to implement it. Then I examine how it affects the story. Very much like trying on an outfit in a dressing room to see how you really look in it.
I do this regardless of what I think about the comment on the surface. Even if I disagree and think the comment is wrong, I still take the time to work through how I would go about changing the story based on it and what the story would look like afterward.
(And, yes, I have made changes, small and large, based on comments I disagreed with because the resulting change passed this test. The story is always better for it.)
Then, I ask myself two questions about the result.
- Is the story stronger because of the changes, or is just different?
- Does the result fit with what I was trying to accomplish with this story?
If the answer to both questions is yes, the comment passes and I make the change.
If the answer to question #1 is yes the story is stronger, but the answer to question #2 is no? Then the comment passes and I continue to work through different means of implementing the same feedback until I hit on something that satisfies both.
If the answer to question #1 is no the story is just different, but the answer to question #2 is yes, then the comment fails and I don’t make a change.
The Dressing Room Test works for me because it removes ego from the equation. If a potential change passes the Dressing Room Test then it will result in a stronger book and I should do it whether I like or agree with the comment the change results from or not.
With this method, I’m not sitting there wasting time trying to determine if a comment is right or wrong, or worrying about how I feel in regards to it. Instead, I’m focused on where I should be. The work ahead of me. I almost always find that once I start working on implementing the changes, the fun of writing quickly overpowers any lingering negative emotions I might have.
That’s my system. If you try it out and do find something about the system
