LOVE NOTES: on critique and helping colleagues hear your opinions clearly
by Damon Suede
(A-game Advice was a monthly column offering practical
tips for winning promo that fits your personal style, strategy,
and measure of success.
Raise your hand if you’ve ever received
notes that didn’t help at all. Have you ever sat in a critique group
that wandered and wavered and had trouble accommodating all its
members equally? Or what about wrestled with giving feedback on a
book that stymied all efforts to noodle out its problems? Revision
is a hairy, scary business and we lean on each other in desperation,
anxiety, and faith because great notes make our books better.
Notes are part of the air we breathe, but
the art of giving them is hard won and oft-ignored. We all need
different things from the critique process, and once we find a few
canny, capable writing buddies who know how to steer us right, we
cling to them like a raft in rapids. Thing is, as we all get better
at giving notes the ecosystem in our groups and chapters improves
exponentially.
When I’m giving notes on anything: a
book, a party, a rollout, or a performance I invariably use a model
I learned from one of my mentors in the movie business.
-
Something good
-
Something bad
-
Something you’d change.
The academics among you will spot
old-school Hegelian dialectic in that trio but aside from that,
there’s serious wisdom which unpacks when it’s put in practice with
creators.
Opening your feedback with a
positive gets their
attention and goodwill flowing so they can hear what you say and
trust your intentions. Following with the
negative lets them know
your praise isn’t empty and that you’ve paid close attention to
areas where some things weren’t working. And finishing with an
opportunity for change
points them in a specific, practical direction and indicates
possible topics of focus or progress, wrapping things up with a
helpful bow.
Even better, this 3-part note strategy
works in
every situation: critique groups, Amazon reviews, book cover
discussions, editorial convos, award parties, Christmas dinners, the
neighbor’s garden, even your sister’s hideous bridesmaid
dresses….anything in which your opinion is solicited and you have to
proceed in a professional manner. This model allows your
contribution to be positive and substantive without taking ownership
away from the person in charge, it forces you to be precise and
mindful about downsides. And it encourages them to examine the areas
which could improve.
Some folks refer to this approach as a
critique “sandwich”, because it buries the negatives between two
slices of upbeat razzle dazzle, but I think that oversimplifies the
approach and muddies the goal. In fact, the third “Something I’d
change” section is often the most impactful because it synthesizes
the positives and negatives to give the recipient a jumping off
place, not as a blanket solution but as a way of focusing on
specific problems.
Notes can pack a wallop, if you deploy
them carefully. Beyond that Good/Bad/Change model… here are a couple
other things you might find helpful about feedback and how to make
it matter.
Specificity is critical. Give concrete details and
references so that they understand what worked or didn’t, when and
why and how. Telling someone that “It was hawt!” or “That sucked”
gives them nothing to work on. If you cannot be specific about your
reaction then you aren’t actually giving
notes they can use. As an
added bonus, learning to be ruthlessly specific in your criticism
will also develop your precision and focus in your own work.
Win-win! Pay attention
and the rewards will be mighty and magical in all directions.
Find the right time. Notes sometimes need time to
ripen, and context can change what ears here. Ask yourself: what is
the essential thing I need to convey and what can wait or even fall
by the wayside. When I go to a show or a film, I don’t give notes
backstage or at the afterparty.
Ever. Even if people
beg and cajole. They say they want the unvarnished truth right then;
they are lying. The emotions sweep everyone along and disaster is
all too possible. That’s nuts. If they want notes they need to be
calm and conscious after the fact. Instead of barfing it up on the
night, I thank people and say honest, positive things holding my
opinions until everyone’s had time to decompress. BUT everyone in
show business knows they can call me in 24 hours and I’ll discuss
and critique in exhaustive, ruthless detail, just NOT on the night.
The same goes for books. Why would you critique something the day
after it’s finished or an hour before a submission deadline? Give
people time to be open and attentive. Timing can make all the
difference between wasted, painful drudgery and insight that
transform a project into a shimmering miracle woven from dragonfluff
and unicorn bone.
Support their efforts. It’s called
giving notes because it
isn’t about you. Hell, you may be more educated, experienced,
insightful, brilliant, perceptive, connected, mature, or successful…
but once you agree to give someone notes you have agreed to make
their project your focus for as long as it takes to react
specifically and professionally. Give them the gracious courtesy you
would expect, that everyone should expect. One of the easiest ways
to spot a complete newbie in a writing group waiting for a crazy
harangue about how everyone’s projects can be completely changed to
reflect imaginary books they haven’t written. That sucks. I say that
because I once WAS that opinionated jerk and whatever value those
notes had, I wasn’t serving their process at all. Please note that
in a critique group this showboat habit can turn into a toxic
bloodbath if left unchecked. If your notes start to feel like
grandstanding or piling on, what you’re doing isn’t notes but a
soliloquy about your own perspicacity. Go find a production of
Hamlet to star in.
Notes aren’t solutions. When you give feedback,
your job is not to solve those problems, but to point out where they
may exist. If you are solving the problems then you are writing the
book for them which stretches critique and editorial into something
closer to ghostwriting. Yes…we’ve all thrown an idea to a friend or
suggested a line or a twist or a title, but when you start
rebuilding a scene or a character or book from scratch, you are
tempting fate, grace, and human decency. Someone, somewhere is going
to feel used, abused, or confused so you are begging for tears and
outrage down the line. Seriously examine the relationship and your
mutual expectations.
Pick your battles. Unless you are a paid editor, an
intimate, or a dedicated writing colleague, don’t bury people in an
avalanche of thoughts about what their book should be. Unless I’m
looking at something for a close friend or a paid gig, I try to
limit my notes to only three
main areas/topics. After a certain point people can’t absorb
anything else. If you overwhelm them, they’ll zone out and NOTHING
will get fixed. Even better, by focusing, you can help them
prioritize what’s essential and what’s gravy. Boiling all my
reactions down into three sections helps me to be more coherent and
helpful with my comments.
Listen to their voice. More than anything the
greatest act of critique is one of generosity to pay full attention
to a project that hasn’t really earned your full attention yet.
Rather than allowing yourself to give your solutions, your voice to
this story, bend your ear to their glorious
possibility. Look for the
oak tree in the acorn. Try to see what this artist, in their
best moments, is aiming for. Look for where, in their worst moments,
their craft, their experience, or their abilities fell short. And
finally, see if you can sense the opportunities to tune into their
unique tone/world/take/vibe, probe for areas where their special
magic lies dormant, where the beauty of their story is hidden like
water underground, so they know where to
drill.
Originally published as part of A Game Advice for the Romance Writers Report.
If you wish to republish this article, just drop me a line.