It's an oft-debated subject whether writers should stay true to their art regardless of anyone else's opinion, or write for a specific market. When blogging publicly like this, however, it would be pretty odd if we didn't care what our readers want. We're thinking about how to improve Strictly Writing over the next few months and we'd love to hear what you would like to see on the site.
Please tell us what you like best about the blog by taking our poll, and if you have other feedback about new things we could be doing (within reason - we don't mean stuff like posting nude pics of the team or anything) then let us know in the comments. You can even give constructive criticism if you like - we promise not to go all 'Greek Seaman' about it.
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Showing posts with label feedback. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feedback. Show all posts
There’s nothing worse than waking up with Lemon Drizzle Cake stuck to your pyjamas
Any kind of Feedback is Good. And for a writer, feedback from an agent is precious. Whereas straightforward ‘Not for us, thanks’ tells us absolutely NOTHING, a reply containing words of kind but critical encouragement is a thing to be cherished.
A day later, at any rate.
Because after your eyes have scanned the response and sent the message to your brain from seeing words like ‘sorry’, ‘although’ and ‘but’ and re-written the reply to read simply "REJECT", it’s all you can do to scour the house for a tub of Ben and Jerry’s you already know you don’t have and putting an imminent sleepless night down to the hog-wart that shares your bed. (Of course it could also have been the aftermath of the lone sausage you found lurking at the back of the fridge. Who knew it was extra spicy and would repeat for the next 48 hours? Who knew it was extra spicy and … well, you get the idea.)
And a writer who wakes up after a crappy night’s sleep is not a pretty thing.
But ‘but’s can be good. They’re a conjunctive, so it follows that, well, more words will follow. More information is going to be forthcoming. Don’t stop reading. After all, you can’t put a full-stop after a 'but' - you’ve learnt that much, right? Turn away from the e-mail/letter and take a deep breath. In fact, just take SOME breath and refuse to cry. It won’t help. You won’t even be able to SEE any more words let alone know what it is you’ve already decided they mean.
Start by ignoring the ‘sorry’ word. It’s overused after all. I had a friend who used the word ‘sorry’ before everything else she ever said. EVERYTHING. She’d stand at out doorstep after calling for me and say to whichever parent got there first “Sorry Mr/s Cooper but is Deborah there?” of course I blimmin’ well was, we were catching the school bus together. But she said it every morning without fail until it came to mean nothing. She even said “sorry” if she needed to use the loo. And her first words when she telephoned me…? Well, it doesn’t take a great imagination.
Actually I have been known to say sorry if someone steps on my foot in Sainsbury’s and I’m still not sure if I’m being facetious or whether I really AM sorry I placed my foot underneath theirs because I’m such a notorious doofus.
‘Although’ is not such a bad guy either. Although is another way of saying ‘even so’, ‘even if’, ‘whilst’…. you remember that book: Synonyms Can Be Fun? So you also remember the Good Guy coming through at the end - the full stop didn’t finish him off either, right?
Let’s try a nice analogy. Let’s say Aunty May made a Lemon Drizzle cake. Aunty May loves to cook and particularly likes to see other people enjoying her baking efforts. So today she waits with an expectant flush whilst her cake is nibbled and swallowed and then she hears: ‘Hmmmm…. that’s nice, but….’ No, No! NO! Not a But!
But…
‘…a bit less sugar would’ve made it sharper’ perhaps?
‘…maybe some grated lemon rind to give it that slight edge?’
‘… it’s not as moist as your last one.’
Okay, we’ll forget about Aunty May’s moistness conundrum for now, I’m sure she’ll sort that particular problem out herself. The point is that even though it got a but, she’s actually amassing a wealth of constructive advice (not criticism, that word can turn and bite your ‘but’ before you realise it) on how to improve her lovely Lemon Drizzle.
She’s either going to never make this cake again for as long as she lives and live in mortal fear of every future lemon she passes or else she’s going to have to bite this particular bullet and run with it (perhaps one metaphor too many).
After she's slept on it for 24 hours, of course.
On the ‘feedback’ I mean, not on the lemon cake. That would just be silly.
A day later, at any rate.
Because after your eyes have scanned the response and sent the message to your brain from seeing words like ‘sorry’, ‘although’ and ‘but’ and re-written the reply to read simply "REJECT", it’s all you can do to scour the house for a tub of Ben and Jerry’s you already know you don’t have and putting an imminent sleepless night down to the hog-wart that shares your bed. (Of course it could also have been the aftermath of the lone sausage you found lurking at the back of the fridge. Who knew it was extra spicy and would repeat for the next 48 hours? Who knew it was extra spicy and … well, you get the idea.)
And a writer who wakes up after a crappy night’s sleep is not a pretty thing.
But ‘but’s can be good. They’re a conjunctive, so it follows that, well, more words will follow. More information is going to be forthcoming. Don’t stop reading. After all, you can’t put a full-stop after a 'but' - you’ve learnt that much, right? Turn away from the e-mail/letter and take a deep breath. In fact, just take SOME breath and refuse to cry. It won’t help. You won’t even be able to SEE any more words let alone know what it is you’ve already decided they mean.
Start by ignoring the ‘sorry’ word. It’s overused after all. I had a friend who used the word ‘sorry’ before everything else she ever said. EVERYTHING. She’d stand at out doorstep after calling for me and say to whichever parent got there first “Sorry Mr/s Cooper but is Deborah there?” of course I blimmin’ well was, we were catching the school bus together. But she said it every morning without fail until it came to mean nothing. She even said “sorry” if she needed to use the loo. And her first words when she telephoned me…? Well, it doesn’t take a great imagination.
Actually I have been known to say sorry if someone steps on my foot in Sainsbury’s and I’m still not sure if I’m being facetious or whether I really AM sorry I placed my foot underneath theirs because I’m such a notorious doofus.
‘Although’ is not such a bad guy either. Although is another way of saying ‘even so’, ‘even if’, ‘whilst’…. you remember that book: Synonyms Can Be Fun? So you also remember the Good Guy coming through at the end - the full stop didn’t finish him off either, right?
Let’s try a nice analogy. Let’s say Aunty May made a Lemon Drizzle cake. Aunty May loves to cook and particularly likes to see other people enjoying her baking efforts. So today she waits with an expectant flush whilst her cake is nibbled and swallowed and then she hears: ‘Hmmmm…. that’s nice, but….’ No, No! NO! Not a But!
But…
‘…a bit less sugar would’ve made it sharper’ perhaps?
‘…maybe some grated lemon rind to give it that slight edge?’
‘… it’s not as moist as your last one.’
Okay, we’ll forget about Aunty May’s moistness conundrum for now, I’m sure she’ll sort that particular problem out herself. The point is that even though it got a but, she’s actually amassing a wealth of constructive advice (not criticism, that word can turn and bite your ‘but’ before you realise it) on how to improve her lovely Lemon Drizzle.
She’s either going to never make this cake again for as long as she lives and live in mortal fear of every future lemon she passes or else she’s going to have to bite this particular bullet and run with it (perhaps one metaphor too many).
After she's slept on it for 24 hours, of course.
On the ‘feedback’ I mean, not on the lemon cake. That would just be silly.
A matter of trust
Receiving feedback is a vital but uncomfortable part of the writing process. It can also be mighty confusing. Someone asks why you've hardly described the hero's looks, while someone else enjoys being left to imagine him. One person raves about your gift for description, while another turns their nose up at your purple prose. Someone adores the hilarious way your ditzy heroine keeps tripping over cake trolleys – but someone else cringes at her vacuousness, making you panic and scribble in a paragraph about her love of Renaissance literature.
When it's informal feedback – from friends, an online forum or a face-to-face writers' group – there might also be issues with the individual commenter's perspective. Is it a family member who just knows everything you do will be brilliant? Is it a kind person who wants to help but worries about hurting your feelings? Is it someone employing Machiavellian tactics to climb the chart on a competitive writing website? Is it an arrogant or insecure writer who feeds their ego by belittling others? Then there are those who have interesting views on your work but can't express them – they might say 'It was great!' or 'This bit doesn't read very well,' but that's the extent of their analysis.
What you want are sensible, polite, honest and thoughtful responders who can explain the reasons behind their views. But even they can end up being unhelpful. They know you want detailed comments and that you won't fall for being told you're the next Milton, so they will find something – anything – to show they are taking the task seriously. They might point out a 'mistake' – but if the same thing were in a published book, they'd see it as a clever literary device. People trust a published author to have a good reason for doing something, but they don't necessarily trust you in the same way.
For all these reasons, I'm wary about rushing in to make changes on the strength of one person's opinion. After a few days, once the sting of criticism or the joy of praise has worn off, maybe it will turn out that the person was right. Maybe a few people have made the same comment, or maybe I knew deep down that part of the story didn't work but I just kind of hoped no one would notice. Maybe they have raised an issue that never would have occurred to me otherwise, and that makes sense of everything. But it's also possible they have their own agenda or that they've completely got the wrong end of the stick.
It's great to have trusted readers who can enlighten you about how to improve your work – but if you've carefully considered feedback in cold blood and concluded that you don't agree, I think it's equally important to trust yourself.
When it's informal feedback – from friends, an online forum or a face-to-face writers' group – there might also be issues with the individual commenter's perspective. Is it a family member who just knows everything you do will be brilliant? Is it a kind person who wants to help but worries about hurting your feelings? Is it someone employing Machiavellian tactics to climb the chart on a competitive writing website? Is it an arrogant or insecure writer who feeds their ego by belittling others? Then there are those who have interesting views on your work but can't express them – they might say 'It was great!' or 'This bit doesn't read very well,' but that's the extent of their analysis.
What you want are sensible, polite, honest and thoughtful responders who can explain the reasons behind their views. But even they can end up being unhelpful. They know you want detailed comments and that you won't fall for being told you're the next Milton, so they will find something – anything – to show they are taking the task seriously. They might point out a 'mistake' – but if the same thing were in a published book, they'd see it as a clever literary device. People trust a published author to have a good reason for doing something, but they don't necessarily trust you in the same way.
For all these reasons, I'm wary about rushing in to make changes on the strength of one person's opinion. After a few days, once the sting of criticism or the joy of praise has worn off, maybe it will turn out that the person was right. Maybe a few people have made the same comment, or maybe I knew deep down that part of the story didn't work but I just kind of hoped no one would notice. Maybe they have raised an issue that never would have occurred to me otherwise, and that makes sense of everything. But it's also possible they have their own agenda or that they've completely got the wrong end of the stick.
It's great to have trusted readers who can enlighten you about how to improve your work – but if you've carefully considered feedback in cold blood and concluded that you don't agree, I think it's equally important to trust yourself.
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