Toxic Feedback: Helping Writers Survive and Thrive

Is It You . . . or Is It Them?

Is It You . . . or Is It Them? When a feedback provider criticizes a writer’s work—say he tells the writer his story could use some editing, or is pretty clever, or he didn’t get around to reading it yet—a lot of writers react in one of the following ways. They either begin loathing themselves because they are obviously terrible writers , or they begin loathing the feedback provider because he is clearly mean and insensitive, and he deserves to be punched. If you are a writer yourself, you are likely to think these responses to feedback are perfectly normal. If you are a mentally sound individual, you are likely to recognize these reactions as overreactions that could be counterproductive when trying to write more and write better. As a writer, you have no hope of surviving, let alone thriving in, the feedback process if you don’t first recognize your own role in creating the kind of toxicity that can result in literary paralysis or an assault charge. Therefore, if either of these overreactions mirror your typical response to feedback, here is a suggestion.The next time you find yourself immediately feeling angry or defensive or despondent during a critique of your work, ask yourself the following question: Is it you . . . or is it them? Think about this seriously. Dig deep in your soul for a second or two. Soon, the answer will be obvious. It is you, of course. You. You. You. Definitely you. Yes, you. In fact, even when it is them, it is still also you because, when it comes to hearing feedback, most writers are chasms of hypersensitivity. At the mere whiff of a critical remark we lose any sense of perspective, not to mention humor. Chalk this up to our artistic temperaments, or maybe some atavistic fight-or-flight response left over from our cave-writing days; regardless , the truth remains the same. When it comes to our words, we are predisposed to overreacting to feedback, a characteristic as indicative of our status as writers as hemophilia is evidence of royal lineage in Russia. Despite this reality, some writers profess to be perfectly secure in their abilities to respond rationally to criticism. To prove their point, these “secure ” writers aggressively solicit negative feedback. “Tell it to me straight,” they say to their fellow workshop participants or editors or spouses. “I want you to be brutally honest.” When I hear someone say words to this effect, a big alarm goes off in my head. Code H! Code H! This is an especially hypersensitive person! For this insight, I have Jim to thank, a pharmacist and gifted writer who took one of my first fiction-writing workshops. When Jim introduced himself to the group, he announced that he had been writing stories for years. He had shared his work with family and friends and they had all praised his efforts, but these were nice people—Jim dismissed them with a wave of his nail-gnawed hand. What he wanted from me and the other workshop members was serious feedback. To drive home the point that he could handle tough criticism, Jim also let us know that he was training for a marathon and restored vintage Mustangs. Eager for this serious feedback, Jim was the first workshop participant to submit a manuscript for discussion. The piece was a short story about a character who, coincidentally, restored vintage Mustangs and was training for a marathon. Already, Jim had demonstrated his grasp of one of the most popular, albeit controversial, tenets of fiction writing: write what you know. The following week, the group discussed Jim’s story. The readers were generous in their admiration, and the tone of the discussion was upbeat. As usual when a good story launches the workshop, some of the other participants started issuing warnings about how their own future submissions were sure to pale in comparison. This, too, had to make Jim feel good. A few evenings after the meeting, my phone rang close to midnight.The good news was that the late call did not mark the demise of a relative. The bad news was that the caller was a devastated Jim, who told me that he was going to drop out of the workshop. Clearly, everyone in the group had hated his story. He had decided to quit writing and focus solely on doling out pharmaceuticals, a far more rewarding pursuit, even in this age of Medigap. After...