0.01 Hearthside: On Feedback
In addition to Bite Size Beta tips, I wanted to splice in some posts that don’t neatly fall into my other categories (like Character, Plot, Worldbuilding, etc), but are still crucial to the author’s journey. Because it’s Winter Solstice and I love a good fantasy reference, We’ll call this section Hearthside. Picture a warm fire where your friendly neighborhood editor tosses around some tips that may answer some lesser discussed aspects of the writer’s path.
Today, we’re tackling the aspiring author’s least favorite hurdle.
Feedback: How to Give It and How to Take It
When it comes to writing books, I tend to speak candidly that no part of the process is easy. Drafting, plotting, outlining, editing, querying—every stage has its own set of challenges, and it takes a deranged level of patience and commitment to see them through.
Upon finishing a draft, many hold up this glorious creation and think, It’s perfect! I’m done! And truthfully, it could be. That’s a line that only you get to draw for yourself, and if getting to the words “The End” was the goal, then cheers to a job well done!
If you’re looking to write books for other people to read, however, then I’m afraid the work is only beginning. But take heart! I find the revision stages to be the most rewarding. (I know. Biased coming from an editor.) It does, however, open the door to a phase that many writers fear: seeking feedback.
In the early stages, this often this takes the form of Alpha or Beta readers*, or sometimes hiring an editor depending on your publishing goals.
*An Alpha reader is someone who reads through a very early, hot-off-the-press draft to give broad, preliminary feedback. Beta readers offer more targeted feedback on drafts that have had at least one round of polish.
Note: Alpha reading takes a particular kind of trust, and it shouldn’t be used in lieu of your own revisions. It’s not even a round of feedback I necessarily encourage to all, nor one that’s strictly necessary. Established writers I know will sometimes send a raw draft to trusted peers, but it’s not the kind of feedback you’d want to open up to a stranger, particularly if you’re new to the process. Take the time to hone your own revision skills!
Finding decent readers is a post in and of itself, but before we can get into that, I want to start with something broader that every writer must confront: the art of giving and receiving feedback.
It’s not every writer’s favorite thing to hear, but finding community with other aspiring authors is key to developing your craft. For a time, I chafed against this advice, not because I didn’t want to connect with people but because I felt it wasn’t an option for me. I’m an introvert on my best day, and at the time I was revising my first book I was also chronically ill in the height of a pandemic, which left the world of social media spaces to try and cultivate connection.
I was ultimately lucky to find a small group of writers, many of whom became some of my closest friends, but it took a lot of trial and error, a lot of thankless labor, enduring catty writing circles and the nightmare that was book Twitter, and a lot of painful feedback from readers who wanted only to tear me down with bad-faith interpretations.
I don’t say all this to be discouraging. You can learn from feedback even when you don’t resonate with it, and as much as I hate when people talk about building thick skin (as if being sensitive to others is a weakness), learning to take poorly worded feedback in stride is a crucial skill.
Giving Feedback
If you want to find good beta readers, you often must become one, yourself.
I will tackle more in depth what it means to be a good beta reader, but a core thing to keep in mind is this: it’s easy to be an asshole. We all secretly love reading rant reviews on terrible movies or books we also didn’t like, and sometimes when you’re reading a book that is in rough shape, you can feel exasperated when things don’t make sense. Reading books takes time and beta reading especially takes a ton of effort, so if an author is making the same mistakes over and over, your natural reaction might be annoyance.
But remember 1) you are beta reading an incomplete product that will have mistakes, and 2) you are speaking directly to another human, another creative. I’m not suggesting you lie to them if problems arise in their books. Be truthful, but be kind.
Some people talk about the “sandwich” method of giving feedback, where you wrap a harder critique between two positives. I start all my editing letters with What’s working well so they know I’m not looking to be a dick, and so they are receptive to the critiques I do have. And make no mistake, this isn’t to trick the author into taking critical feedback; people can become just as blind to what they’re succeeding at as what their shortcomings are. We need to hear both, or we are at risk of overlooking and even cutting the gold within the story.
If you aren’t sure whether your feedback is too harsh, ask yourself how it would feel getting these notes on your manuscript. Would it sting? Is there a better way to phrase it? There is a difference between “calling attention to a snag in the story you noticed” and “calling out the author.”
Here’s an example of what not to do:
Your main character was erratic and impossible to follow. I couldn’t make myself care about them because nothing they did made sense. Even the climax of the book felt messy because I still couldn’t figure out what the MC’s problem was. You have to tell the reader what the MC wants or they aren’t going to care about anything that happens.
Versus:
Throughout the second act of the story, I sometimes struggled to follow the main character’s motivations. The climax was exciting, but since the reader wasn’t told what their goal was, the buildup was often overshadowed by questions about why they were doing X or Y.
These two samples of feedback are telling this fictional author the same thing: without establishing character motivations, the story becomes difficult to follow. You can see, however, that one is framed more as an observation and the other an accusation. Notice as well, the second example isn’t lying to the writer and pretending everything was fine. It remains truthful. Were it a real critique, I would probably use that paragraph to pivot into things about the character that are working that they can highlight in revisions just to close the point out with something positive.
The first example may be your first urge, and you can keep private notes like this on the novel as you’re reading if you need to vent your frustration somewhere. But it’s crucial that once you start to formulate your thoughts to send to the writer that you remove the accusations. Especially if you’re a writer yourself, remember that beta reading is an opportunity to build connection and community with other writers. It’s common to exchange beta reads so the labor feels equal. If you establish yourself as someone who frames feedback like it’s an attack, you’re more likely to get feedback like that, or worse, burn bridges with people who won’t want to work with you again.
Receiving Feedback
To swap seats, let’s talk now about how to be on the receiving end of both good and brutal feedback. The inevitable truth is no reader will be perfect, and even when its thorough and compassionate, taking feedback is tough. No one wants to be told this art they’ve labored on for months or years missed the mark, so even good intention critiques like the second example above can sting. Depending on where you are mentally in the process, that sting may be unavoidable.
So why do we do this then? Why would I open myself to that when I’ve just spent all this time writing the damn thing?
Because if you want to write well, you have to get another set of eyes on your book. Ideally several. The writing process may be solitary, but it has avenues where other humans can and should get involved. You know your story better than anyone, having spun it yourself, but that also means you will never be able to catch every snag, every plot hole, every cardboard character. You won’t catch that obscure world building detail that makes no sense to a reader because you naturally fill in the blanks. You will forget to delete that side plot that you thought was great when drafting and then discarded by the second half.
Getting stuck in your own echo chamber can not only plateau your progress, it can start to erode what’s working well in the book.
I hit this point with nearly every draft of my books. I labor and revise, reread until I can’t even hear the rhythm of the prose. Great sentences blend with the messy ones, and everything falls into a grayscale. It’s easy to get stuck in your world and assume that rewriting and revising forever will only make it better. Caution: That’s a trap! If the house is on fire, you don’t try to put it out from within. You get yourself out and wait for the fire department to blast that thing with a hose. Think of your beta readers and editors as fire fighters who help put out the fires that you can’t see and can’t reach while you’re stuck in the building (your novel).
I talk a lot about how badly I yearned for honest feedback after a lifetime spent suffering platitudes in academia. That first experience for me was invigorating, so I don’t want to suggest that feedback always sucks, either. It can be the very thing that puts the roadmap back into your hands.
So how do you try to make the most out of the feedback process, knowing it will rarely be perfect? It comes down to headspace, setting expectations, and knowing when to let it rest.
Headspace
This can be the trickiest part of receiving critiques on your manuscript. There are times for every writer where the brain goblins are loud. You feel crummy about the words, you lose faith in the whole project. You’re not alone. It happens to everyone. Repeatedly. So first things first: Breathe! Recognizing that cycle is important. Allow the logic brain to state its piece, that it’s not garbage, you’re just tired, and probably tired of looking at it. Finding yourself in that funk is normal and nothing to shame yourself over, but it can sometimes be an indicator that you’re not in the right place to take feedback.
It's best to approach beta readers when you are feeling strong. Acknowledge that the draft isn’t perfect, there will be notes, and that notes are what you want! If every reader returned a blank manuscript to you and said, “yup, it was good!” I can promise you would not only get immensely frustrated, but your stories would never improve. A flaw in the story is not a reflection of any flaw in you, the writer. We deal with stories on the largest scale there is in terms of the time spent within them, grappling with words by the tens of thousands, sometimes hundreds of thousands. You gotta make a mess just to get it all in front of you.
If you can feel yourself bracing before you ever send out your manuscript, if you’re cagey just thinking about someone disagreeing with choices you made in the story, then it’s not the time. Put that thing away, let it rest.
Setting Expectations
One of the rules I set for myself when seeking feedback is this: critiques are almost always valid. I can see the pitchforks and angry fingers racing to their keyboards so hear me out.
If a reader says something didn’t work, you don’t have to agree—they may have read in bad faith or just completely missed the mark on what you were going for, by no fault of anyone. Say that someone suggests that you need to add talking animals to your work of grounded fiction. Rather than being frustrated that your reader so clearly doesn’t understand your genre, consider that something within your story left this reader wanting. Your fix doesn’t have to align with their suggestion, but you can still analyze what about that critique is valid. Why did this reader feel unfulfilled?
Maybe their desperate need for talking animals suggests your protagonist spends too much time alone; maybe there’s a need for more fantastical or speculative elements if that’s part of your genre; maybe the tone of the book is so dark, the reader’s desperate for some whimsy or absurdism.
The example is silly, but you can find a kernel of truth in just about any bit of feedback you get. And if you land a reader who tears you to shreds and gives nothing but harsh, accusatory feedback, I would approach it like this: one, take it with a laugh if you can, but allow yourself the kneejerk annoyance and give yourself some time to cool off. Two: when you’re ready, see if there is truth to what they’re saying and if they only worded it badly. And the most important step: don’t work with them again.
It doesn’t make you soft for being unwilling to take abuse from a reader. There are unfortunately people, writers and readers alike, who feel empowered to tear others down. Some people just want to be cruel. Maybe they slash your story to bits because that’s how their work was treated. I’ve had readers behave rudely to me because I didn’t get a degree in writing like they did, and they felt I had to be knocked down a peg for it. Your reader may not even have ill intent, but if they aren’t working for you, move on. Find someone who gets what you’re doing.
A last note: you have to be your own governor. There are times when we kick back on feedback because they’re bad critiques and times when we do it because we’re feel defensive. To take any feedback, you must first be open to change. You must be willing to rewrite and make dramatic shifts; you cannot marry yourself to a first draft. If you find yourself rejecting every note you’re given, it may be time to ask if you’re ready for outside feedback. It certainly isn’t fair to ask people to do the labor of beta reading your story if you aren’t interested or willing to hear what didn’t work for them.
When to Let it Rest
This can honestly be one of the hardest parts of the process. There are no set rules for when to let a manuscript rest, and it may happen more than once over the course of writing. It likely should. Only you can determine that for yourself, but I’ll offer some guidelines if you aren’t sure.
First, what does it mean to let it rest? It means putting the project away and not touching it at all for a set length of time. Back when writers worked on tangible paper manuscripts, this was framed as “putting it in a drawer,” somewhere out of sight. Now that most people write books in digital word processors, it takes a little more discipline. We don’t have the physical barrier of pulling out a drawer to remind us that No, I have to let it be. It’s too easy to click on the project and pull it up just for a quick peek.
Resist this with all your might. It may feel counter intuitive if you are deep in the project, eager to work on it, hungry and motivated. Why throw out all that great energy? I’ve used that trick on myself many times and opened the project when I shouldn’t have and done another pass because I couldn’t help myself. Motivation isn’t the issue. Why it’s imperative to let is rest is because your eyes and brain need to reset.
If you take even a week away from the manuscript, to work on something new or better yet give yourself a little vacation from writing, you will spot flaws in the story you wouldn’t have had you kept yourself fully immersed. You’ll catch more typos, you’ll catch clunky sentences, even snags in the story itself. The lure of constant editing is a siren song, and you must take care that you don’t let it drown you, lest you begin to tear away at the wrong things. It’s one of the surest roads to burnout.
Sometimes you will come to one of these rest points organically, or perhaps you’ve already slipped into that burnout stage. That’s alright. It just means you may need a longer break. And if you’re not pressed by any real deadlines, take as much time as you want. I’ve put books away for an entire year before deciding they were ready to edit. I have some that have been at rest for even longer. Sometimes when you move on to other projects, certain books stay at rest forever, and that’s okay too. As you continue to develop your craft, you’ll realize some books were just steppingstones to writing better ones.
No time spent writing books is wasted, even if you never return to them. To use another metaphor, you can allow those early books to be the fertilizer from which future stories can grow. And you never know. Some ideas circle back on us when we least expect it.
As far as when to rest goes, I try to schedule a break after every completed draft. Once the first draft is done and I’ve gone through to fill in the gaps I left for myself, that’s a perfect time to step away. You may want to do this after each full pass of the manuscript.
I’ve even had to let stories rest before finishing them. It’s common for writers to start up a project, write ten thousand words and hit a wall. If you can’t break past that wall, it may be a sign you gotta put it away and let the idea cook a while longer. Pivot to a new project for a while, make the old one jealous. It can be the best way to break past those mental barriers.
Feedback Recap:
In order to write good books, you have to get feedback
Beta reading is often a two-way street for writers: it’s worth learning how to be a good beta reader so you can find good readers
When giving feedback, resist the urge to be accusatory. Sandwich critiques with positive points about what the writer’s doing well (in essence: don’t be an asshole)
When receiving feedback, keep in mind your headspace: are you in the right mental place to open yourself to critique?
Set expectations. Be willing to consider that every critique has something valid to it. Even if you don’t agree with the note, it may point to a shortcoming in the novel.
Evaluate your relationship to a beta reader. If they only want to tear you down, don’t work with them again, but also hold yourself accountable for your own defensiveness.
Learn when to let a manuscript rest. Be disciplined about allowing that break from the project, recognizing you may need to take several throughout the process.