Receiving Feedback

Like many of us, I had no idea what I wanted to do once I went to college. I had vague ideas of being some kind of academic hat got to sit in their office all day, pouring over texts and papers, but had no idea what information those pages held. Math? Definitely not. Chemistry? Not a chance. I settled for Biology, telling myself I loved animals enough to learn about them every day for the rest of my life. I could see myself in a lab with some new species of snake, trying to come up with a name and a description. I could see myself out in the field, working in conservation to save the endangered blue iguanas. I could see myself doing a lot of things with that degree, but they were idyllic notions, a sanitized Hollywood version of what life as an academic biologist would be.

The reality was bleaker than I cared for. And after a Master’s degree and several years in a PhD program, I decided that wasn’t the life for me. It might seem drastic, I know. At this point you’re probably wondering if I’m even the kind of person you would want to take advice from. It seems fickle or flaky to suddenly decide such a thing. But this is the thing, even on my worst days in those programs, the kind of days where I spent hours teaching, then had office hours where students came to debate every single point with me, then had a paper to read to present for a seminar the next day or a presentation to prepare, I still found myself devoting time late at night to writing.

It was an escape to throw myself into a world I had created, one I looked forward to exploring. Yes, the stories weren’t great. They often had unnecessarily convoluted plots or twists that came out of nowhere. But for the first time, I loved what I did. I still have those stories saved in a folder I sometimes open when I want to remind myself of how far I’ve come.

I say all of this, reader, so you understand there’s a reason I thought I was prepared for an MFA program. I was seasoned with grad school. I knew how to present my ideas and take feedback. I knew the tricks to make it and not have my personal relationships crumble. I had survived two different programs! So, take a minute and explore with me the five hardest lessons I had to learn so you don’t make my mistakes.

1. Feedback is always scary

“Well, that’s obvious,” you say. And I would agree, it is. But it isn’t false. I knew from the first workshop that opening my writing to critique was going to be scary. I wanted to throw up as I submitted the words and wouldn’t you know it, as soon as it was submitted, I noticed a typo. This was surely going to be the end of my career. Everyone would know what a fraud I was! But it never got easier. Taking this thing you’ve worked so hard on, that you’ve spun your magic on, and letting other people pick it apart until it’s nothing but bones is always going to be scary.

Take a moment to let that sink in, because here comes another obvious one.

2. You can never be prepared for negative feedback

“That’s not true,” you say. “I’m confident enough in my work tat I can handle it.” Yeah, I thought so too. So why did I end up crying on my couch about what a failure I was more times than I would like over the last year? It will always be hard to hear negative things. It just will. And that’s okay. It doesn’t make you a temperamental emotional artist to feel some feelings about it. So, feel them.

It’s what you do next that matters.

3. Don’t immediately reject negative feedback

It’s easy to think the reader just doesn’t get it. They don’t know your style or vision and need to trust you. And you know what, you’re probably right.

But only on about 5% of the negative comments. The others, the ones questioning this decision or saying the characterization is weak, those are legit. And you could reject them straight away, but here’s the thing: if your classmates don’t understand your vision, your reader probably won’t either. So, it’s worth it to take a day or two and really consider the feedback you’ve been given. It won’t sting so bad then.

4. You don’t have to accept every piece of feedback

“You just lied to me!” you sputter. No, I didn’t. Your classmates and professors will have the best of intentions when they give you feedback, but they’re getting snippets. If there’s truly some feedback that doesn’t sit well with you in your gut, then you don’t have to use it. You are the architect. You know where this story is going but…

5. If you’re going to reject feedback, you better be able to explain why

If you can’t articulate why this particular piece of feedback doesn’t fit for your story, then you might not have a good reason to reject. Early on in my novel, I had my main character waking up from a nightmare. It sounds cliché, I know. But she lives with pretty strong PTSD and hers often manifests as nightmares. I got a piece of feedback that went on about how these kinds of sequences were superfluous and it would be an automatic rejection. My professor was adamant I needed to cut it.

You can guess where this is going, but I refused. I explained to my professor why the scene was so important and then came the soul crushing advice of, “Well then you need to make it more apparent and put more research into it. The reader won’t get that it’s PTSD from this one scene”.

I was crushed. It had been therapeutic for me to write about it and now I was being told I didn’t know what I was talking about. But, I sat with the advice for a few days and then went back and read those scenes. Critically. I looked for ways to tear them apart and you know what I found? My professor was right. There was more I could do to make it obvious from the beginning and now with those revisions, the nightmare sequences make sense.

So, there you go. These were the five toughest lessons I learned while getting my MFA. Maybe you won’t have the same experience. Maybe you’ll breeze through and every professor will think you’re the next Hemmingway. But for those of us that aren’t prodigies, keep these lessons close. And when that first piece of negative feedback feels like it’s going to swallow you up, remember you aren’t alone. You’ll get through this.

And I can’t wait to read your work, writer.