Thursdays with Jen: Feedback, the Gift You Hate-Need
On the shitty shift of feedback and how it drives much better writing, sigh.
Dear reader,
Greetings, again, from another Vermont Studio Center Thursday! I’ll get right to today’s writing topic on learning how to critically examine my work and my process, which includes being receptive to feedback. For those who decided to click “open” in the middle of my newsletter series on writing, I'm sorry and never fear – click here to access to the first piece and binge read from there.
As the old adage goes, feedback is a gift. And like all gifts, feedback can be weird, tasteless, not practical, very thoughtful, unintentionally erotic and/or (in the case of my mother’s gift giving practices) extremely confusing upon receipt only to be an exceptionally helpful months later. On that note, I’m grateful for the cartoon bear patterned fleece blanket that keeps me warm in the winter. You’re the real one, mom.
The TLDR version of this newsletter on feedback 2 reflective questions, which I will answer for myself as a mirrored reflection below. These questions are:
What will help you realize that you’re not hot shit and that feedback/multiple revisions are almost always on the writing menu?
What is your feedback style?
Question 1: What will help you realize that you’re not hot shit and that feedback/multiple revisions are almost always on the writing menu?
Answer 1: It is absolutely rare that a piece of writing I put out in the world is written just once. It does not matter if I publish via informal channels like this newsletter or through a literary magazine – I work the piece multiple times. According to my chart/tracking system, it takes at least 5 revisions for me to “finish” a piece of writing. For several of my better long-form pieces that have been published, won something, or was just well received, the number of revisions increases to an average of 7. Just like many other creators, I live the space of rejection, revision, and the occasional win.
Between drafts, I try to consult with someone other than myself to propel me towards the next, hopefully better draft. I’ve found my quality journey has not been linear and there’s a lot of shit along the way. I’ve had to coach myself to feel “okay” with the precarious shittiness that can come with trying to make something better. That being said, every revision has given me something new to learn and think about even if the writing process looks like this:
Click here for a larger version.
Question 2: What is your feedback style?
Answer 2: I like very direct, borderline harsh feedback that is served to me Asian mom-style. Again, thanks mom – you’re the real one. This answer requires a story, though I promise to not psychoanalyze the complex dynamic I have with my mother.
The origins of my preferred feedback style started during my sophomore year of college. I took a journalism class that was taught by an early managing editor of CNN, one of the unintentional founding fathers of what has become the 24-hour toxic sludge news cycle. At the time, I thought I wanted to be a long-form features journalist a la Rolling Stone and Vanity Fair. I mean, who didn’t?
For my final long-form project, I submitted an essay draft that I thought was not only pretty good, but a provocative piece about the oppression of introverted people in our society. I am not kidding, I wrote a shitty and literal we live in a society piece. Up until this class, I had never taken a college-level class exclusively on writing nor had I been challenged to see my so-called love and craft in a critical manner. I was expecting high school style feedback that validated my instincts.
Instead of an expected and unjustified ego-stroke, I got a brilliant takedown that rocked me and changed the way I saw feedback, the way I wrote, and my “one-and-done” writing approach. I have pasted the e-mail below, in full, because I think it is so good:
talk about hiding behind great writing. I am not sure where you are going with this. if this piece is about bucking peer pressure and being yourself that might be one thing, but please - jung - spare me. may I point out a) he is dead and b) he never went to georgetown (not sure what that has to do with it but I needed a b)
where is the journalism in this and more important why do i care. and your outline offers no hints of actually talking to people and giving some funky twist on the topic.
I just get the feeling you are dying to write about the bonds put on people - peer pressure, conformity, parental expectations - all that shit you are dealing with.
If that is what you want to write about - do it. If it is something else - find it. This is not it. AND YOU KNOW IT.
You are too smart to con yourself and I am too old to buy it.
Call if you want to scream
The sass! The shade! The direct “this is stupid” without any veneer of diplomacy! And the sheer confidence of a journalism professor writing an e-mail where he capitalizes nothing and has a series of run-on sentences because he knew he was right. My 36-year-old self loves reading this e-mail, which I archived in my gmail as a forever reference and ego-check.
That said, I was 19 when I received this thorough and critical feedback. I went through all the emotions that an untested 19-year-old would. I was pissed, I was offended, I felt misunderstood. I proceeded to forward this e-mail to several of my friends who became incensed on my behalf.
Then I re-read the piece and realized he was right. I didn’t know what the hell I was writing and what I wanted to say. As is turns out, he also wasn’t an asshole, just British and quite the opposite – brilliant, supportive, and impatient with my tendency to work the hell out of my prose until it became flowery and meaningless. I ended up aligning with the feedback. I spent nights hate-writing to prove that I could be a good journalist. In the end, the piece ended up winning an undergraduate writing award – my first ever juried writing honor that I cherish more than anything else. Even better, Amos Gelb won me over as a person, professor, and feedback auteur.
Since this infamous e-mail, I have developed a specific style of desiring feedback – the sassier, the meaner, the more challenging…the better. I tell every support system that I prefer the Amos Gelb or Asian mother approach.
At this point, you may be thinking – is this healthy, Jen? Aren’t you just a masochist, playing out your mother-daughter dynamic with your professional writing relationships? Are you okay? Aren’t you another victim in caught harsh wheels of capitalistic and corporate asshole-y feedback? Yeah, sure. Some day I may feel the weight layered harsh feedback. The difference has been that I often consult with people who I trust and whose intentions for my wellbeing as a writer are clear. That makes the difference. And what works for me, may not work for you!
My last thought for this newsletter is that feedback can often feel conflicting – people’s preferences collide and the swirl of opinions can feel confusing or contradictory. The top guidance I have received in navigating this is:
Have a strong locus of control and accept the feedback that drives you in the artistic direction you want to go – don’t acquiesce to everything.
Write for your friends (including yourself), not your foes. Know the difference.
Know what “enough” feels like when writing and assess when you have had “enough’ feedback and and a draft that feels “done enough.”
You know that a piece is “done” when you are intellectually ready to move on and explore other ideas in other pieces.
The next edition of the newsletter will arrive on a post-Vermont Thursday. I have one week of writing residency to go and I’m looking to delve into some deep thinking and long-form work. See you a few Thursdays from now for the penultimate topic -- celebrating the small wins, but always have a bigger (realistic) vision in mind.
Be well – East Coast friends, buy an air filter and know you will see a blue sky again soon,
JTVN