Art is subjective, and it’s also intensely personal. Intellectually we all understand these things, and that criticism and notes are a necessary part of improving your craft, but emotionally it can be tough to stop ourselves from arguing against every possible suggestion. I feel you, defensive dudes. I am you. If you called me argumentative in front of my mother, she’d ask if you were really talking about her daughter, because “argumentative” is putting it way too lightly.

Feel like you’re not getting much/enough out of feedback sessions with other writers? Let’s talk about it.

Don’t Pre-Bias Anyone

It’s important not to be so hyper-focused (especially in earlier drafts) on what you want feedback on that you signal what elements in your project you aren’t as confident in, biasing your audience to solely focus on that. When you simply present your work as-is, it makes it possible for note-givers to take in the work free of expectation. Then, when they do or don’t bring something up, you’ll either be validated in your concerns or pleasantly surprised it isn’t as big of a deal as you worried.

It’s a fine line, because I agree with Kelly that you should have some semblance of guidance to give your readers, so I try to align how specific I am with instructions depending on draft phase and the person giving notes.

With a note-giver I’ve worked with before and an early draft, I’ll establish the themes/elements of the project I’m most excited and challenged by without offering specific details, page numbers, etc. That way, they know where my head’s at and can meet me there, giving us an aligned mission statement.

With a newer note-giver and early draft, I’ll keep it even more vague, since I don’t know their taste or perspective yet and want to learn it without biasing them.

Read Everything, Then Take a Walk

I get intense anxiety when I get an email of notes, both from the general fear of the unknown (did they like it??) and from the more specific fear of if this will be the email to put the final nail into my writing career’s coffin. Then I’ll read a note or two, see red if I disagree with even an ounce of it, and seethe before finishing consuming the advice days later, strung out and emotionally exhausted.

In an attempt to be less Like That, I’ve found it can be helpful to suck it up, read the entire message of notes, and then log off and take a walk. No podcasts, music, or mobile games—just walk. Let the notes, and all the feelings they bring to the surface, sink in. Get mad, get sad, spiral into existential dread, then take a deep breath and remember that we asked for these notes, we want our writing to improve, and the person who graciously took time out of their day for us is just trying to help.

It doesn’t completely cure the defensiveness, but it helps.

Shut Up

When you’re getting notes in person or on the phone, you can’t really take a beat for a walk and re-centering, so I’ve found the next best thing is to, simply, shut it. When you’re getting feedback from more than one person, you’ll get far more out of the session (and be far less combative with very nice people taking time out of their day to do this with you) by listening more than you talk.

Really, this comes down to a single consideration- how do you want to spend your time… arguing with your feedback givers, or hearing what they have to say?

You can answer questions, sparingly, but it’s far more valuable that you know how people answer their own questions without your input, since you won’t always be in the room when audiences experience your work. The insights of how an audience interprets things that aren’t clear to them are an invaluable part of this process- there’s no right or wrong, there’s just an honest reaction, and then it’s up to you to figure out how to either course-correct that reaction or lean in.

Caveat- just because you stay quiet doesn’t mean your truth doesn’t matter, or that you should put up with being marginalized by writers without your lived experience crapping all over your hard work. But part of listening is deciding if this is even the right feedback group for you in the first place, and also, it’ll tell you who is and isn’t your true audience. My point here is not that you should shut up and let other people tell you what’s what, but rather, that by inserting yourself too frequently, you’re losing the opportunity to hear how people honestly reacted to your work and what misconceptions they were left with that you’ll want to shore up in the next draft they may not even realize they’re incorrect about.

Look Deeper

No matter how practiced or well-meaning, there comes a moment in every feedback interaction where the person giving notes makes a suggestion or pitch to improve the work. This is where most defensiveness stems from, because the easy reaction is to argue about why that suggestion doesn’t work or make sense. A-ha! You think. Finally, the truth comes out—they don’t understand me or my vision and thus it’s already perfect as-is!

I’m sorry to break this to you, but their suggestion doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s a great idea, maybe it’s a terrible idea, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. They aren’t rewriting this story—you are. So, if you disagree with the suggestion, the disagreement is not the point. Instead of arguing about a suggestion made, your job is to try to understand the root of the suggestion so you can solve the underlying problem in your own way.

Example:

Suggestion: You should make the talking iguana a talking owl, actually.
Defensiveness impulse: They can’t be an owl! There’s already a talking owl character in the third act, and I don’t want to undermine that reveal. You fool. You worm.

CURIOSITY DRIVEN response: That’s really interesting. What’s not working about this character being a talking iguana for you? And how/why would an owl fix that problem for you?

The defensiveness impulse is correct, but again, that’s not the point. Something isn’t translating, and you can’t fix the problem by convincing them their suggestion is wrong, only by understanding the core of why they felt the suggestion was necessary in the first place.

Of course, sometimes people just want an entirely different book. That’s a failing of the feedback-giver (more on that here), and learning to sort through feedback that’s valid for what you’re trying to do and valid for what they’re trying to read is the work of time and experience. My best advice is to get broader feedback before making a change that feels fundamental in an uncomfortable way, and use those extra data points to make your ultimate decision.

Remember Why You’re Here

At the end of the day, the goal of receiving feedback should not be validation, even if it’s what we all secretly want. Don’t fish for compliments, as that’s not a productive use of anyone’s time. Be genuinely interested in and open to how to improve your work so it communicates your vision as clearly as possible to the greatest number of people, and remember: we do this because stories matter to us.

So, ask for what you need without biasing people, take some time before responding if you can, otherwise listen closely and look deeper than the surface level suggestions. Your defensiveness is only hurting your relationships with other artists and the work you care so much about.

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