That can be an intimidating prospect, especially when you're creating or doing something you feel a close personal connection to. When I was writing my short story collection, I found myself much more reluctant to reach out for feedback than I had been for other short stories I had written in the past, and far more defensive in response to feedback that wasn't glowing praise. After all, these were the stories I felt a strong enough bond with to publish! If they weren't actually amazing, what did that say about me, as both a person and writer?
But at this point, I had also been a lot things before seriously trying my hand at writing. A martial artist, a stand up comedian, a college debater, an activist, and a fair number of other things. And what I learned through all these activities was a set of criteria for taking criticism that, while not perfect, have been instrumental for me as someone who likes to write, among other creative endeavors.
What is this criteria? First, a story.
Slick Rick is where I, along with all aspiring storytellers, actually get all of my advice from.
Recently, the 10th Planet Jiujitsu gym I used to train at was having a free rolling session at the beach ("rolling" being the Jiujitsu equivalent of sparring, where people test their skills against each other in a way meant to simulate an actual match). The gym is pretty tight-nit, so I figured I'd go to get some rolls in and catch up with some of the people there I am friends with.
As I rolled, instructors and senior training partners who were watching would periodically give me and/or the person I was rolling with advice. "Keep your posture!" "Don't let him extend your arm!" "Make sure you run your hand through his hair and whisper sweet nothings into his ear!" Y'know, typical Jiujitsu stuff from experienced practitioners who know what they're doing.
Since we were in public, people would occasionally stop and watch us, which is totally cool. But one guy who was watching us from afar decided watching wasn't enough. He yelled "instructions" to people who were rolling- ranging from basic, obvious stuff that they were already doing to stuff that was hilariously wrong- and referring constantly to his fighting prowess. He also referred to himself as "The Great White Shark" in the third person throughout the entire affair, which was more than a little weird.
My Google search for "SoCal bro douchebag" pulled up a picture of someone
with an uncanny resemblance to the Great White Shark.
Initially we laughed it off, but he wouldn't stop talking, so we eventually extended a friendly invitation to roll with us. At first he refused for the usual reasons ("nah, brah, I don't wanna hurt you guys! When I go against someone I just see red and go berserk!"), but after a few more minutes one of our friendliest members coaxed him into it. We let him choose who he wanted to go against, and he of course chose the smallest person there.
When the two began their session, the Great White Shark (who from now on will be referred to as "GWS") started doing what looked like a terrible imitation of the Capoeira ginga. Our 10th Planet guy was unable to take GWS down because of his deadly wrestling prowess- oh wait, scratch that, he was unable to take GWS down because every single time our guy made any move at all, GWS ran away, then stepped in and did a shitty mock uppercut that would have a kickbox cardio instructor shaking their head in embarrassment. Sometimes he followed up his shitty mock uppercut with a comment like "if this were the streets, you'd be laid out right now!" Had I known we would be playing make believe, I would have brought a lot more glitter.
Eventually, our guy just started sitting down so that GWS could work his magic. Turns out, GWS's magic wasn't as deadly as he thought it was. If he was a tier one Blizzard spell, our guy was a double-cast Blizzaga. The Monster energy drinks he definitely has in large quantities at home have a far better chance of harming someone than he does.
After our guy made it pretty clear he would always get the dominant position on GWS, GWS decided he was done rolling. He did this by quickly standing up and boldly declaring "the Great White Shark is done here, I've taught you enough for today" and walking into the distance, ready to spread his gospel of lifted trucks and long black socks with khaki shorts to other beach goers ready to receive his wisdom.
I just cannot stress this enough: he literally referred to himself as "The Great White Shark" in the 3rd person.
Notice there were two sources of criticism people rolling received in that story, not just one. There were GWS's comments, but there was also the feedback those of us rolling got from instructors and senior students. They saw what we were doing and, drawing from their pool of knowledge and experience, told us what changes we should make in what we were doing. Textbook constructive criticism.
There are two types of criticism: helpful and unhelpful criticism. The problem, of course, is that not all criticisms fit neatly into one of these two categories. In the story of 10th Planet Oceanside and the Great White Shark, the two types of feedback fit these two pretty unambiguously, but not all criticism does. In reality, it's more of a spectrum between helpful and unhelpful criticism. How do we begin the tricky process of deciphering where along the spectrum to place the criticism we receive, then?
I've come up with three criteria that, together, I think answer that question about as well as it can be answered: expertise, intent, and subjectivity.
Expertise
Of the three criteria I came up with, this one is the most straight forward. In the story above, GWS had only a vague idea of what he was talking about. He probably watched some UFC at home and thought that made him an expert, the same way watching an NBA match means you could totally take that Lebron James fella in a pickup game if you really wanted to. On the other hand, the instructors and senior students giving me advice are far more proficient at Jiujitsu than I am, and therefore gave feedback with real know-how behind it.
Of course, with certain endeavors, especially artistic ones, "expertise" isn't really something you can go on. Sure, with a skill set where there is a tangible way to measure your progress, and where "progress" itself is something you can easily define, having experts give you feedback is a concept that makes sense. And, even with creative endeavors, there are certain techniques you can learn about from experts that will help your ability to create whatever you want to create.
But when someone reads your writing, or looks at your painting, or listens to your music, how can you determine "expertise" when they tell you how they respond to it? How can you rank someone's thoughts or feelings on something you've put out there?
"What's a polite way to tell him 'yes, I like your statement on the human condition,
but your piece could use more poop jokes'?"
That's where this next criterion comes into play.
Intent
Let's go back to the tale of the Great White Shark. This time, instead of framing it in terms of expertise, let's analyze the intent behind the feedback given by the instructors and senior students vs the "feedback" given by GWS.
The people from the Jiujitsu gym giving me and everyone else their feedback came from a place of them wanting us to get better as students. Partially because they want us to do well when we go to tournaments, partially because they are paid to, and partially because they like us as human beings, they gave us constructive criticism because they genuinely want us to get better as Jiujitsu practitioners.
Now, let's look at GWS. Spouting bullshit to strangers who practice something he clearly had no experience in means there was no honest intention to be helpful in the "advice" that he gave those of us that were rolling. Maybe it was for his ego, maybe it was for attention, maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, it was apparent that he was thinking more about himself than us.
Even outside the realm of talents and creative expression, examining intent can be helpful. Think of all the name calling you see in "debates" on the internet. One person (or group of people) starts getting the upper hand, and the other person (or people) starts going out of their way to call the person with the upper hand hypocritical, self-righteous, condescending, and whatever other negative things they can think of. They're not saying those things because they legitimately want to help you be a better person. They're saying those things because their ego is bruised from losing ground in a discussion, and they will therefore look to call you these things since they can no longer "win" if they keep to the topic at hand.
Now imagine if someone you cared about, and someone who in turn cares about you and wants you to be the best person you can be, came to you and said "hey, I love you, but me and the homies have been talking, and we think you've been a little condescending lately." You'd be hurt, obviously, because you want to view yourself as a good person. But if it was a true friend who said this, someone who truly cares about you and wants you to be the best person you can be, you'd at least consider what they have to says.
"Look, I love you. And I'm demanding more poop jokes because I care."
And that's what it often comes down to. When someone makes these comments, ask yourself: what is their intent? Are they saying these things because they want to help you be better, or are they saying them because they want to tear you down, or make themselves look good, or some other sort of reason that has nothing to do with being constructive?
Yet, even when we've narrowed it down to comments with good intention behind their feedback, that doesn't always mean that feedback will work for you. Which brings me to my last criterion.
Subjectivity
Let's go back to my short story collection for a moment. I was lucky enough to have a group of about a dozen or so friends look at a few of the stories in my collection, as well as even more friends who each looked over one or two of my stories, and give me feedback. There were also two stories that I wrote in a creative writing class I took at UC Irvine (Via Verde and Sun Festival), and I got feedback on those from my teacher and other students from the class in addition to my friends.
Perhaps one of the most surprising things about all the feedback I got was how wildly different people's opinions and comments were, sometimes going in literal opposite directions. I did my best to listen to all of these comments in good faith because I knew these were comments from bright people who had good intentions behind everything, but at the same time, I literally couldn't follow through with all the feedback I had been given, even if I wanted to.
Pictured: the aggregate feedback I sometimes received.
When it was time in class to review that story, I watched someone say the dialogue needed to be redone, then another person in class- someone whom I barely knew- argue in favor of the dialogue as if she were defending a thesis.
Other times, you'll even get suggestions for improvement that go in opposite directions. For instance, when you write a short story, for literally every scene you have to decide whether you want to give a broad summary of events ("it was a long day at work. After work, [...]"), a play by play of the day ("I clocked in at 8:05. I walked to my desk and sat down, ready to start another day. I turned on the computer monitor, [...]"), or somewhere in between ("It was a long day at work. I arrived a few minutes late, and half an hour later I was already waiting anxiously for the day to be over. Then, two hours into my shift, [...]"). There were multiple times where I would have one person tell me a scene would be better if I went more in the direction of a play by play, and others saying I should just sum up the same scene instead.
"You should use less dialogue, but also have the characters talk more,
and have less characters, but also more characters, and.."
So, after you have narrowed down all the feedback you are taking seriously to feedback that comes from an informed source and/or has good intentions behind it, the trick is to then take the constructive criticism you have received and use which works for you. That can, of course, be tricky. Especially because you have to honestly ask yourself: am I not going with certain feedback because I don't think it works, or am I not going with it because I am being too defensive?
Going back to the Sun Festival feedback, I ended up leaving the aforementioned dialogue largely the same. But there was a section of the story I did make a big change to: the opening sequence where I describe his back story. I had kept it vague during my rough draft. Some people thought it worked, and some people thought I should get more specific. At first I wanted to keep the scene the way it is, and I could even come up with justifications for why I should do so (we as humans are great at coming up with justifications and self-rationalizations). But deep down, after reading the feedback from people who thought I should get more specific, I had to admit to myself that their reasons for getting into more detail were too strong to ignore. I ended up adding a lot more to that section, and am glad I did.
Now, of course, putting ego aside and figuring out which helpful criticisms will work for you is a tough process, and can sometimes be an ambiguous one. But, with a set of standards to narrow down which criticisms are and aren't helpful, that decision is at least made a little easier.
