Reading the Tea Leaves of Critique

How to Draw Meaning from Murky Feedback

Jael McHenry

Critique is one of the best and worst parts of the writing process. Best because the right feedback from the right person at the right time can improve your book in ways you never would have figured out yourself. Worst because hearing criticism—right or wrong—can be painful and unpleasant, not to mention demoralizing.

But whether it’s good or bad, critique is necessary. A story produced completely in isolation is unlikely to be as strong as one that benefits from feedback.

Still, critique can be confusing. What are your readers really saying? What are you supposed to do about it? What if your four readers have four different opinions about the best way to fix an issue? These questions and more bubble in your brain during and after critique sessions. So let’s start at the beginning and lay down some helpful tips for digesting someone else’s words and deciding what that means for the words you’ve written.

STOP. BREATHE. WAIT.

No matter how brilliant an insight might seem, jumping in to revise your draft immediately isn’t the best idea. Even advice that seems like a stroke of genius at first needs to be thought through. This goes double if the criticism is more intense or wide-ranging than you expected, as in these cases:

• “This first-person past-tense book would be way better if it were in third-person present tense.”
• “The best friend is more interesting to me than your narrator. Have you thought about writing this with him as the main character instead?”
• “Your ending is unclear. Just stop the story on page 300—that’s a much better ending.”

Any time you receive critique like this, the first thing you should do is … nothing. Don’t jump into changes like these without careful consideration. Sleep on it, at a minimum. After that, you can open up your thinking and make some decisions about where to go from there.

WORK FROM YOUR CORE

Critiques aren’t commandments. Just because a reader weighs in with an opinion on something, that doesn’t mean he’s right or that you need to change the story to address his criticism. The story is yours. No matter what you do or don’t do, it’s your name on the book, and that’s absolutely the way it should be.

Frankly, I struggle with this part of critique. Even after years and years of sifting through and reacting to reader advice, it isn’t always immediately clear to me whether incorporating someone’s concerns will make my book better or just different. You can hone the skill of discernment with practice, but each critique is different. Give the comments you receive a gut check every single time, whether large or small.

Comments from other writers have a tendency to come in a little off-center from what you truly need: More often than not, these writers offer criticism based on the book that they would have written. More action? Fewer characters? Shorter sentences? These aren’t necessarily universal principles of “better” writing. But if you have a beta reader who loves action and you’d rather keep your scenes realistic and character driven, make sure you’re not changing things just to accommodate her tastes.

The story is yours. Keep it that way.

CHOOSE YOUR SOLUTIONS

Often critique takes the form of problem identification. Agents, editors, beta readers, and others might make observations like these:

• “I felt like this section moved too slowly.”
• “Too many characters?”
• “I couldn’t tell what actually happened at the end of this scene—is she dead or not?”

Other types of comments focus on solutions:

• “This chapter is boring—delete it.”
• “I was confused by this scene. Add a few lines of narration to explain it.”
• “I didn’t buy that she would punch him, so maybe she should slap him.”

If your readers offer solutions, walk it back to the problem they’re trying to help you solve. There are a dozen different ways to fix a “boring” chapter. You might delete whole paragraphs. You might move some action from a later chapter to an earlier one. You might delete subplots, consolidate characters, sharpen dialogue, or add more vivid description. But you don’t ever have to take a specific action suggested in critique in order to make your work better, even if the issue is totally valid. Problems have many solutions. Find the one that works best for you.

INTERROGATE YOUR DEFENSE

I’ve cautioned several times against blindly making changes to accommodate critiques. But make sure, also, that you’re looking at the other side of it: Give every comment a fair shake. Don’t dismiss things too quickly.

The point of critique, after all, is to help make your work better—not to be mean, not to castigate you, and not to make the critiquer feel superior. Most readers offer critique in the spirit of goodwill. Producing a quality critique is time-consuming, so don’t assume that your readers are listing all sorts of issues with your story for their own amusement. They want to help you. If you’re tempted to dismiss a comment immediately, take a step back and ask yourself whether there’s some merit to what they’re staying.

Some bad defenses include:

• “But that’s how it really happened!”
• “But it would take too much time to make that change!”
• “But you’re reading it wrong!”

While each person’s opinion is theirs alone, you can learn a lot from critique, so listen to what your early readers are saying—because if they’re saying it, then there’s a good chance your final readers will think the same thing.

You have a chance to make the book better and better until the point when it’s published. Why not take advantage of it?