Reader, Earlier this week, it struck me that I've encountered an awful lot of books (and other resources) about how to give feedback. Some of this stems from the environments I've worked in. When I was a manager and team leader, giving feedback was an essential part of my job. My direct reports needed to hear from me on a regular basis to feel connected and confident in their work. It's how we made sure that we were all striving in the same direction, instead of working as lone rangers. But this trend isn't just a corporate thing. Hop on Amazon, and you'll find plenty of books about how to give good writing feedback. Why? Well, consider your own experience. Have you ever received soul-stifling feedback about your writing from a teacher, or an editor, or a family member? (C'mon, be honest.) A lot of us don't know the difference between criticism and constructive criticism when it comes to writing. However, as I mulled this over, it occurred to me that learning how to give feedback isn't enough: more importantly, we need to learn how to receive feedback. One of the reasons that poorly-delivered criticism is so harmful is that many writers don't know what to do with the feedback they receive. Note: I'm not talking about people who refuse to heed sound editing advice. Sure, those folks are out there, but they're not the majority. I'm talking about the writers who are desperate to learn, who want to put their best work out in the world, and who therefore go around collecting feedback the way kindergartners collect rocks in the pockets. Both parties feel that they've come away with something valuable, but they're never quite sure how to distinguish what's a keeper and what should be discarded. Over the next few weeks, I'm going to share some lessons I've learned about how to receive feedback. Almost all of them are things I've learned the hard way. (I have been—and sometimes still act like—that kindergartner.) They're also things that I've experienced with clients, many of whom feel the crippling weight of expectations and long more than anything for the confidence to believe in their writing. What I hope you'll see is that that kind of confidence and belief is attainable. (It'll even make you willing to write "that that" and not edit it out.) Before we explore those lessons, however, I want to start with a lesson from an unlikely source of inspiration—the NFL quarterback Aaron Rodgers: You shouldn't worry about criticism from someone that you would never ask advice from. ... [W]e care so much about what people think of us and what they say about us. Most of the time it is people that we would never ask for advice from. At our core we want to be seen and understood. We also want to be liked. We don't want to be [that] polarizing ... figure who is labeled all these crazy things. Self-limiting beliefs and listening to people whose opinions actually don't matter are the biggest hindrances to reaching your full potential and dreams. (transcribed from 32 Thoughts: The Podcast)
I start with this quote because if you can't embrace this truth, you'll never learn how to receive feedback well. A lot of the things we'll explore in coming weeks will help you discern who is a worthy source of feedback and who is not to be trusted. Because when you understand how to receive feedback, you'll intuitively learn what kind of people you need feedback from. (I won't be offering suggestions because this varies widely from person to person.) But you must be willing—right now, before anyone has read what you've written—to believe that some opinions just don't matter. As always, keep your stick on the ice. Frank. |
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