Reader,

Over the past few weeks, I've offered you some short reflections about receiving feedback.

• I kicked things off with an Aaron Rodgers quote, agreeing that we get to decide whose opinions we care about​
• Next I suggested that we need to get clear on what we're trying to do with our writing before we solicit feedback
• Most recently, I argued that readers' feedback tells us more about them than it does about our work​

You might have noticed a theme throughout these reflections. I don't believe that we can receive feedback well if we lack confidence in ourselves and our writing.

But there's a crucial flip side to this: our reaction to readers' feedback reveals more about us than it does about their feedback.

Have you ever read something from a beta reader that made you downright angry? I sure have.

(This point would be better if I could describe a specific example, but unfortunately I can't recall one. Selective memory FTW!)

When I get feedback that riles me up, my thoughts typically go something like this: How can they say that?!? Did they even read what I wrote? I can't believe they're so obtuse.

Now, it IS possible that my beta reader was obtuse and failed to read my writing closely.

Here, though, that's beside the point. What's most instructive for me is the emotional charge of my response. Why did their feedback trigger me? Why do I feel so heightened?

There are several possibilities:

• Perhaps I was hoping to hear, "That's the best thing I've ever read!"
• Perhaps I care deeply about what this person thinks of me
• Perhaps I think this person needs my story
• Perhaps I need my readers to have a particular takeaway from my story
• Perhaps I'm not confident in what I'm trying to do

Et cetera, et cetera.

You'll notice that none of those possibilities have anything to do with the work itself. They're all about my own emotional needs.

And hey, there's nothing wrong with that. Writers have needs and feelings too. We're not robots. However, it's important that we keep this reality in mind as we receive and weigh feedback.

If I'm not curious about my reactions and what they can teach me about myself, I probably won't know what to do with the other person's feedback. Which is a real shame. Not only am I missing out on greater self-awareness, but I'm failing to serve my writing. There's a good chance that I'm actually getting in my readers' way.

Of course, this is all much easier said than done—something we'll both discover if you send me a critical reply to this email.

But it's work well worth doing.

Indeed, it gets at the heart of why we write in the first place. We're not just trying to proclaim something we already know. We're writing to explore. To explore and learn something about others, about this life, and especially about ourselves.

Keep your stick on the ice.

Frank.