How to apply feedback efficiently and effectively to your next draft—with minimum drama.
You've just received notes from a trusted reader. Some suggestions make sense, others don't—and still others smart as though you've been slapped in the face. What now?
How to Receive Notes
If your readers have workshop experience—both as readers and writers—and they know what they're doing, their notes will serve you well. But don't toss notes in the circular file just because your reader is a novice and the feedback rubs you the wrong way. Why? Because while the content of the suggestions (or the way they're articulated) may miss the mark, general impressions are hardly ever wrong. If a reader is confused about a detail, odds are the passage needs clarifying. If a reader was bored with your story, it very well may need an injection of tension. If a reader's notes doesn't resonate, you don't have to receive them by the letter...but try to understand the spirit with which they were written.
If a reader's notes don't resonate, you don't have to receive them by the letter...but try to understand the spirit with which they were written.
Look at them, comprehend them deeply, then put them away. You can’t puzzle together prose like you might a screenplay or a Rubik's cube. And if the reader gushed over your work, use the accolades to push you through the process, but focus on the criticism that rings true in order to improve the writing and embark on your next draft.
Re-inhabiting the Story
Rather than treat the process like a puzzle or a mechanical task, re-inhabit your story as you would a favorite room or hiding place. It's not easy—but if this re-inhabiting process is done with commitment and heart, it will birth grabby storylines, vibrant settings, and authentic characters who jump off the page. Many expository questions and workshop "asks" fade away in the presence of precise language and authentic characters. Try not to piece-meal the notes and simply insert corrections into the text; notes need to be received, comprehended, then put away in order to operate organically in the world of your story. And it goes without saying that you'll only listen to those more prescriptive suggestions that feel right for your story, if you heed any of them at all.
Try not to piece-meal the notes and simply insert them into the text; they need to be received, comprehended, then put away in order to operate organically in the
world of your story.
Understanding Reader Impressions
Sometimes a suggestion doesn't ring true, but it's still important to know why it was made in the first place. Was an expository piece missing? Did the narrative feel rushed? Were there too many "notes-to-self" and not enough authentic world-building through the lens of our protagonist? Even if you disagree with a note, it's a good idea to appreciate the reader's perspective—not necessarily to inform a specific edit, but to get a general sense of what worked and what didn't. Now you can clarify your intent where it didn't show through, and cutback/rework passages that caused unintended interpretations.
"Realism" in a Fictitious World
Readers often complain that scenic or expository passages don't feel "realistic." Realism happens only in the world of the story; in fiction, there is no such thing as an objective reality. For example, a reader shouldn't ask a writer of science fiction to eliminate a factory on the moon because no such thing exists in the so-called real world. An authentic story world is not created by the selection of the "right" events or details, but the way in which those events or details are provided. Also of note: When a reader asks for more detail to better understand a world, she doesn't necessarily mean she needs pages and pages of additional words. Sometimes a writer can shore up the "realism" and "believability" of his story-world with just a few precise details written through the appropriate narrative lens.
Sometimes a writer can shore up the "realism" and "believability" of his story-world with just a few precise details written through the appropriate narrative lens.
Say our lunar factory worker is depressed about living and working on the moon, but the world in its first-draft iteration feels flat and unreal. Maybe all the story needs to bring the conceit to life is a few specific details about the character's factory job (he collects moon pies off an assembly line from 8am to 4pm) and a sense of how he sees the world through the lens of his depression (cratered landscape, black sky). I'm being a little silly with this example, but you get the picture.
Locate the Energy Center of Your Story
If you feel overwhelmed by loads and loads of suggestions, or if your reader was particularly confused by too much stuff happening in your story, it's especially important to take a step back, assess the situation, and re-locate the center of your story so you can explore what it's really about. Where is the energy coming from? Why did you initially fall in love with the idea? These pages are yours, and you'll need to continue to love and write into them on your own. None of us can, nor should we want to, write those pages for you. Ask yourself a series of questions to clarify your original intent. What makes you excited about the storyline? How does the setting make you feel? If you've been asked to build on a thin character, think about what initially drew you to the character in the first place. What does your protagonist want? What frustrates her, what motivates her? Re-inhabiting your story will take some serious commitment. And remember, the story energy comes from inside you, your pages, and the vibrant world you've created. Find it, get back into it, and write it.
The story energy comes from inside you, your pages,and the vibrant world you've created. Find it, get back into it, and write it.
Revising vs. Editing...and a Scary Suggestion
If you're working on a very early draft, you're not in the editing phase yet. Keep your revisions appropriately big-picture, and don't worry about sentence-level edits yet. One thing I do, even for long pieces, is to put away the first draft and start with a clean slate. I know it's scary. But you'll remember what's important, and forget all the stuff that doesn't matter. Remember when, as a kid, you'd forget what you were going to say, and a grownup would pipe in with,"Oh well...it must not have been important, anyway"? Boy, was that annoying! But it's also kind of a truism.
Get back into it, receive the notes with gratitude, and trust yourself and your story. In time, your rewrite will sing.
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