Don't Fear the Feedback

Many writers, especially new ones, share one fear: feedback.

What is it about sharing our writing—our soul—that makes our hearts pound, stomachs twist, and foreheads sweat like we’ve been pumping iron in the gym for three hours?

Consider these sources of this fear.

Allodoxaphobia:  the fear of criticism.

A year and half ago, I paid to have a piece of my novel professionally critiqued. I had never, ever gotten any real feedback on it. For the moment, it seemed like I was turning in a life or death term paper. His feedback would either validate me as a writer or terminate me. Out of my mind with anxiety, I emailed the critique, begging him to be gentle in his comments. He assured me he would.

At the time, I had a misconception about feedback. I believed that if someone were to mark up my work with suggestions it meant one thing: that I was an awful writer. 

Stomp on my heart and my dreams.

Kakorrhaphiophobia: the fear of failure.

A year later, I met an editor at a conference, and she offered to critique my flash fiction story right there on the spot. I agreed. Since I entered the story into the conference contest, I wanted to see what she thought and guess if it might place.

As she began making bloody blue marks all over my paper, my heart sank. As we discussed it, I realized that her suggestions would improve it greatly. I thanked her, and with my tail between my legs, I took back the page that reflected hours of toil over apparently…not much. Depression swallowed me whole for the rest of the day.

I had gotten an F.

To think I could ever win a contest. Silly writer.

Atelophobia:  the fear of imperfection.

I’ve been diagnosed as a perfectionist. (As if I needed a professional to certify my insanity.)

How that affects me as a writer is that I work incredibly hard. Always rewriting. Always editing. Sometimes I take it to the extreme to avoid mistakes.  So when I produce a piece to be critiqued or edited, I’ve already spent hours upon hours perfecting it.  

For another writer to find flaws in my masterpiece would feel like I had succumbed to the jaws of imperfection and failed. 

When I tell writers not to fear the feedback, I’m speaking from experience. I know what it’s like to fear criticism, failure and imperfection—all at the same time.

But do you know what I’ve learned?

The right constructive criticism from the right person can grow you as a writer as well as affirm your skills. Because I avoided feedback, those fears hindered my growth as a writer for years. I never allowed anyone to affirm my gift so I always wondered if I was good enough to publish.

From that first critique I received, I learned so many things about writing. He also affirmed my talent with some positives. His constructive comments spurred me on to read books on how to improve my craft further. 

The next year when he critiqued the same story I had previously revised, he made sure I knew that I had progressed greatly. Even though he still offered suggestions, I realized those ideas only served to make my story better and stretch my skills further.

And about that story I had edited? That same night, I sat in the audience watching everyone else get awards, regretting I ever submitted that story. Then the speaker from the podium called my name for second place in flash fiction.

What?

Walking to the stage, I learned something else valuable about feedback. That yes, every story has the potential to improve with each revision. However, just because you have some development to do doesn’t mean you aren’t fit to take pen to paper. It simply means you’re not finished just yet .

Can it hurt? Temporarily.

Is it worth it? Absolutely.

This is the writer’s life.

Today, I thrive on feedback because it’s my ticket to writing a bestseller.  How I wish I had pursued it sooner!

If you want to grow and learn, don’t fear the feedback.  Don’t let your fears keep you from blooming.

 

Now I want to hear from you. How do you respond when receiving feedback on your writing? Can you identify with any of these fears? Tell me below.