The art of giving feedback

Have you ever noticed how many people who ask you for feedback on their writing really don't want feedback on their writing?

They thrust it so willingly into your hesitant hands: "Be honest," they say. "Be brutal. I need to know the truth!"

But then you look into their excited face, read the expression in their avid eyes and think: "Like hell! You're not ready for honesty, not to mention brutality; you just want me to tell you it's great."

Giving feedback on a person's work is as much about reading them as about reading their writing. You have to be able to tell what they are prepared to hear from you and you usually can't get that from the words they say when they ask for your feedback.

It's worse when the person is a friend or co-worker, a person with whom you plan to continue to have a relationship, even after your feedback is delivered.

If you see any fear in their eyes, you know they can't handle the truth. If they are totally amped and excited when they hand the manuscript over, you know they simply want you to confirm for them how wonderful their writing is and that the agent they sent it to the day before is just going to love it.

Sure, you can still be honest with them. You can read over their manuscript and send them back forty pages of notes and suggestions. But they are going to be crushed and they likely won't speak to you for a long, long time afterward.

I've done it. I've received that manuscript; I've seen the fear and excitement in the person's face; I've understood that they've already formatted it for submission and had fifty copies made to send out far and wide.

And I've come back to them with a fair but honest critique: the plot makes no sense; the main character is flat and unlikeable; the secondary characters lack depth; and the climactic scene manages both to be confusing and to move at a glacial pace.

Even the spelling and grammar is problematic.

And I've watched the excitement turn to disappointment, the fear turn to anger, and the relationship turn to dust.

These people just want to be told how wonderful their writing is. They want their own excitement to be confirmed. The last thing they want when they ask for an honest critique is an honest critique.

That's why I try to refuse whenever someone asks me to review their work. Or, at the very least, I try to establish exactly what they want from me and what they're prepared to accept.

It's great when they really want to hear the truth. When they are looking for honest but constructive feedback and they have the time and inclination to do something with it. That's fun. That's exciting. That can be an incredibly rewarding process, for both parties.

But, unfortunately, those situations are few and far between. So proceed with caution. Be only as honest as the person can handle.

It's not really lying. It's simply being strategic with the amount of truth you tell.