How Do You Handle Toxic Feedback? Cry? Yell? Punch Someone?

I remember being a young girl, perched on a stool in the middle of my kitchen, singing along with the radio, belting out the words of the song with such passion and emotion as my mother cut my hair (she was a hairdresser back in the day and so our haircuts came free—lucky us). 

I was feeling the music all the way down to my soul. I was a singer! I could sing just as well as Crystal Gale, or so my thirteen-year-old self believed. I knew I was that good.

Then my mother, the woman I so admired, so loved, told me, “Angela, I’m so glad you took up an instrument instead of joining the school choir.”

What?! What the heck did she mean by that? Was my own mother telling me I sucked at singing? Really?

I truly believed so. At least that’s the way I took it.

And to this day, I remember that scenario clearly (my mother denies saying any such thing or that the situation even happened at all) and because of it, I have a singing complex. I still love to sing, but I don’t do it nearly as loud, nor do I sing in public places—I whisper-sing when anyone is around.  I’m super self-conscious.

The feedback I received from my own mother had a lasting impact on me that even twenty plus years later, I still feel it.

As much as writers crave feedback—good feedback, constructive feedback—every writer at some point will receive some toxic feedback that will make them want to cry, take a hammer to their laptop, and swear they’ll never, EVER write again. No matter what. You can’t make me.

And to make matters worse, that feedback was usually given by someone we admired greatly and so wanted to impress. To find out we didn’t impress them one bit can be pretty damaging and heartbreaking to our fragile writer’s ego (yes, we’re fragile, we are. We want to be tough, but it still stings—we’re human after all).

Putting ourselves out there by handing over our writing, something we’ve put our heart and soul into can be scary. Then to be told it just wasn’t good enough can really affect how we continue to look at ourselves and our writing paths. Each writer is different and each writer will take that piece of feedback and react to it differently as well. For some, it will be the end all to end all. And for others, they will use it to better themselves in an act to prove that particular feedback provider wrong.

Recently, I read a book titled, Toxic Feedback, HelpingWriters Survive and Thrive by Joni B. Cole, in which she discusses this very thing. If you have read Bird by Bird by Anne Lamont, then you will enjoy Joni B. Cole’s writing style and approach—very personable and humorous.  Because I like to use little post-it notes to mark passages or areas of a book I find useful , my copy of this book now looks like a freaking rainbow, there was so much I found valuable and worth marking. 

At some point in your writing career, someone is going to make you feel like crap. It will happen. It will. Whether it’s early in your writing—be it a teacher, professor, even your own mother, or heaven forbid, your spouse—or later, after you’ve been cultivating your writing for years—rejections from agents, publishers, or you receive a horrible review from a reader who gives you one stinkin’ star out of five—it will happen.

But in her book, Toxic Feedback, Joni goes on about how we should process that information, how to approach it. And more importantly, I feel, she discusses how WE should go about giving feedback to others who ask it from us.  Because like it or not, receiving feedback and giving feedback can be a highly emotional thing if not done correctly. It could actually be more damaging than good.

I love Joni’s definition of feedback, or what she believes the definition should be: “Any response to a writer or his work that helps him write more, write better, and be happier.” 

Wow. Isn’t that great? That’s the kind of feedback I want. Don’t you? 

And that’s the kind of feedback we should be giving, as well.

Now, don’t confuse this with being all fake and saying positive stuff about someone’s writing that is seriously lacking and needs a ton of work—that’s not what I’m saying here or Joni either. That defeats the “write better” portion of the definition above. 

It’s all about the approach. We need to be conscious of how we approach a person’s work, how we encourage them to fix those areas—spelling, character development, plot issues—without making them feel like a loser. Joni gives some great pointers in her book about how to do it correctly. We also need to look at ourselves and understand how we process and react to negative feedback as well—we need to understand the intentions. 

The cold hard truth is that we all need feedback. We do. Without it, we risk setting ourselves up for failure and humiliation. For me, I know I’d much rather have one of my critique buddies tell me I have a piece of broccoli in my teeth (embarrassing and slightly humiliating) than to be standing in front of the world, smiling like an idiot, with broccoli in my teeth, making people uncomfortable or worse yet, causing them to gag.

If you haven’t added Toxic Feedback to your writer’s library, I highly suggest you check it out. Just as important as it is to know where to place a comma, or what things to avoid in writing your first five pages, I think knowing how to give and process feedback ranks right up there with things all writers should know and be aware of.

The sooner we can come to understand negative feedback and how to utilize it to make us better writers, the sooner we will improve not only our writing but other writers writing as well. 

And don’t we all want that? 

Of course we do. 

Do you crave feedback or do you do everything in your power to avoid it? How do you handle Toxic Feedback?

Preserving the raw edge of your writing

Lovely summer morning to all of you!

It's finally July, with hot dogs, lemonade and lots and lots of sunscreen for the Heliophobics like me. Not to mention my favorite hometown event, the Cache Valley Cruise in. Where old cars get glossed up like new and cruise down main street on a balmy Saturday night. But before the main event, cars park at the local fair ground for bragging rights, haggling buyers, and big-time stories of how they got, or almost lost their pride and joy.

I could spend all day there perusing hot muscle cars and their hard working owners, but my camera had another idea. Every so often, between the pristine white Camaro and the Sapphire Studebakers, a unique piece of art catches my lens. I'm not sure why I like it. Maybe because there's a story in there somewhere, or maybe because it shows true to life and time. Maybe because it sticks out like a sore but prideful thumb. Its something that dares to be different in a world of spit and polish. I envy it in a way.

It reminds me of one angelic critique partner of mine that dared to throw her memoir out for the whole world to see. Her voice rang proud and clear in her writing, and true to her young age. I loved it because it was raw and different and brave. Much like the cars at the show, it didn't try to polish into something it wasn't. A rare glimpse into history that, if modified, may have lost part of itself under all that luster.

I envy her too in a way, because she knows the raw edge of her writing and she has the pride to embrace it.

Friends, don't forget your edge when you sit staring at a blank page. Its what makes you unique. I know there are mountains of books published on the writing craft, but if every rule is followed, we'd wind up with cookie-cutter stories. I don't think New York wants that. They still angle for something unique. Much like my camera lens.  

Need a critique partner? Let us help you find one.

For the most part of my writing career (if you could call it that), I'd been on my own. I didn't know other writers. Not a one. I wrote in solitude. I mean, a few friends read what I wrote, but that was about the extent of sharing my work with others. I didn't even know where to find other writers. I was a stay-at-home mom with three little kids--not many writers spent their days at McDonald's or at park playgrounds.

Then one day, I received a community paper in the mail. It offered a variety of classes from yoga to learning Spanish to knitting sweaters. Right in the middle of this newsletter was a writing class--fiction writing with a followup class for critiquing our works in process. This would be a two hour class, once a week for six weeks. So I did a very brave thing and I signed up.

I learned a lot through this class. I learned various grammar rules (errors) I was making. I learned that some days the instructor was impressed with my work and other days he didn't like what I wrote at all. Some days I went home elated and other days I left completely crushed. But the biggest thing I learned was to share my work, to stand up in front of the class, and read my words to the other class members. My knees shook. My hands trembled. My voice cracked. But I did it. As cheesy as this class was, I found myself writing more than I had ever written before--we had weekly assignments along with working on my WIP to share with in the second hour. Slowly, I built my confidence, little by little. 

I also met other writers. Some were at a much higher level of writing than I was, and then there were those who just struggled to write anything at all. We also had an older lady who was there just to be a joker (that's all I could figure). She drove me crazy and demanded way too much attention. For a stay-at-home mom, I loved this class. I needed this class. It helped me to remember how much I loved writing. I loved it, and yet, I hadn't been writing very much at all up to that point (three little kids tend to take up a whole lot of time).

After the six weeks were over, several of us writers wrote down our emails to be able to continue getting together and helping one another. I was SO excited. I couldn't wait to be emailed (one girl wrote down the list and said she'd email everyone else). Well, I never received an email. Did the others get together without me? Did they not like my writing? Maybe they never met. All I know, was that once again I was alone and it sucked.

The following winter, I found out that in my state there was a league of writers who met monthly. There was a chapter in my local area and so once again I got brave and went to the January meeting. I didn't know anyone there and they all looked like they knew each other.The funny thing, this meeting was all about finding a critique group. Once again, I was super excited.

It was at this meeting I met D.S. Actually, we had been in the same fiction writing class the previous spring, but since D.S. was too chicken (just kidding) to take the critique class the second hour, I never really got to know her. Anyway, when this meeting was over, I approached her and another lady who were discussing forming a critique group and asked if I could join. There was a moment in which I wasn't going to do it. I was just going to leave and say nothing.

But I'm so glad I did. That move changed my writing life. D.S. and I have been writing buddies for over a year and a half now. The other lady in our group slowly pulled away because it wasn't working out for her (those things happen).

So how did I meet Kacey? D.S. has a knack for finding other writers, but this story is kind of fun. D.S.'s husband managed a Mexican restaurant where Kacey and her family would come to dine. D.S's husband is a hoot. He's personable and fun loving. He and Kacey started chatting and somehow one thing led to another and he found out Kacey was a writer. Well, his wife was a writer! What were the odds? Amazing. He then gave her D.S's information and she contacted D.S.

D.S then introduced her to me. WA-LA--a critique group.


I can't stress enough how much writers need other writers. We need them. We really do. I wouldn't be where I'm at without theses fantastic people in my life to push me forward. I need that push. I need someone cracking the whip and refusing to accept anything less than my best. These ladies do that.

But, it's hard to get a critique group going. Like me in the beginning, I had no idea where to even go looking. Some of us live in rural areas. Some of us just are a bit afraid to ask someone to start a group. Others think they can do it on their own.

I can tell you right now, you can't do it on your own. You can't. And GREAT critique partners can not be overlooked or undervalued. You need them.

So here's my suggestion, if you are in need a critique partner or need some extra eyes to go over your work, leave a comment to this post saying so. Now, we here at Ready, Aim, Hook Me are super busy. The submissions coming in are in great numbers and we are getting to them as quickly as we can. So we can't possibly add anyone to our critique group. But, depending on the number of comments left, I will put together a page with all the contact information and put people into groups. This could be fun. (If there aren't very many comments, then guess what? You're a group!)

So leave your name, your genre (which may or may not come into play--you can learn from everyone) and your contact info, probably your email. Just do it like this: suzy[at] gmail[dot]com (that way you can avoid spam). If you don't feel comfortable leaving your email, then simply leave a link so that people can get a hold of you.

How does that sound?  So leave your link and I'll contact you with your group info. I will also make a special page you can check at a later time as well (under the Pages tab). Hopefully, this works and you find it helpful.