A question was recently posed by a writer who views her work as being like cooking. With so many cooks out there, how do you know when to stop taking advice before your soup gets spoiled? How do you listen to them, but still keep your recipe your own?
One chef says “There’s too much salt.”
Another, “Never use salt.”
A third, “You need carrots. And more chicken.”
And so on and so forth until you’re staring into your pot wondering how you grew up loving this soup.
Once critiques roll in, it’s not uncommon for the writer to wonder the same.
"Too many adjectives. Never use adverbs. Add some emotions. Beef up your descriptions."
There are a few common answers (in bold, provided by indie writers) that we’ll discuss and provide the cons for (because the pros are mostly obvious). Many writers use a combination.
I’d ask: What does their soup taste like? and if I don’t like it then I’m not going to trust them with mine.
The premise is not a bad idea, but this generally only works if you have access to their writing and if you believe that someone can’t be a good editor and a bad writer. If you see someone with a shoddy work it’s understandable not to want to trust them any more than the sink repair man driving his unmarked van with the bumper duct-taped on.
The risks of this answer are as follows:
the writer might not even be writing the same kind of story as you, they might be better at giving advice than writing (we can’t all be Neil Gaiman), and eliminating their critique based on your opinions of their writing leaves a lot of room open for pride.
Pride does not help you write a better story. It is the freezer of storytelling, preserving what you have. It has its uses, but sometimes you’ve just gotta let the cheese age.
I’d consider my opinions on the ingredients. Do I really want to add more pepper?
Again, not a bad idea. You should have a clear direction for where the story is headed. This is a basic expectation of almost any writer. If you don’t know what your own opinions are, you may need to spend a few days pondering the story.
There’s a big risk to this response, perhaps the biggest of all. This area is where most parental pride comes into play. This is your baby and you’ve been proud of it since giving birth to the idea and you can be just so in love with it that one person’s opinions just don’t matter. If you’re considering your opinions, there is a very real chance that you’ll dismiss the critique because your ego got in the way.
I gather all the chefs in one room and pay the most attention to what they all agree on. If only one thinks the carrots are too raw, I don’t care as much as if they all said that.
You guessed it. Not bad. You’ve heard that saying, “majority rules.” and the majority is certainly something to listen to in writing. If everyone is saying your protagonist’s compliment to his wife sounds rude and not romantic and they don’t get why she isn’t slapping him, yeah, you should probably take a hard look at what’s happening there.
There are a few risks here. The first only applies if others critiquing can view the crits that came before theirs. It’s not uncommon for one person to say something, and then someone else hears that and says “You know what? I didn’t notice it but now that you mention it, I agree” and then it snowballs from there. Critiques tend to influence each other. The problem: there’s no real telling if this happened beccause the first guy noticed it or because everyone on their own did, but if everyone is agreeing, you should probably revisit the situation anyway.
The other risk is that every critique comes from a different person with different skills and experience. They are all putting different amounts of effort into your writing, too! It might be true that only Bob thought a character contradicted herself, but it might also be true that Bob was the only one who cared enough to point that out!
Pride comes back into play here, too. Its easy to console oneself by saying that only Bob complained and no one else did, so it’s fine the way it is.
Eek! There’s ups and downs in all of those options! What’s a poor writer to do? At least show me some examples where people actually did these things.
If you want examples of these struggles, just check out competition shows like Project Runway, Master Chef, and Face Off (among others).Contestants are often given advice from industry professionals or those well-known in the field. Some people go with their gut and it pays off (they take the big “risk”); others do the same and wind up getting eliminated.
So who is successful and how do they keep their soup from being spoiled?
There is something that those risk-takers have in common and it’s not always easy to do. There’s an underlying problem in all these examples and if you can acknowledge it, you’re well on your way!
For some people, it is harder to understand feedback than it is to hear it. This is where prides sneaks in and often where folks become resist to change instead of open to it. The person who understands where the feedback is coming from and why it’s being offered is almost always the one better able to rationalize whether or not to use it and how.
Think of it like chess. You might know the names of all the pieces and the kind of moves they can make, and then someone comes along and tells you to sacrifice your queen. That’s where understanding comes into play.
That’s always my wish in editing/betaing/critiquing. A good writer does not have to take every piece of advice offered, but if they understand the reasoning behind the advice, they probably know what they’re doing and have developed that gut instinct in full.