There’s a special kind of dread that comes with finishing a second or third draft. Every rewrite sits in front of you looking like a finished piece. And, to some extent, it is: it’s as finished as you, alone, can make it. Months spent in the belly of the beast have eroded your ability to see your work with fresh eyes. It’s time for an outside perspective; it’s time for a critique. 

If the word “critique” doesn’t ring a bell right away, that’s okay. When I talk about critique, I’m talking about the process of looking over someone’s work and providing feedback for improvement, much like an editor or a writer’s group. It’s usually informal, done with people you trust, and Not Fun. No one likes giving their work to someone for them to poke and prod until the seams begin to unravel. Still, after four years of art school, I dread asking someone for their feedback. Critique blows. 

Critique doesn’t have to be a nightmare, though. Giving and receiving critique are both skills that can be honed to minimize the hurt feelings that so often accompany them. Giving is easier to learn- if you’re a fellow artist, you should have the language needed to articulate your feedback well- but it’s also the most nuanced. Receiving is harder to learn, as it’s an emotional effort as well as an intellectual one. Both require the delicate balancing of our social contract with other humans to be kind and an obligation to tell the truth. Striking that balance takes practice.

Let’s start with Giving. Giving critique is easiest when you know something about the art you’re giving feedback on. If it’s a manuscript, it will help if you’re an avid reader; if it’s a painting, it will help if you love the arts. That said, you don’t have to be an expert to give critique. I’ve given critique on sculptures, paintings, and even music without having all the insider lingo to help. To give any kind of critique all you have to do is ask three questions: 

1. Is what I’m saying based on background knowledge or opinion?
2. Is what I'm saying productive?
3. Is what I'm saying kind? 

Not every critique you’re asked to participate in will be an art form you’re familiar with. Many critique requests come from friends and family members who are into different hobbies or art forms than you. When sitting down to look over their work, it’s important to ask yourself the first question: Is what I want to say based on background knowledge or opinion? If you’re a big fan of fantasy novels and a friend asks you to read his fantasy manuscript, then you will be basing a lot of your notes and critiques on your knowledge of the genre. If it’s a sci-fi manuscript instead, you can still give notes and critique based on your understanding of themes, characters, and plot. All this counts as background knowledge- knowledge that you have based on conscious consumption of similar work. You’ll have the vocabulary and the references in your toolbelt, ready to go. Now say your friend asks you to listen to his new song on SoundCloud and you have no music experience outside of Spotify. Any critique you give will be based on your opinion. These two types of critique are very different and you should be upfront with the person you’re critiquing about which of the two you are providing.

Example:

Knowledge-Based Critique: “This character’s emotions feel too intense for the current state of the stakes within the plot. Perhaps more character or world-building is needed for us to understand why this particular moment is so emotional?”

Opinion-Based Critique: “I’m not a big reader so maybe I missed something, but the character’s emotional breakdown felt really sudden.”

The next question you should ask before sending any critique is one of the most important: Is what I’m saying productive? When I say “productive”, I mean “actionable”. Any feedback you give should be something the artist can investigate or fix. Saying, “I don’t like it,” is not productive. What does the artist do with that? Just throw the whole thing out? Instead of saying, “I don’t like it,” investigate why you don’t like whatever is bugging you. Is it bad dialogue? Flat characters? A plot hole the size of the Milky Way? Once you find what it is, it’s also helpful to offer suggestions on how to fix it or ask questions to help lead the artist towards an interrogation of why they did what they did in the first place. The point of critique is to help an artist make their work better- if you don’t give the artist something actionable to fix, they’re as stuck as they were before. 

Example: 

Productive Feedback: “This character’s dialect is really distracting. Maybe remove and add descriptors for their accent instead?”

Unproductive Feedback: “I don’t like this character’s dialogue.”

You may notice a trend in my examples. Almost all of them are carefully worded and neutral in tone. This is where the last question comes in: Is what I’m saying kind? Obviously, not all feedback can be doused in sparkles and rainbows. No one wants a bunch of happy smiling and flower emojis before being told their work has an issue. Kindness in this context means more along the lines of, “Am I being helpful? Or hurtful?”. Critique, as you’ve gathered, isn’t fun. The artist is allowing you to look into something they poured their heart into; they’re vulnerable. Don’t make fun, don’t make it personal, and don’t make unflattering comparisons. Stick to the truth and be as neutral as possible. Don’t fall into the trap of being overly kind, though- the artist asked for critique and they should be prepared for critique. Don’t blow smoke up someone’s ass just to avoid hurting their feelings. 

Example:

Kind feedback: “I had a hard time keeping track of all the characters through the action sequence. Maybe break it up or cut some characters in this scene to avoid confusion?”

Unkind feedback: “This sucks, haven’t you ever read a spy novel before?”

Too Kind feedback: “So much fun, so good bestie! ( ˘ ³˘)♥”

With all the work that goes into giving critique, receiving it should be a cinch, right? Well, here’s a secret: Receiving critique takes just as much practice as giving it. Receiving, even when the person critiquing is well-versed in it, can be rough. Every issue that gets brought up stings and, if you’re not careful, you can resent the person doing exactly what you asked them to do. Half of learning to receive critique is learning not to take things personally. I bolded that because, seriously, this is the hardest thing to learn. You may feel like your work is your baby, an extension or expression of you or your life experience, but to everyone else? It’s a piece of art that you’ve asked for feedback on. This is especially important to remember when the person you’ve asked for critique isn’t good at giving it: if you receive unkind, unproductive, and opinion-based feedback all at once, it can be hard to keep your emotions in check. The important thing to remember is that this person is trying to help. They cared enough to look your art over, think about it, and get back to you, which in itself is an awesome thing for a friend or family member to do. If they’re sending bad critiques, though, it may be a good idea to rethink sending them work in the future.

The other half of learning to receive critique is learning which critiques are valid and which aren’t. This one can be hard to parse, more so if you have no one around you with the background knowledge of the kind of work you’re doing. There will be times you will have to ask people follow-up questions to understand exactly what didn’t resonate with them. A criticism may swirl in your head for weeks before you realize the person has never read the genre you’re writing in before. You may pull your hair out when someone says, “I don’t like it,” and cannot elaborate. Investigate every critique to the best of your ability and decide which ones are valid and will improve your work. The rest can always be revisited later.

Critiques are hard. Even with all these tips and tricks, someone’s still going to end up crying during their next critique. It happens. Art is personal and art is difficult. Letting critique take your work to the next level can be terrifying but incredibly rewarding in the end. After so many “I don’t like it”s you will find your “I love it”. I promise.