Alex asks:
Any thoughts on effectively engaging with people who are providing a writer feedback on their writing samples? Back in the day when I hoped to be a writer, I always struggled to make people understand that I wasn't trying to refute their feedback, but that I was trying to get some good back-and-forth going to help me better understand how something came off compared with what I intended, and why. It wasn't my intention to defend the script, but it somehow always seemed to come off as defensive. (I guess I could have been specific with people about my intentions, but I didn't really even become that conscious of it until long after I'd stopped writing.)
I can’t speak for your encounters since I wasn’t there and don’t know you, but yes, often times (MOST times) engaging the critic comes off defensive because it is.
Are your questions – “Okay, what do you mean by that?” or “What bothered you about that?”
Or, are your questions -- “He’s her husband. Shouldn’t he pissed when she comes home late?” or “I explain that in the first scene. You didn’t get that?”
Whenever a writer answers a critique with “Yeah, but…” he’s being defensive.
As a writer, when I’m getting feedback the first thing I need to determine is how obligated am I to do these notes? If they’re network notes on a pilot there’s more of an expectation that these notes be carried out. And if you feel they will severely damage your pilot then you very well may want to dig in your heels. You’re fighting for the integrity of the project.
But if you’ve got a spec screenplay or stage play and you’re getting notes from colleagues or friends, you are under no obligation to carry out these notes. So why get defensive?
I’ve been to play readings where there’s a talkback after and the writer receives feedback. I’m amazed at how defensive and angry the playwright sometimes get. Look, a lot of the notes are idiotic. But you don’t have to DO them. So why get worked up? Nod, smile, say thank you. And some of the notes might be excellent and you come away with valuable input.
Another thing to consider about notes, and I saw this a lot with network and studio notes: The note itself may be bad but maybe there’s something underneath it that is worth paying attention to. Their “fix” is wrong, but obviously something bothered them. It’s often worth the time and effort to try to figure that out.
In that case you might ask some questions. “What bothered you?” “When did you start to feel that?” “Were you okay with this?” The back and forth should not be an argument, it should be you asking questions and he answering them. And presented in a tone that says you are genuinely interested in his answer. Not patronizing or begrudgingly.
I find that when writers become defensive eventually people stop giving feedback. Yes, that’s what the writers want but they’re then defeating the purpose of the exercise.
There is one school of thought that says for talkbacks writers should prepare questions beforehand and just listen to the answers. That doesn’t work for me because many of the questions I have when they’re reading my script are things I’ve noticed during the reading itself. A section didn’t seem to work for me – did it work for others? Hearing it aloud, was the boyfriend too whiney? They’re things I wouldn’t necessarily know beforehand.
At this point I should say a word about getting notes from a showrunner. If you’re on staff and the showrunner gives you notes, just DO them and do them without resistance. A quick way to get fired or not picked up for the next season is to be defensive during notes. You’re not going to win. The script is going be done his way whether you make the changes or he does them later, and all you do is piss him off. You think the showrunner is an idiot? Fine. Pay your dues and in a few years you can become showrunner and your staff will think you’re an idiot.
In conclusion, the best thing a writer can do is get feedback from people he trusts. Whenever I write a play I always give the first draft to three or four people I respect and welcome their comments. I don’t do every note, but generally my script comes way up on the second draft because of their suggestions. And I never argue. Hey, they’re doing ME a big favor.
I’m not Mozart. I miss things. I am not as clear as I could be on certain points. I took a chance on something and it didn’t work. I tried to cover up a plot hole with a band-aid and got busted. I over-wrote a scene. I under-wrote a scene.
Yes, it’s frustrating when you have to go back in and fix something, or find a new story element, or (in the case of one of my plays) conceive and write an entire new second act. But that’s just part of the process. And the professional writer accepts that. That’s why there are second drafts. That’s why there is alcohol.
13 comments :
Is that Denise Richards?
Why?
Because it's natural for creatives to be married to their creations.
I'm told first-year architecture takes pains to beat that habit out of you; I know it's something I fight with doing graphic design for clients, one on one: you do things a certain way, not only because you think it looks best, but because you've learned that it's most effective.
And then the damn fool client wants to change it gratuitously, without the first understanding of why it's like that.
Learning how to phrase your responses so they sound helpful and not whiny takes time, and if the client really badly wants to do something that will be totally counterproductive, you have a choice to make.
The professional writing arena probably has slightly different constraints -- if you're taking notes from another *writer*, you can at least hope they understand these things from a professional standpoint (as opposed to a network suit, say), but even so...
I think the best step for a beginner is to get into a class or workshop where you are not just learning composition but how to read and respond to the work of others at your current skill level, hopefully with someone moderating who knows how to keep the discussion productive. If you can benefit from this sort of interaction, you'll be able later to discern which responses are helpful and which aren't.
I've worked with people way before the point they needed to listen to showrunners, and their attitude made it clear that they were never going to get there. You have to be able to listen. When I took on a beginner, I would always carefully explain I was there to help them prepare their work for submission. They'd swear up and down that they understood what I told them, but would fight me the moment I began suggesting changes. They didn't want to rewrite but be told they were already operating at a professional capacity. Their fantasy was that I'd tell them their work was perfect and would contact my studio friends to fast-track their script into production. I remember one time trying to explain to a woman why her script was incoherent, while she wanted to spend the time accusing me of misrepresenting myself as someone in the film business when I didn't even have Jerry Bruckheimer's home phone number.
If someone with experience is giving you time to access your work, respect that and (again) LISTEN. You need to learn how to learn. I would generally send the writer notes and exchange emails before a meeting, so that the time we had face-to-face could be spent setting goals and identifying problem areas to fix. Instead, nine times out of ten I would have to listen to stories about their unhappy childhood, why I needed to agree that Nicole Kidman should be hated by all mankind, the revenge they planned on people who had failed to properly appreciate them once they became famous, or declarations of the artistic innovations they were going to get around to for the immortality they felt would be theirs. If someone actually showed up prepared for the meeting ready to improve their work, I wound up gushing like a bobby-soxer seeing Frankie at the Paramount, since such effort was so rare. This time is not about you but your work.
The basic rules of composition are actually quite simple, just difficult to execute. These are basic building blocks that every author needs to use as a foundation. I will try to explain these notions exactly twice, in case I wasn't clear the first time. After that, there's not much I can do if someone wants to question me over and over trying to drag some deep existential level of meaning out of the need for exposition and consistent characterization, insisting, "I want to KNOW, I really want to KNOW," like there's some cosmic level beyond 2+2=4.
No, the story ISN'T more interesting if the audience doesn't understand what's going on, the character's AREN'T more engaging if they shift personality with every line. You are not in a competition with the audience but trying to convey material as vividly as possible to them, and you don't "win" or seem smarter if they leave the theater with no idea what you were talking about. And I'm certainly not finding you deeper if you want to argue every step of the way, even if you consider it "a good back-and-forth."
What feedback should be about is helping you find common ground with an audience. It doesn't matter what your intentions were if you're not getting across to them.
One of writer Neil Gaiman's "Ten Rules of Writing" is "Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong."
I felt like I'd become a professional writer when I was working as a newspaper reporter and I could sit down with an editor to rip my story to shreds without getting my feeling hurt. We were just making the story better; it wasn't personal. I think the key there is working with people you respect. Getting ripped to shreds for no reason by an idiot is infuriating.
There's a saying in our writing circle that I think comes from some well-known writer speaking on this subject. "If someone tells you there's something wrong with a line or scene, they're probably right. If they tell you how to fix it, they're probably wrong."
But even a wrong-headed suggestion can get you thinking if you're really listening.
Wasn't it Salieri gave Mozart notes?
Feedback, shmeedback.
If the objection is coming from a show creator or producer, then definitely listen politely and make the corrections along the lines they suggested. If from an actor, explain your intent first, then perhaps tweak it a little to suit their role, but basically stand by what you wrote.
If it's coming from a network twerp, then either ignore it, or frankly, just quit and move on. Maybe you just aren't the right person for the show, and take satisfaction in the fact that it's going to tank anyway after a season.
I was in the room when a colleague got defensive, and the client said " look, we can argue about these changes, or you can just do the changes." We did the changes.
While reading this I thought I remembered something Larry Gelbart wrote, or said,on this topic. I did a search under 'Gelbart rewrite'. The first listings were from your blog postings. But I found something that really knocked me out. Robert Elisberg posted a tribute shortly after Larry passed away. It was another insight which showed that as good a writer as he was,Larry Gelbart was an even better person. (Never found the rewrite quote.)
As someone outside of your profession, I find this post and the comments completely fascinating. Kudos.
Rick asked, "Is that Denise Richards?" I know you run pictures of Natalie Wood, but I was going to ask if it was Natalie Wood as Kelly McGillis.
A lot of that advice carries over to other careers. I'm a geologist in environmental remediation, which means I spend a lot of time writing what we plan to do, how we plan to do it, and what we did. I've rarely had a report go out without major edits and revisions; I've never had one go out without some input.
One thing I'll add: Save each draft. I've found that if I go through a few drafts with a reviewer they'll sometimes get into editing loops--they'll make a change, then make another change, then make another, then change it back to the first change. At that point I politely point out that we're in a loop, and we need to move on. I've had some editors that were simply obnoxious, and were very hostile in how they discussed edits that they thought needed to be made. When I could point out that the edits they were yelling about were THEIR writing, not mine, they calmed down and realized they were behaving unprofessionally. A few stopped working with me, but I don't consider that a huge loss.
"Nod and write it down" is the best advice I ever got for receiving notes. Then when you're rewriting later you don't have to action all of them.
Also, since I joined a writing group I've got much better at both giving and receiving notes. And being better at having to articulate what doesn't work in somebody else's script is helping my own scripts a lot.
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