Tantrum by Chirag Rathod CC BY-SA 2.0
If you’ve ever gotten candid feedback on a script from me or from other professionals, you might have gone through a variety of emotions afterwards…
Disappointment, discouragement, disbelief, annoyance, anger, overwhelment, shock…
Just to name a few.
Well, I’m also a writer who submits my work to others for feedback and have been doing so for 30+ years.
So you might wonder how it is for me, as someone who has had some success and teaches the craft to others.
Do people who read my stuff tend to really like it and only have minor notes, the kind we writers like?
And even if they have “bigger notes,” do I take them in stride, with a great deal of maturity, grace and perspective?
Am I able to quickly decide which notes to listen to and act on, and which ones to ignore?
And then do I set about making the script better right away, glad for the feedback and trusting that everything is working as it should? Knowing that “I can do this” and then doing it?
In a word… no.
As the title of this post hints at so subtly, I don’t take it well when I “get notes.”
Oh, I’ve learned not to be defensive as I get them and not to lash out at the person giving them, telling them they’re wrong, they just don’t get it, “nobody else has said that,” etc.
I’m open and really want to hear from them what the problems are in their mind, the biggest problems, and get to the bottom of what their reactions honestly were. There’s no point otherwise.
Then I thank them because I know what it takes to read someone’s script, come up with notes and deliver them to the writer. It can be a minefield. Especially if you have a personal relationship. Because the writer might hate you for what you said. Which tends to make you want to avoid that outcome and not be brutally honest.
But assuming they are honest, and they know enough about writing for me to really take their opinions to heart – and feel their taste overlaps with mine enough to trust the value of their point-of-view – then I really do want their opinions. I know I don’t have perspective on my own work after a while (unless I put it away for months and come back to it). So I need this.
And I know in theory that their feedback could really be pointing to something worth looking at, that could make the script better.
But when I first hear that they don’t love it like I hoped they’d love it?
Devastation. To put it mildly.
And how often does this happen?
Virtually every time, with every script.
When I send them the material, I’m generally feeling confident in what I’ve created or at least cautiously hopeful. I wouldn’t be sharing it otherwise.
But then nobody’s blown away by it. Most of the time.
Whether it’s Tom Hanks, Steven Spielberg or a network head of drama development giving the notes, or the anonymous readers at a coverage service or contest, or my wife, or a friend who I’ve asked to be honest and not pull punches… it always tends to go not as well as I wanted.
And I’m not okay with it.
And yet somehow I’ve found myself in a position where I perpetrate this same thing on others – on writers all over the world that come to me for guidance and help.
I know I cause them the same kind of misery that is my own bête noire.
I get no joy from causing such reactions. It’s not my revenge for all the notes I’ve gotten. Far from it. I’d much rather love something and praise it, to encourage, to help. And I do ultimately do that. But I know along the way I’m also saying things that lead to a certain amount of pain.
I know this because we all writers are roughly all the same.
Maybe it’s reassuring for you to know that I go through the same process in terms of not getting the desired reactions to my work, and reacting badly at first. So you know it’s “normal.” And can just accept that it’s part of the process. Because it is.
But it’s not easy. It doesn’t really get easier. What has changed over time is my internal ability to recognize what’s going on within me, what I’m thinking and feeling, and why – which is a step toward doing something about that. Psychologically speaking. But that doesn’t mean I’m great at that and can do it right away.
First I seem to have to go through a process of hatred and bitterness. Initially toward the person giving the notes, because how dare they? Clearly they don’t know anything and don’t have my best interests at heart. Then toward the work itself, once I start to realize that maybe they’re right. And then toward myself, for “failing” so miserably.
This can then quickly spiral into hopelessness. (With some shame and humiliation mixed in.) How have I deluded myself into thinking I can do this and do it well? This thing that’s so important to me? Clearly I can’t. Clearly what I’ve chosen as my life’s work is something I’m actually not good at, and never will be. So I suppose my life is a complete failure and will never be anything but that. And there’s definitely no way that I can make this script work that I now see is terrible. And I’ve wasted all the time I spent on it.
Yes, this is what goes through the head of the multiple Emmy Award winner.
The War of Art by Steven Pressfield is a great book for dealing with all of this. He calls these negative inner voices “resistance.” It’s the enemy of all creative work, and it lives within all of us.
The antidote?
A “lunch pail mentality” where one just shows up every day and “does the work,” whatever that is. As Billy Ray once said, most of screenwriting is problem-solving. It’s just about recognizing what the problem is, at any given point in the process – what the need is – and setting about looking for how to solve it.
That sounds so easy. So matter of fact. With no dramatic sense of one’s self-worth on the line. No ego. No bitterness. No railing against the unfairness or despairing at how hard it is to really succeed at this. Just refocusing on how to make something better, to do one’s best work. While trusting that that’s worth doing, and that over time, progress can be made. Satisfying progress.
Easy to say, hard to do. But there is really no other way, that I know of.
Probably your next draft (and mine) will still elicit notes from people. So will the next script. Which might very well mean there’s more work to do. But you can do it. What else are you going to do? Stop? I guess that is an option. Ignore all the notes and decide they just don’t get it? That’s an option too. But for me the best way through this is truly through it.
Which means packing the lunch pail and showing up for work the next day.
Hi Erik,
Great post and I appreciate the chance to chime in…I’ve paid for a critique several times and my biggest problem was they were written without knowing something that occurred earlier in the story. The absolute worst offense was they didn’t even comment on the ENDING, which in my opinion is the most important part of a script. I may put my toe in the water again, but I’ll have to be convinced the critiques are worth it.
Thanks and I hope all is well with a former Buckeye…
Bob
Thanks Bob!
It’s difficult to deal with meanness and downright insults, about what a writer feels is decent work. But I believe it’s not as corrosive if one believes in themselves as a writer. If one believes they can go back and fix legitimate comments. What I find amazing, is for a writer to shoot you down horrifically, and then bandage the wound, with how you have a flair for writing; then ask if they can friend you. (This happened in a course I was taking. It blew me away. lol.) Since I am a lifelong writer, I insulate myself by believing experience is the best teacher. So, I never let acidity get to me; Most of my critiques are actually not bad,; so, an occasional evil one averages out the percentages. Which is okay, especially if it’s aimed at the writing, and not the writer, which can and does happen. One just has to know the difference…
That’s especially tough if someone is actually insulting or being mean – it would make me never go back to them again if I could avoid it. At the same time, what feels like meanness and insults in my experience sometimes wasn’t meant that way and if I can find something valuable within what someone said that struck me as overly mean and not constructive at the time, there’s a way for me to turn the lemon into lemonade…
Erik, great post – thanks for sharing! You’ve described pretty much bulls-eye my ordeal after receiving feedback/notes. What I’ve learned over time is to NOT respond on the spot or even the same day but let the gut-wrenching emotions subside and read it again a few days later when I’m open to objectivity again.
I’ve also come to realize that the emotional odyssey doesn’t let me absorb the notes to their full extent until I read them again for the 5th or 10th time some weeks – or even months! – later.
Absolutely, totally agree Thilo! Thanks for the comment and glad it resonated.
My career in writing began at ad agencies. Talk about not pulling any punches. Clients pay top dollar for an agency’s work – and they are brutal in their criticism. These experiences prepared me for feedback from the editors of my novels. You are absolutely right, Erik. Ya gotta bring the lunch pail to survive and thrive.
Thanks so much Raul! I guess you’re “lucky” in that sense. I was not at all prepared the first time someone critiqued my work (in college) and never quite had that kind of ongoing boot camp you had…
Erik, thank you so much! Now I will be less apprehensive to sign up for your feedback, feel less ashamed during and afterwords, etc. etc. Also, please know that I laughed out loud many times while reading your post! I’m relieved to know we are birds of a feather. Well done.
P.S. Slava Ukraini
Glad I induced some laughter! And that you found it helpful… Feeling ashamed when people point out things that you decide are correct is a real stumbling block… I do that too!
You provide valuable perspective with this post, Erik. When giving notes on someone’s work, often I tell them to read it now, read it in a week, read it in a month, read it in a year, read it after they no longer have ongoing interaction with me – believe me, it will take on a different meaning each time. I apply the same philosophy to notes I’ve gotten from others. There’s an obvious emotional attachment to where your story is, so sometimes it takes a while to assimilate and possibly incorporate changes that others have suggested. I also believe that unless something speaks to you, you should not start reworking the story based on every suggestion. Again, nice post.
I totally agree! Putting your own work aside and putting the notes aside and rereading both later down the line when you’re no longer tied to it is a great practice. I talked about this some here: https://www.flyingwrestler.com/2018/04/write-2-scripts-a-year/
Beautifully expressed. Thank your for being so open with your feelings. You make me feel normal.
Glad I could help, Ellen! 🙂
Erik– I appreciate this post. I have not succeeded, but I go through that set of emotions, wondering why I plead with folks to read my treasures only to be shoved in the ditch when they take the trouble to offer notes. All you can do is thank them and march on. There just isn’t another road I want to travel. It’s rough, uphill all the way with no foreseeable end, but I’m not alone. Thanks.
It’s true – you’re very much not alone! Thanks for the comment Marv.
Man, this is soooooooo fascinating/encouraging to hear that feedback/coverage reaction for other screenwriters (especially at your level) is not an isolated occurence of righteous indignation and self-immolation
as well. I know all you can do is try to find writer buddies who can be brutally honest without threatening the friendship. That’s hard to find.
Yes it is and I’m glad the post was encouraging! Thanks Dan.