What to Do When Feedback Gets You Stuck

If you get feedback that grinds you to a halt, there's a problem. But YOU are not the problem—the feedback is.

Recently, a writer came to me with feedback she was struggling to implement. She’d written a draft of her story, but she knew it needed revision. So she’d gotten a manuscript evaluation from another editor. And the feedback she got in that evaluation really threw her off.

When this writer and I talked, she was so confused. She knew what her vision was for her story, and why she’d made the story structure choices she’d made.

But the feedback she’d gotten called some of those foundational structure choices into question. It would be a really big overhaul—a different core conflict and a different genre.

The writer was quick to assure me that she was willing to do that work. She was not afraid of a page one rewrite. She was not afraid of getting tough critique. She wanted honest feedback from experts, and she was determined to do whatever it took to revise her manuscript into a story that works.

And yet, she was stuck. She had started mapping what it would look like to implement the feedback she’d gotten. And she had this nagging feeling that it would mean walking away from something about her story that mattered to her.

So what was she to do?

What do you do when feedback gets you stuck? When it seems to make things worse, not better? When you can’t figure out how to implement it, no matter how hard you try?

In this episode, I’m sharing what to do with feedback when it doesn’t get you traction, but grinds you to a halt.

You’ll hear:

• What the problem ACTUALLY is (hint: YOU are not the problem!)
• Why feedback can be true and unhelpful
• What to do when the feedback just doesn’t work
• How to get feedback that gets you traction again
• And more!

If you have ever gotten feedback that you just can’t make work, this is what I want you to hear.

Links mentioned in the episode:

• Get feedback that gets you traction again: alicesudlow.com/nrs 

Transcript

0:00

Recently a writer came to me with feedback that she was struggling to implement. She'd written a draft of her story, but she knew it needed revision. So she'd gotten a manuscript evaluation from a different editor, and the feedback that she got in that evaluation really threw her off. When this writer and I talked, she was so confused. She knew what her vision was for her story and why she'd made the story structure choices that she'd made, but the feedback that she'd gotten called some of those foundational structure choices into question, it would be a really big overhaul, a different core conflict, and a different genre. The writer was quick to assure me that she was willing to do that work. She was not afraid of a page one rewrite. She was not afraid of getting tough critique. She wanted honest feedback from experts, and she was determined to do whatever it took to revise her manuscripts into a story that works. And yet she was stuck. She'd started mapping what it would look like to implement the feedback that she'd gotten, but she had this nagging feeling that it would mean walking away from something about her story that mattered to her. So what was she to do? What do you do when feedback gets you stuck when it seems to make things worse? Not better. when you just can't figure out how to implement it, no matter how hard you try, that's what I'm sharing in this episode. If you have ever gotten feedback that you just can't make work, this is what I want you to hear. Welcome to your next draft. Today we're talking about feedback. Because the specifics of the story that I shared up front are unique. The manuscript evaluation, the structural feedback, the vision that the writer would be walking away from. But I have heard version after version of this story from so many writers. You know, your story isn't perfect. You know it needs revision. So you seek out feedback, you share your story with alpha readers, critique partners, editors, beta readers, writing workshops. They're smart, creative, well-intentioned people. They're savvy readers. You trust them to see what you are too close to see, and to give you good advice that you need. you hope that when the feedback comes, it will show you what you've missed, give you the direction you've been looking for, and help you get traction in your revision process. But when you get the feedback, it actually leaves you more stuck than before. Pages full of observations about your story, but nothing clear to do with them. A variety of suggestions for changes you should make, solutions you should apply, but so many of them don't seem to fit or feel misaligned with your vision notes on everything from the concept of your story to your use of commas with little or no holistic vision or prioritization of concerns. Yet you believe that feedback is essential to grow. You know that getting feedback is part of being a writer. You want to be a good writer, a serious writer, a professional writer, someone who can handle receiving feedback even when it's tough, the kind of writer who will put on your big boy pants and make the changes that you need to make. And so you do your absolute best to implement the feedback. You fight to make it make sense. You accept that you'll need to bend some things that you thought were important and just hope that they don't break. After all, you tell yourself, great writers kill their darlings, and when you can't make the feedback fit when it feels like your story hasn't just bent but broken, when all of that work leaves you feeling more stuck than before you internalize it, you tell yourself that you are the problem. You, the writer who can't take feedback, you, who's too attached to a darling to take good advice, you who's just not good enough at story to figure out how to make this change you who's so audacious as to follow your nagging gut feelings rather than following instructions from wiser, more experienced story experts. Does this sound familiar? Have you ever struggled to apply feedback to your story and then blamed yourself for it? I sure have. I am very, very familiar with the experience of something not working and me believing that the problem is me. I fear it rarely in writing, since I'm not out here writing novels, but I feel it in all kinds of other areas of my life. As an editor, as a book coach, an employee, a friend. It is my default setting. If something isn't working, I must be the problem in whole or in part. Now I am very tempted to go down a really deep rabbit hole here. I spent decades believing that this is a good and honorable and kind and honest and generous and noble approach to life. It is only in the last few years that I have begun to understand how operating with this as your default setting primes you for abuse. I would love to unpack all of that because I have a lot of hard earned thoughts on it, but that's not the topic of this podcast. So I'll just say, if this resonates with you, like it resonates with me, I encourage you to explore it more. Interrogate that thought. the one that says that you are always at least part of the problem. It might be less true and less helpful than you think. And to bring us back to revision in the context of getting feedback on your writing, here's what I want you to know. If the feedback you receive makes you feel stuck or is difficult to implement, the problem is not you. The problem is the feedback. Sit with that for a moment. The problem is not you. The problem is the feedback. Now, you might think I'm saying the feedback you got is wrong or bad or harmful to your story. That can be the case, but even when the feedback is true, it can still be the problem. Here's what I mean when I say the problem is the feedback. The feedback might be too large or too broad to be helpful. It might point you at a giant concept like. Your character needs a better arc, which is just way too vague and big to be useful. The feedback might point you to a symptom of your story's issues, but applying a solution to the symptom might not solve the root cause. So when you try to follow the feedback, even though it's pointing to something legitimate, the solution doesn't feel right for your story. The feedback might point you directly at the true root cause of your story's issue, But the angle it directs you to approach, it might be one that you don't have access to right now. Imagine that there's a room with a dozen doors. The feedback has pointed you to the right room and to one of the doors that leads to it, but that door is locked. In order for you to get into the room, you've got to try a different door. In order for you to solve the root issue in your story, you've got to explore it from a different angle. When I say. The problem is not you. The problem is the feedback. That's what I mean. Those are three instances where the feedback can be true and it can still be unhelpful to you. Now, the problem with the feedback can also be that the feedback is just bad. It can mean that the feedback is sending you in the wrong direction away from the story that you want to write. Let that possibility sit at the table with you. The feedback you got might be wrong. But even if the feedback is right, this is still true. The problem is not you. The problem is the feedback. It is really, really important to me that you hear this because you are going to get a lot of feedback throughout your career as a writer, and not all of it will be useful or good, or aligned, or even true. You will encounter people who are eager to shape the story of your heart into a product that they believe they can sell. If you enter every space believing that someone else's ideas about your story are more valid than yours, you will hand over your authority and cease to be the creator who is defining your own story. I want you to be so grounded in your story that no one can shake you away from it, not even me. I want you to trust yourself as an author, as a writer, as a storyteller, because story is your birthright. I want you to know in your bones that you are not the problem. You are a smart, creative, hardworking, determined, open-minded, discerning person. When you encounter good feedback, you take it without hesitation. When you struggle to apply feedback, It's not because you suddenly became dumb or lazy, or ignorant, or foolish, or resistant to good ideas. It's because that feedback does not work for you. The problem. Is not you. The problem is the feedback. I remember once I went to my therapist feeling really bad about myself in our previous session, she'd given me some homework, a strategy to use to address a challenge that I was facing. I tried it, but I just couldn't get it to work. I felt like a terrible student who didn't study for a test. I came to our session all stressed, prepared to apologize that I'd failed and to promise that I'd work harder on that strategy next week. This is what she said when I gave her my speech. Well, that strategy didn't work for you. Not a problem. Let's try another strategy. I was floored. I was like, wait, there are more strategies. I didn't fail. If this didn't work this week, I don't have to try it again. We can just do something different. And she told me, yep, there are tons more strategies. That's just one of many. And we'll keep trying them until we find the ones that work for you. It was not my fault. I did not have to contort myself to fit a strategy that didn't work with my brain. I could say I tried it and it didn't work and that taught me something, and now we have more data and can try something else. The problem is not you. The problem is the feedback. If the feedback you've gotten has left you feeling more stuck, that feedback is not working for you. if the feedback feels misaligned with your vision, that feedback is not working for you. If implementing the feedback would require you to contort your story into something you don't recognize and don't want to write, that feedback is not working for you. I want you to do three things with it. One, trust yourself. Two, get a second opinion, and three, let that problematic feedback go. And if you pick just one of those three things, let it be this. Trust yourself because you, dear writer, are not the problem, and your judgment about your story is trustworthy. That right there is what I want you to hear and I'm tempted to drop the mic and wrap the episode right now. but I feel strongly that I would be doing you a real disservice if I went on this whole rant about problematic feedback and then I didn't give you a pathway to get a trustworthy second opinion. So if this episode resonates with you, then I have a service designed especially for you. It's called Next Right Step In It. I take a close look at your story to identify what it needs most right now, and I give you one clear revision step to take. Next. I don't give you a laundry list of problems in your story. I don't give you a 20 page editorial letter. I don't give you suggestions for changes that are disconnected from your vision for your story. I give you one thing to focus on next. One root issue that when solved will create cascading solutions that clear up a myriad of symptoms, and you and I will triangulate together what your best route is to solve that issue. Remember that room with a dozen doors. In next right step, I'll show you where that room is, and then you and I will try a bunch of doors to see which one's open most easily for you. I will not leave you with feedback you can't implement, or that doesn't match your story. I'll show you exactly where to go next to realize your vision and I'll give you the path to get there If that sounds like the kind of feedback that you need. Reach out and tell me about your story. Go to alice udoh.com/nrs and fill out the form you find there. That's alice udoh.com/nrs, and of course, that link is in the show notes as well, and go forth boldly in your writing, letting this truth sink deep into your bones where it cannot be shaken out. You are not the problem. You are a smart, capable, creative, determined storyteller. Your judgment about story is sound, and when you encounter feedback that doesn't work for you, you let that feedback go because you are the authority over your own story. Until next time, happy editing.