All the stuff that goes through your mind when receiving feedback on your work

The creative ego is a fragile thing.

An audio version of this post (narrated by me) is available to listen to here:

Hmm… still no feedback on my piece. Probably because it’s so good there’s nothing to say. I’m just sitting here twiddling my thumbs for no reason. Might as well do something useful. Something cultural. Something important. Like finish that Columbo episode. Is it weird that I find Peter Falk attractive? I wonder if I’m the only one. No, I bet there are forums. Falk kink. Sounds fun. I’ll google it.

Surely, no news is good news. That feature was a work of art. They’re going to love it. I poured my heart and soul into that. It was perfect. Ha – that joke I included! Honestly, award-worthy. I’m laughing just thinking about it. And that line about shame – solid. Objectively good. Meaningful. Deeeeeeeep. Of course there’ll be zero feedback. Of course it won’t need editing. I’m positive the next time I see the piece, it’ll be in print.

Lovely.

What a lush gig. I love this client! I love this editor! I love my job! My god, what a day! What a goddamn beautiful day! “You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen! FALALALALALA!” I might pour myself a white wine spritzer to celebrate. Why not?

Ping!

Shit. The feedback email. They sent it. I don’t want to open it. What if it’s awful? What if they’ve pulled the feature apart, line by line? Might as well pull my heart apart. What if they’ve ruined the entire essence of what I was trying to say? What if they’ve shoehorned in their own crap jokes? What if they’ve used words like treat? Oh god, what if they’ve used the phrase ‘sweet treat’? I think I’m going to throw up.

Okay, I’m going to open it. Deep breaths. Here goes nothing…

Wait – what? What the absolute fizzing fuck? How dare they? HOW DARE THEY? They’ve completely misunderstood my point! They’ve misunderstood their own brief! This is so out of order. I’m actually shaking. My heart is thumping so hard I can hear it in my ears. I’m so embarrassed. NO! I’m embarrassed for them.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.

They’re probably wondering why they ever gave me the job. I bet they’ve had a good laugh at my expense in the office – everyone passing the piece around, pointing and guffawing. Oh God, what if they’re right, though? I should just quit. I was stupid to think I could ever do this job. I was always blagging it. I’m so ashamed.

No, wait. I did do a good job! They just don’t understand it. They don’t understand me. They don’t understand art. I’m going to have to email them back and defend myself. I’m going to draft a polite, but firm – and definitely pass-agg – reply. “I feel like you may have skipped over the part where…”

No, wait. I’ll go for a walk first. Clear my head. See how I feel when I get back. That’s the sensible thing to do. No point responding when I’m fraught. Revenge is a dish best served cold and all that.

Okay. I’m back. Refreshed. Ready to reply. I’ll just read through the edits once more, so I know exactly what I need to say.

Oh. Well. Some of these amends actually aren’t that bad. That note even kind of makes sense. And they did highlight that bit and write, ‘Great!’ next to it, which is nice. If I just tweak that… move this over here… substitute that… There. Done.

That took 20 minutes and it reads much better now.

Wow, I’m so glad I didn’t send that rageful email. Ha! Imagine. That would’ve been a bit much. I’ll send the piece back now: “Thanks so much for the feedback – all changes taken in! Have a lovely weekend!”

Right. Now for that spritzer and Columbo kink.

Just One More Thing

Receiving feedback can feel savage. When talking to journo students at Birmingham University (my old stomping ground) that’s always a key lesson. Yet, feedback is never personal (unless it is). It helps to take a breath, take a moment, come back to it and it’ll never be as bad as you first thought (unless it is). Smart feedback is worth its weight in crispy M&Ms (the best kind – I’ll fight you), elevating your work. With a skilled, objective eye, good overseers can spot opportunities to strip back fluff and shave off excess to expose real meaning.

I have worked with, and continue to work with, a lot of excellent feedback-givers and I always respect their views. In turn, they (usually) respect my right to push back. Bad editors are a different story, though. They can sink your work into the abyss. The trick is knowing the difference – and so knowing when to send that pass-agg email or when to simply take the hit and crack on. Either way, good or bad, the initial response is often always the same: HOW DARE THEY? or I’M A FAILURE. The creative ego is a fragile thing.

*Apologies this piece is a little late. I think it’s more likely now to say that JOMT will hit inboxes anytime from Friday to Sunday. Thanks for sticking with me!

---

*Exceedingly modest reminder that I have written eight bestselling mental-health books which have been translated into dozens of languages. I’ve also written a book about the TV show Friends which would make a delightful gift for any Friends obsessives. All are available to buy online or at your local bookshop.