The Lost Art of Giving Notes

'Make it super dark'

I recall my first writers group the same way one would recall their first unanesthetized tooth extraction – not fondly. I had just completed my 20-minute short film script and I was eager to get feedback from other writers who were all part of the same community. 

I volunteered to go first and by the time the group was finished sharing their thoughts, I felt like I’d never write anything again. First was the list of things they hated. The list was longer than what I had hoped for. After that, someone else proceeded with everything they thought was lame or clichéd. The next person said they preferred darker stories and went on to detail how he would make my story super dark if he were doing it. It was 45 minutes of people letting their inner critic rampage over my work. The only upside is that it wasn’t just me, every other writer got the same treatment.

Flash forward three years and I have been accepted into the Atlantic Film Festival Script development program with my feature script The Rivals. It was the most exciting thing that had happened to that point in my writing career but it also meant I was going to have go through another critique session with the co-ordinator and the other three participants.

‘Tell me what worked’

When we all got together that first night, I was bracing myself for what was to come. Be strong, suck it up. This is all part of being a writer. Once again I was the first on the block. I’ll never forget the co-ordinator’s first instructions to the group “Let’s go around the table and I want to hear what worked for you in Tony’s script.” Wow, I like the way this is starting. And one by one each of my colleagues said what they enjoyed about the read.

When that was done, he asked everyone to ask any questions that arose during the read — anything that wasn’t clear or was a bit confusing to them. There were some really great questions like, “On page 37 this character says this and then on page 84 they do that and I couldn’t understand why that was. Can you clarify?” I remember thinking that I had never noticed that inconsistency and would look at fixing it. 

I left that first night realizing that the script needed a lot more work than I ever imagined, yet I was really pumped about tackling that next draft. And then on the drive home, another thought hit me like a thunderbolt. At no time did the co-ordinator say “Tell us what you didn’t like about these scripts.” How is that even possible? How did four writers have their scripts completely deconstructed without having them dumped on?

The answer? Someone who understands how to get the best out of creative people was leading the group. 

Constructive criticism?

In the ensuing years I have been in several work situations, either in journalism, TV or corporate communications, where supervisors gave me notes and feedback on my creative work. I wish I could say every experience was as positive as that script development group. I also wish I could say I am 6’3 and 185. In both cases, they would have to be categorized as alternative facts.

It never ceases to amaze me how people whose sole job description is to guide and shape the creative efforts of others have absolutely no idea how to get the best from creative people. I was working in a corporate environment once where a video editor was about to screen his first pass of a much anticipated project for a big client. I didn’t write the script but I was curious to see it so I slipped in the room for the viewing. When it was finished, the account liaison just rattled off everything she didn’t like about it and asked him to fix those things in the next version, then she left. My eyes went immediately to the editor and I saw his physical reaction. His shoulders slumped and he stared ahead blankly. I felt for him because he did really great work on that first pass but you would never know it from the feedback he received. In that situation, she had a choice to either send him into that next edit encouraged and motivated or deflated and unsure of himself. She chose poorly.

So this column isn’t just for creative writing. If you happen to work in a field where you have to give and take notes on others’ work, this is for you too.

What is the real purpose of the feedback?

I would like to think superiors are first and foremost concerned with getting the best work out of employees, but I know that’s not always the case. Sometimes bosses feel they need to put others in their place and they use work critiques to do that. Some are not good at communicating in general, and articulating what they want from the outset — then, they’re disappointed when they don't get the results they envisioned. Others are preoccupied with fighting turf wars or playing office politics. If you fall into any of these categories, nothing I’m about to say will matter. But if you genuinely care about the work product then pay careful attention – your primary objective in giving feedback is to get the best work from that person in the next draft or version.  So it’s not just about what you say but also how you say it. For specific techniques, let the following steps be your guide.

Step #1 – Understand the psyche of creative types

I don’t care if it’s a first novel, travel book, corporate annual report, marketing plan, or video edit, if someone poured their heart and soul into making it the best they can, it is difficult to separate professional from personal when it comes to hearing feedback. There is always immense trepidation that you’re going to hear “This is all wrong” or “This isn’t going to do it.” It’s hard to hear that and not think ‘I’m a failure” or “I can’t do this” or “I’m in way over my head”. If your style of giving feedback is to deal only with what you don’t like in a very direct way, you run the risk of setting off these triggers which will be counterproductive in getting an improved next version or even the next projects down the road. Which is why I strongly suggest…

Step #2 Always lead with the positive

I don’t want to give the impression this is all about coddling sensitive creative types. It bears repeating – it’s all about getting the best work out of the next version. This was the genius in the approach during my session at the AFF program. By starting with the positive, it helped let my guard down and I was more open to hear the more constructive points later in the session. Once I was reassured it was not complete garbage and there was some good stuff in there, I wanted to hear more about the parts of it that weren’t working for the reader. When criticized from the outset, a writer can keep that guard up, not allowing any feedback in. 

Leading with the positive also helps the writer/creator separate baby from bath water. I’ve seen it happen many times where a writer received almost entirely negative feedback and came back with an entirely different draft the next time around. This was usually met with “Why? You got rid of all the parts I liked!” If all the writer hears is what’s not working, it’s very easy to reach the conclusion that nothing in the piece is working. By starting with the positive, you can protect the parts that work when the writer undertakes the next draft.

Step #3 Always frame concerns not as dislikes but ways it can be made better

That second draft of The Rivals was much, much better after having gone through that session and at no point did anyone tell me what they hated about it. There are ways to communicate concerns or parts you bump up against in a way that makes the writer enthused about making those changes. So instead of saying, “I didn’t like the first draft of the annual report. I specifically said we need to highlight the university’s biggest alumni contributors” you could say “I liked A ,B, and C. You know what I think would make it even stronger, what if we put more of a focus on our alumni contributors and share their stories.” Which of those two approaches would send the writer back enthused on providing the approach you want? 

One of the best instances of this I experienced was when I was developing a TV series with my producer and creative partner, Jordan. I was in the middle of wrestling with a script and I knew it wasn’t working. It was one of my weakest efforts in years and I felt lost and discouraged. One day I met with Jordan at our regular coffee spot and I said ‘give it to me straight, I know this is awful, tell me how you think we can fix it.” Jordan took a swig of his coffee, thought about it for a few seconds and said “You know what I really like about your writing? It’s funny but there’s also a lot of heart in it and when I read this script, I’m not seeing a lot of that there.” 

It was like an instant parting of the clouds. He was right. There wasn’t any heart or story in that script, it was just a series of jokes and gags. I couldn’t wait to get back to my computer and write the next draft which was significantly better. And then a couple of days later, it dawned on me the amazing feat Jordan pulled off. He was able to tell my why my writing sucked in a way that made me feel better about myself and led me to producing better work. I would suggest every writer find their Jordan, but you can’t have that one, he’s mine.

Step #4 – Always be honest and develop trust

Jordan and I got to a point where we could be honest with one another when sharing our thoughts on creative issues. We could discuss creative differences openly because we each knew neither one was working from an agenda. This was crucially important in making the work better each time.

Another great working relationship I have is with Andrei. When we first started working on projects together, he was always honest with his feedback but he was also careful to protect the writer. One day I was pitching a direction for a corporate video and this idea was genuinely awful. Even as I was midway through the pitch I realized “oh boy, why am I pitching this.” When I was done, Andrei was the first to speak and he said “I liked where you were going with creating a world where…” He then went on to replace the content of my terrible idea with a much better execution of that general direction. He didn’t BS me or pretend he liked something he didn’t. He found the one element that worked in the pitch and ran with that.  I never forgot that experience and I was determined to make that script the absolute best it possibly could.

So the lesson is you don’t have to lie or say phony positive things about work you are not happy with. But by framing it as “Here’s what I like and this is how I think you can make it better” you will get much better work the second time around.

The Fallacy of Writer’s Block

Imagine we struck up a conversation on the street one day and you mentioned to me that you’re thinking of building a house. “Are you serious?” I exclaim. “I am amazing at building houses! You’ve got to let me build your house, it’s going to be the most incredible thing you’ve ever seen.” So you say “OK, great,” and you leave me to it.

About six months later you track me down and we have the following exchange:

You: Hey how’s the house coming along?

Me: Ah, not great. Truth be told, I had to give up.

You: Give up?!? What are you talking about?

Me: It’s not my fault, I got about halfway through but then I came down with a bad case of builder’s block.

You: Builder’s block? What’s builders block?

Me: You know how it is when you’re going good for a while but then you just kind of blank. That’s what happened and I just didn’t know where to take it next. I wasn’t sure if it should be like faux mid-century, split level or post-modern so I got stuck and had to abandon it.

You: Why didn’t you just follow the blueprints?

Me: Yeah, that’s not the way I like to work. I’m not a “blueprints guy”. You see, I’m an artist and I just like to, you know, grab the hammer, some nails and the wood and just start putting up frames and start hanging drywall because, as an artist, the house will speak to me and tell me what it wants to be.

 Now at this point, I’m guessing you will have only one of two reactions.

1.      “Oh you poor thing, I’m so saddened to hear you came down with a tragic case of builder’s block. Are you OK? Is there something I can do for you?”

Or…

2.      “Are you [EXPLETIVE] kidding me? There’s no such thing as builder’s block. You’re just an idiot.  Nobody can build a house by just winging it. What kind of a moron would try to do it that way?”

I’m pretty sure we all know which one it would be. Now if you’re saying ‘OK that’s very cute but writing is nothing like building a house’, congratulations, you just learned your first lesson in overcoming writer’s block.

Lesson #1 – Writing is exactly like building a house

One of my favorite quotes on writing is from the Robert McKee’s classic Story where he writes:

Of the total creative effort represented in a finished work, 75% or more of a writer’s labour goes into designing story – only 1% of writers understand this.

This quote has always stuck with me because whenever someone has come to me with a story like “Can you help me? I’m completely blocked. I have this feature script and I got halfway through and I just can’t go any further,” I always ask the same question already knowing the answer. “Did you design the story in advance? Did you outline it before you started writing?” and they will respond with a sheepish “No.”

100% of the time. No exceptions.

Because just as nobody builds a house without blueprints, no piece of narrative writing should be done without first putting in the hard work of story design that McKee believes should be 75% of your total effort.

I have long believed that a writer has two distinct jobs: (1) designing story and (2) executing pages. I am certain what most writers call ‘writer’s block’ is simply the inevitable failure that comes from trying to do both jobs at the same time.

It’s at this point in the conversation where I usually get a little pushback in the form of “I understand but I’m an artist and the whole outlining thing isn’t how I like to express my art.” Which brings us to…

Lesson #2 – You’re not an artist, you’re just lazy

If you are writing poetry or stream-of-consciousness prose, I might accept that line of thinking. But if you are trying to construct a narrative story designed to engage a reader and/or audience, you don’t get to hide behind the artist label. Because I don’t believe narrative writers are artists; I believe we are more like craftspeople. I think we as writers have more in common with carpenters and cabinet makers than we do Jackson Pollack-style abstract artists.

That’s because it’s difficult for anyone to really judge abstract art, it is very subjective. A few squiggly lines and color blotches could mean nothing to one person and be deemed the work of a genius by someone else. Who can really say one reaction is right and the other is wrong?

But with a craftsperson, if you open the wooden cabinet door and it comes off in your hand and the shelves are all slanted, you can’t explain it away by saying “Oh he’s an artist and he’s making a statement.” No, he’s a shoddy craftsman who has done terrible work. Similarly, a writer needs to put in the time and effort to ensure the finished work is a solid piece of craftsmanship.

So if it isn’t about artistry, why do so many emerging writers balk at the outline stage and just want to jump right into the writing? More times than not, it’s because they are lazy. The outline stage isn’t fun for a lot of people. It’s not what makes them feel like a writer. They feel like this is supposed to be a respite from hard work, it shouldn’t be hard work itself.

Sorry Charlie. There’s no shortcut to being a master craftsperson. If you don’t want to get stuck in phase two, you have to put in the work in phase one. “Okay, but you have to admit, the outlining process does constrict creativity,” I often hear. To which I say, ‘I’m glad you brought that up’.

Lesson #3 – It may seem counter-intuitive but outlining is extremely liberating for a writer

I don’t want to give the impression that I don’t believe in inspiration and the magic that can happen when the muse taps you on the shoulder and it feels like you have sparks coming out of your fingertips as they strike the keyboard. I’ve experienced it too many times myself to pretend it isn’t real. And this is precisely why you need to do the necessary prep work before you start writing.

You will not believe how freeing it is when you are working with only the creative part of your brain. When you have already done the logical, puzzle-solving work and all you need to do now is make the work fun, fresh, and jump off the page, it’s the best writing experience you’ll ever have.

This is because you don’t have that other side of your brain nagging at you, harassing you with thoughts of “where is this going? What’s going to happen next? What am I going to do with this character?”

When I write a feature script or a TV episode, I do it from a step outline. Everyone does theirs a little differently but mine is usually a sentence or paragraph that explains what happens in the scene. I already know the gist of what needs to happen in the scene before I start writing it. Here is a snippet of a step outline from a feature Dan vs. Darwin which I had in development with Telefilm a few years back.

•          Dan at work tears a strip off the new guy for getting his coffee order wrong and callously fires Barry without a second thought. Dan learns of dinner with his father that night. 

•          Dan crashes Olivia’s class and begs her to be the human shield at dinner.

•          At dinner Dan tires quickly of dinner with the family and notices a stunning brunette BETH whom he tries to pick up. He fails miserably. We learn of his father’s Man of The Year Award.

This was a script about a spoiled rich guy who has his wealth stripped away and is forced to try to make it on his own when he falls in love for this first time but has no idea how to date as a commoner. These are three scenes that appear in Act I as Dan is building up to his big fall.

You see that with only a sentence or two, I have enough to write the scene. I know what comes before each scene and I never have to wonder what happens next because I’ve already worked that out. So every time I start a new scene, the ONLY thing I have to think about is how to make this the most dynamic, fun, engaging scene I possibly can. For a writer, that can only be described as…liberating.

“Okay, but what about the times I do try to write from an outline and I’m still stuck. Nothing I’m writing is any good. What do I do then?” you might ask. To which I would suggest you heed the sage advice of…

Lesson #4 – Give yourself permission to suck

Look, I get it. There are times even with all the outlining, you can’t help but feel that everything you write bears a striking resemblance to a steaming pile of dog crap. I’ve been there. In those times, the best way to move forward is to move forward.

Often what’s happened is you are trying to write while in your own head. You are too self-consciously writing. A former colleague who was a magazine editor used to call this 'throat clearing writing'. He said he could always tell when a writer was too much in their own head in the beginning of a piece. His solution was usually to lop off the first few paragraphs right up until the point when they got through it and started to write in their natural voice again.

The other thing to keep in mind is that writing is rewriting and if you are working on a first draft, it’s okay if everything is not jaw-dropping brilliant the first time out. Don’t compare your first draft with JK Rowling’s finished work because that has been written, rewritten, edited, rewritten a few more times and edited again.

If all you can think of is a bad or clichéd way to execute a scene, then write that as a placeholder. Because I can guarantee once you get into your groove, you’ll go back to it and make it much better. You only get stuck if you allow yourself to get stuck.

Nobody understands better than I how brutishly difficult writing can be . It is bll work and not for the faint of heart. But I honestly believe if you do the outlining, and write through the doubt, there is absolutely no reason why you should ever feel like you have writer’s block again.