Learning to Love Criticism
Many people hate criticism. I certainly used to. When I was 19, my boyfriend lived across from a small neighborhood park. One sunny Saturday afternoon, I drove out to see him. The park was full of families on the playground and teenagers playing baseball, so I couldn’t park immediately in front of his house. I parked just around the corner. As I got out of my car, another car parked behind me. The driver came over and complained that I had taken his parking spot. As he berated me, I knew he was unjustified and unreasonable: Residents, visitors, and park users were all expected to use these parking spots. Nonetheless, I was devastated. I spent the next hour on my boyfriend’s couch, sobbing and stuttering through my story. Even though I knew I had done nothing wrong, I was upset because a complete stranger – who I had never met before and would probably never meet again – had criticized me.
Some people distinguish between criticism and feedback: They say criticism is hurtful and focused on the past, while feedback is constructive and focused on future improvements. However, I did not make that distinction when I was 19. I felt hurt and defensive even when well-meaning people tried to help me improve. For example, I could be reduced to tears by a teacher writing next to one of my paragraphs, “Please clarify.” In both my personal life and at school, I looked for evidence that I was wonderful, and I was devastated by any comment implying that I or my work were less than perfect. Thus, I did not seek out feedback, and when teachers and supervisors provided it, I tried to ignore it.
A decade and a half later, I attended a full-day workshop entitled Publish and Flourish. The presenter, Tara Gray, explained systematic methods of obtaining writing feedback and concrete steps to solve the identified problems. For me, this was a turning point. I came to love feedback. I learned that writers know too much about their topics to identify sections that need more background, but that real readers can identify those sections easily. I discovered that feedback can help me identify the sections that need the most work, so I don’t waste time polishing material that is already good. I realized that the only way to know if others find my writing understandable and persuasive is to ask others to read it. I learned that I don’t have to follow others’ advice about my writing: It’s the reader’s job to identify issues, but it’s my job to fix them.
Now that I know how to ask for feedback and what to do with it, I seek out feedback on most of my work. I seek mentors who know more than me. I seek collaborators for problem-solving. I ask for feedback on my syllabi and assignments and course schedules. Two minds really are better than one. Feedback is a way of getting others to do some of my work, but in a more powerful way than just trading one hour of my time for one hour of theirs. Having different perspectives allows me to strengthen my work in ways that wouldn’t be possible if I just spent more time on each project myself. Feedback helps me learn and improve.
However, some feedback is more useful than others. I now distinguish between five kinds of feedback. First, there are on-target comments, in which someone identifies a potential weakness in my work. When I receive an on-target comment, I use it to improve my work. I start by deciding if I agree with the comment. If I do, I address the problem as best I can and then send my work to others to see if the issue remains. For example, maybe a reader found one paragraph boring: I would check for passive voice, wordiness, and strings of prepositional phrases, and I would try to increase organization, flow, and concrete examples.
If I initially disagree with a comment, I use a systematic process to overcome my defensiveness, so I can still use the comment to improve my work. First, I try to understand the comment. For example, I might read the comment multiple times, while reviewing the parts of my work that they are referring to. If the comment comes from someone I know personally, I might ask follow-up questions. Next, I write the ideas down in my own words, as clearly as I can. Finally, I return to the comment later to see if I can use it somehow. Sometimes, I find that I’m more receptive to the comment an hour later or a week later. For example, maybe I think the lack of parallelism in a sentence is okay, even though one reader found it problematic: I realize that introducing parallelism is feasible and that the revised sentence is no worse than the original, and so I make the change. Sometimes, I still disagree with the comment an hour or two later, the next day, or the next week. In that case, I try to identify nearby problems that may have tripped up the reader. For example, perhaps a reader suggested a punctuation or wording substitution, and I realize the sentence is not concise. Or perhaps the reader said a sentence was too long, and I realize the paragraph has an unclear organizational structure. Thus, when I disagree with an on-target comment, I still use it to improve my work, though sometimes not in the way the feedback-giver intended.
Second, there are overwhelming comments, in which someone identifies a real issue, but it’s too much work for me to fix. In one sense, overwhelming comments are just another example of on-target comments, but they are different emotionally and practically. For example, maybe someone identified a critical flaw in my research design and said I need to re-do my entire study, or maybe someone suggested a better way of analyzing my data, but I don’t know that technique. When I receive an overwhelming comment, I feel hurt and inadequate. Nonetheless, I address these comments using the same steps as other comments: I write them down, figure out what the solution is, and list the necessary steps to make that solution happen. Sometimes I am able to inch towards that solution, either by taking one small step at a time or by getting help from others. Other times, I alter my goals. For example, rather than re-doing the study, I add a paragraph about limitations and then submit to a lower-tiered journal. Whether I solve the problem or change my goals, initially overwhelming comments become less overwhelming because I know what I need to do: read the feedback, comprehend it, write it down.
Third, there are off-target comments, in which someone says something that is completely irrelevant to my work. For example, they might comment about the children in our study, when in fact our participants were adults; or they might comment about the categories we used, when in fact our variables were continuous. When I receive an off-target comment, I recognize that my writing was unclear and try to identify why the reader was confused. Then I fix the apparent cause of the problem and send my work to others to see if the confusion remains. To partially forestall off-topic comments, I ask early readers to identify the paper’s main point. If their answer does not correspond to what I was trying to say, I look for material that strays from my main point, and I remove it. I also reorganize sentences, paragraphs, and the entire paper to create a stronger, more focused story-line.
Fourth, there are personal attacks, in which someone says something bad about me as a person. For example, they might say that I am lazy or ignorant or that this is obviously the very first article I’ve ever written. When I receive a personal attack, I try to identify the weaknesses in my work that lead to that comment, and then I address those weaknesses as best I can. In other words, I try to interpret personal attacks as on-target comments – just ones that were not expressed very clearly. Being able to address the root cause of such comments takes out their sting. If I cannot tie the comments back to my work, then I simply put them aside: Those comments are more about the speaker than about me.
Finally, there are compliments. For example, sometimes reviewers describe both strengths and weaknesses of my papers. And sometimes when I ask students for feedback, they provide compliments before identifying sections that need work. How I feel about compliments and what I do after receiving them depends upon when they are received. If I receive a compliment on my finished work, I feel pride and joy. I treasure these compliments and often keep them so I can savor them again in the future. If I receive a compliment on work that is nearly finished, I feel hope. Compliments suggest I’m almost done. I put the compliments aside and look for things I still need to improve. Finally, if I receive a compliment when I asked for feedback, I feel disappointment. I wanted help improving my work and compliments do not help me improve. I look through the rest of the feedback for comments that can help me.
Reading this article, you might be thinking, “It was interesting to hear that you learned to love feedback and so are able to use it to improve your work. But how does that help me? How can I learn to love feedback?” I recommend you take control of the feedback process. Deliberately ask for feedback on low-stakes material, like newsletter articles, answers to graduate school interview questions, and drafts of term papers, so you don’t feel stressed about getting it perfect. Ask for feedback early in the writing process, when you know your work isn’t finished, so you can view that feedback as a way of helping you write more efficiently. Ask for feedback often, so you can check whether your revisions have addressed the previous problems, and so you can receive the reward of noticing that feedback is improving your work. Ask for feedback from people who like you, so you are able to view the feedback as well-intended. Finally, ask for feedback to identify problems rather than solutions: Pay attention to any suggestions you receive (and even feel free to ask for those suggestions), but remember that getting feedback and suggestions does not reduce your responsibility for the final product.
In addition to obtaining as much friendly feedback as you can, I also recommend you take every opportunity to provide feedback to others. By providing feedback, you’ll come to learn how much caring and effort is involved. Knowing this will make you more generous and forgiving when someone does not express their feedback as diplomatically or clearly as they could. This will help you look benevolently on the feedback you receive and thus contribute to you learning to love feedback.
Once you’ve learned to deal proactively with well-intended feedback from friends and allies, you’ll be better able to benefit from feedback from others. You’ll benefit from feedback from instructors, thesis committee members, and reviewers, whose good intentions you might not naturally assume. You may even benefit from comments from strangers who clearly do not have your well-being at heart. Regardless of the comments’ source, you’ll squeeze as much benefit from them as you can and set the rest aside. Like me, you may be able to receive feedback without feeling hurt or defensive.
A few years after attending that momentous workshop, I was walking my dog in town when I saw a loose dog. It came around the corner, with no leash and no owner in sight. I didn’t know if that dog was friendly or not, and so I crossed the street to get further away. Then the owner – a tall, white-haired man – appeared from around a bush. He stepped closer and berated me for having crossed the street. He was affronted at the implied criticism. He yelled that his dog – now quietly sniffing a bush twenty feet behind him – was better behaved than mine. After a couple of minutes, he stopped yelling, and I continued on my way. As I walked, I thought with sympathy about all the things that might have led him to react so strongly. I also thought of all the good reasons people might cross a street to avoid being too close to another dog. I did not feel sad or hurt; I did not cry. In the years since this man yelled at me, I have thought about this incident several times and have always concluded that crossing the street was a fine thing to do. When I see off-leash dogs now, I still cross the street. Indeed, I often cross the street when I see on-leash dogs if the sidewalk isn’t very wide. But I have learned to smile broadly when I do so and yell a cheery hello.
Kimberly A. Barchard is a Professor in the Department of Psychology at UNLV and is the Director of the Interactive Measurement Group. She works to empower lab members to accomplish their personal and professional goals, particularly through the development of leadership, research, and writing skills.