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teaberryblueConcrit is hard!
It's also been a source of drama in almost every writing-or-art-oriented group or community I've been part of.
A few years ago, living in Boston with very few friends, I signed up for a writing course as a way to meet people. One of the requirements was to read four thirty-page selections a week (by members of the class), and make notes, then engage in a crit session.
I dropped the course after two classes.
Why? Because no one was actually interested in hearing criticism.
Some people are better editors than writers. I consider myself one of those "Some people." I don't know that many people do, but I think I am a great editor. When I was studying film, I gravitated to editing, when I graduated, I worked my first job as a photo editor. I am good at taking other people's work and really making it shine, no matter what the other people's work is. So I worked really, really hard in that class, to write serious, considerate concrit that wasn't just about telling people what they did wrote, but giving concrete examples of how they could improve it.
And I was told that "well, not everyone is GOING to like a book like this. This is really for a NICHE audience," with the very clear intimation that I wasn't intelligent enough to qualify as part of that select niche audience. That my critique wasn't welcome unless I "understood" what they were trying to do.
I am pretty sure I understood what they were trying to do. I am also pretty sure that they were failing at it, or that it wasn't worth doing in the first place. Especially since out of the four selections I read, I was given this response every. single. time. One novel out of four intended to appeal to a special, niche audience? Sure thing! I can buy that! But four out of four, and I tend to chalk it up to a weird, insular, can-do-no-wrong atmosphere that was evolving in the class. So I left.
On the internet, especially in a blogging community, there's a weird line when you start talking about constructive criticism. We know, instinctively, that concrit has no place in someone's personal blog posts about their every day lives. If someone write five hundred words about how their grandma is dying, you know that the appropriate response might be some words of sympathy or encouragement, not a remark to explain that you felt the second paragraph was too wordy. However, plenty of bloggers and journalers are trying to cultivate a voice, either as practice for a potential career, or to bring in an audience to their blog. And on top of that, plenty of people post "actual writing:" stories, essays, and other tidbits that are clearly more formalized than a simple blog entry. Entries where people are actually giving thought to the way they are structuring their writing, their word choice, the things people think about when trying to craft a piece of writing, as opposed to just getting the thoughts on paper (or virtual paper, as the case may be). And then we're dealing with another story. Because:
As soon as you start putting for-serious-writing up in any public venue, you have to be ready to accept concrit.
Accept doesn't mean agree. Accept means accept. You don't need to like it, but you do need to appreciate and value that someone else went to the trouble of reading your work with a criticism lens on, which is much harder than reading something just for enjoyment. Ninety percent of the time, when someone leaves concrit, they're doing it because they genuinely think you can improve. And if you ever, ever imagine maybe writing professionally-- and I don't just mean as a published author, I mean as someone who writes a presentation or a report for your employer-- you need to be able to take criticism, synthesize criticism (that is, consider each piece and figure out how to work it into your finished product, or whether you should discard it), and move on. You'll also need to learn how to accept criticism that is given once the final product is complete, and just deal with the fact that someone didn't like something about your work, and think about whether it's something you want to consider for your next piece of work.
It isn't fair to your readers to post writing and assume that they will only say 100% positive things. It isn't fair to tell people that they're only allowed to speak if they have something positive to say. You know that whole "If you can't say anything nice..." adage? "Nice" and "positive" aren't the same thing. Sometimes the nicest thing someone can do for you is tell you what isn't working for them.
That doesn't mean that all crit is nice, or that all crit is constructive. I've also seen people rip someone to pieces, formulate random personal attacks, or just plain not know what the heck they're talking about, all in the name of concrit.
Rule of thumb, if you're the one giving concrit? For it to be "concrit" and not just "crit," something about it has to be "con." Telling someone what's wrong with their work is one thing, but tell them how you think they might improve it: that's what makes it constructive. Always include a suggestion for how they might make it better. It doesn't have to be a very specific one-- in fact, I tend to loathe suggestions that are too specific, because it can verge on rewriting instead of suggesting, but make a suggestion. Show that you're not just thinking negatively, not just pointing out flaws.
Another good thing to consider is the difference between "I don't like this" and "this is bad." It can be a very hard thing to learn to criticize a piece of writing or artwork that is not, and would never be, to your taste, even if it were absolutely perfect. You may hate science fiction based in the eighteenth century due to a tragic accident involving time-traveling Voltaire, but that doesn't make all science fiction based in the eighteenth century bad. It just means that you don't like it. Unless you're getting paid to do otherwise, it is totally okay not to leave comments on things that you know you won't like, if you think your personal preference is going to make it difficult for you to give a worthwhile critique.
As an LJ Idol-related aside, you not liking something also doesn't mean that it "doesn't belong" in the competition or that it "doesn't count" as "journal writing." There is only one person who gets to decide whether something "counts," and it is likely not you. You get to decide if you want to vote for it. If you don't like something, you can choose not to vote for it, even if you recognize that it is good. But if someone wants to write poetry or make videos or photo montages of snowmen to tell their story, it counts, because those are the rules of the competition. There is nothing wrong with saying "that's not to my personal taste," but saying "that's not writing," or "that doesn't belong here," is making a leap from your personal taste to an objective value judgment that really, nobody should be making.
So, basically, if you're leaving criticism, make sure you're not being a jerk. If you receive criticism, unless you're pretty sure the person who left it was being a jerk (and you can always ask a friend for a second opinion), it shouldn't be something to fuss about. Maybe you're just trying to relate feelings and aren't too concerned about the quality of your writing or the way you told your story, and that can be frustrating, but the person who left the criticism probably thought your writing was good enough that they thought you were trying for for-serious writing. If you really, really aren't ready for criticism on a piece of writing, tell people so! It should be your responsibility to tell people "no concrit, please," if you don't want any. I know there are a lot of people who disagree with me on that point, but I personally would like to strive for a larger community where solid concrit is open and welcome, not one where people have to seek it out, or where all concrit, even the best concrit, is looked upon with scorn. Listening to what other people have to say about your writing is one of the best ways to become a better writer, and being a better writer isn't just about being a professional writer. Writing is a major part of almost everyone's life. Improving it shouldn't be unwelcome.
You know, unless the person talking is being a jerk.
It's also been a source of drama in almost every writing-or-art-oriented group or community I've been part of.
A few years ago, living in Boston with very few friends, I signed up for a writing course as a way to meet people. One of the requirements was to read four thirty-page selections a week (by members of the class), and make notes, then engage in a crit session.
I dropped the course after two classes.
Why? Because no one was actually interested in hearing criticism.
Some people are better editors than writers. I consider myself one of those "Some people." I don't know that many people do, but I think I am a great editor. When I was studying film, I gravitated to editing, when I graduated, I worked my first job as a photo editor. I am good at taking other people's work and really making it shine, no matter what the other people's work is. So I worked really, really hard in that class, to write serious, considerate concrit that wasn't just about telling people what they did wrote, but giving concrete examples of how they could improve it.
And I was told that "well, not everyone is GOING to like a book like this. This is really for a NICHE audience," with the very clear intimation that I wasn't intelligent enough to qualify as part of that select niche audience. That my critique wasn't welcome unless I "understood" what they were trying to do.
I am pretty sure I understood what they were trying to do. I am also pretty sure that they were failing at it, or that it wasn't worth doing in the first place. Especially since out of the four selections I read, I was given this response every. single. time. One novel out of four intended to appeal to a special, niche audience? Sure thing! I can buy that! But four out of four, and I tend to chalk it up to a weird, insular, can-do-no-wrong atmosphere that was evolving in the class. So I left.
On the internet, especially in a blogging community, there's a weird line when you start talking about constructive criticism. We know, instinctively, that concrit has no place in someone's personal blog posts about their every day lives. If someone write five hundred words about how their grandma is dying, you know that the appropriate response might be some words of sympathy or encouragement, not a remark to explain that you felt the second paragraph was too wordy. However, plenty of bloggers and journalers are trying to cultivate a voice, either as practice for a potential career, or to bring in an audience to their blog. And on top of that, plenty of people post "actual writing:" stories, essays, and other tidbits that are clearly more formalized than a simple blog entry. Entries where people are actually giving thought to the way they are structuring their writing, their word choice, the things people think about when trying to craft a piece of writing, as opposed to just getting the thoughts on paper (or virtual paper, as the case may be). And then we're dealing with another story. Because:
As soon as you start putting for-serious-writing up in any public venue, you have to be ready to accept concrit.
Accept doesn't mean agree. Accept means accept. You don't need to like it, but you do need to appreciate and value that someone else went to the trouble of reading your work with a criticism lens on, which is much harder than reading something just for enjoyment. Ninety percent of the time, when someone leaves concrit, they're doing it because they genuinely think you can improve. And if you ever, ever imagine maybe writing professionally-- and I don't just mean as a published author, I mean as someone who writes a presentation or a report for your employer-- you need to be able to take criticism, synthesize criticism (that is, consider each piece and figure out how to work it into your finished product, or whether you should discard it), and move on. You'll also need to learn how to accept criticism that is given once the final product is complete, and just deal with the fact that someone didn't like something about your work, and think about whether it's something you want to consider for your next piece of work.
It isn't fair to your readers to post writing and assume that they will only say 100% positive things. It isn't fair to tell people that they're only allowed to speak if they have something positive to say. You know that whole "If you can't say anything nice..." adage? "Nice" and "positive" aren't the same thing. Sometimes the nicest thing someone can do for you is tell you what isn't working for them.
That doesn't mean that all crit is nice, or that all crit is constructive. I've also seen people rip someone to pieces, formulate random personal attacks, or just plain not know what the heck they're talking about, all in the name of concrit.
Rule of thumb, if you're the one giving concrit? For it to be "concrit" and not just "crit," something about it has to be "con." Telling someone what's wrong with their work is one thing, but tell them how you think they might improve it: that's what makes it constructive. Always include a suggestion for how they might make it better. It doesn't have to be a very specific one-- in fact, I tend to loathe suggestions that are too specific, because it can verge on rewriting instead of suggesting, but make a suggestion. Show that you're not just thinking negatively, not just pointing out flaws.
Another good thing to consider is the difference between "I don't like this" and "this is bad." It can be a very hard thing to learn to criticize a piece of writing or artwork that is not, and would never be, to your taste, even if it were absolutely perfect. You may hate science fiction based in the eighteenth century due to a tragic accident involving time-traveling Voltaire, but that doesn't make all science fiction based in the eighteenth century bad. It just means that you don't like it. Unless you're getting paid to do otherwise, it is totally okay not to leave comments on things that you know you won't like, if you think your personal preference is going to make it difficult for you to give a worthwhile critique.
As an LJ Idol-related aside, you not liking something also doesn't mean that it "doesn't belong" in the competition or that it "doesn't count" as "journal writing." There is only one person who gets to decide whether something "counts," and it is likely not you. You get to decide if you want to vote for it. If you don't like something, you can choose not to vote for it, even if you recognize that it is good. But if someone wants to write poetry or make videos or photo montages of snowmen to tell their story, it counts, because those are the rules of the competition. There is nothing wrong with saying "that's not to my personal taste," but saying "that's not writing," or "that doesn't belong here," is making a leap from your personal taste to an objective value judgment that really, nobody should be making.
So, basically, if you're leaving criticism, make sure you're not being a jerk. If you receive criticism, unless you're pretty sure the person who left it was being a jerk (and you can always ask a friend for a second opinion), it shouldn't be something to fuss about. Maybe you're just trying to relate feelings and aren't too concerned about the quality of your writing or the way you told your story, and that can be frustrating, but the person who left the criticism probably thought your writing was good enough that they thought you were trying for for-serious writing. If you really, really aren't ready for criticism on a piece of writing, tell people so! It should be your responsibility to tell people "no concrit, please," if you don't want any. I know there are a lot of people who disagree with me on that point, but I personally would like to strive for a larger community where solid concrit is open and welcome, not one where people have to seek it out, or where all concrit, even the best concrit, is looked upon with scorn. Listening to what other people have to say about your writing is one of the best ways to become a better writer, and being a better writer isn't just about being a professional writer. Writing is a major part of almost everyone's life. Improving it shouldn't be unwelcome.
You know, unless the person talking is being a jerk.
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(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-28 04:22 pm (UTC)This is a writing competition. It's not a fiction competition, but it is a writing competition. (And I wouldn't be too hard on the fiction writers, because they're the ones who were getting beat on last year). So I don't agree with your response, because if you are saying that the writing does not carry the work, if you agree with that assessment, then they are right: the writing needs to carry the work. The question, though, for me, is more about what people are perceiving as writing: are they understanding that a video is as valid a text as an essay? Are they understanding that a video needs to be written, in a way, before it is produced? That, like a comic is a written text that has been illustrated, a video is a written text that has been fed into a visual, linear format?
This whole paragraph highlighted what I was trying to say, but couldn't quite figure out - that is, there is a difference between 'putting text on paper' and 'writing' - and "multimedia writing" is still writing, even if it isn't "ordinary linear text". I am doing a whole bunch of research at the moment on the notion of multimedia writing, so I may well come back to you with some more thorough ideas to look over/discuss, if that's okay?
I guess what I mean is that I've come across a number of people who take writing to be only words, so what I think they're actually saying is, "but the text I'm seeing doesn't carry the whole story" which would be true, I think. But this doesn't mean that the whole thing isn't "written", which might be why I'm getting so frustrated, because it feels kind of insulting. Does this make sense?
Also, I didn't mean to sound like I was beating on more "traditional" writers, or fiction writers - I've been greatly enjoying the range of writing-styles I've seen, and find each style as interesting as the next. I just don't think like that, so I feel it'd be disingenuous to submit entries in that form, y'know?
I really like your notion of including process notes with the entry - I may well do that - This week's entry in comic-form originally, and had a very specific starting point. I guess that's something I could play with in the future, which might show people how such an entry is created.
I'm not sure this goes anywhere near articulating exactly what I think about this, but I am considering it, and hopefully I will come up with something more solid in the next few days.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-28 09:45 pm (UTC)So, yeah, I always like to discuss this stuff, so absolutely!
I think the one entry of yours that I would have criticized as not really holding up in the competition was the one with the sneaker photo, before you added a video. It's not so much that it's not writing, but that it is one photo with one line of text and no additional context. A lot of people in the competition are doing and have done some pretty sophisticated photo essays, so one image with one line of text doesn't really live up to readers' expectations here. To see some examples from last season, I'll point you toward This entry (http://rattsu.livejournal.com/100366.html#cutid1) by
I also do think that while, say, fifteen photos in succession with no text can be seen as a narrative or essay and hold up in people's minds as a piece of writing (I did this last season (http://zia-narratora.livejournal.com/600893.html#cutid1)), one image juxtaposed with one line of text really falls more on the "visual art" side of things. Yes, it has some text, and it has a message, but I don't think there's quite enough there for an audience to parse it as reading so much as viewing, and that, to me, is what defines something as writing versus visual art. There is a line, not every piece of visual art or multimedia can also be defined as writing, and I do think that figuring out where that line is is going to be part of what you'll need to be doing in your entries. I think it's important to push that line, but part of pushing boundaries means sometimes not quite succeeding.
I also wonder if part of the disconnect between your intent and others' perception is the context of your very detailed introductions as compared to the rest of your entry: do they see the introduction as the "writing" you are putting forward as your entry?
You are also going to be facing people's very valid concerns about not being able to view your entries at all. I wanted to mention this because I do think you should reconsider presenting multimedia with such limited readable text in the context of your privilege to do so. It's not a question of saying you shouldn't do this because you have privilege; there are a lot of privileges that genuinely create positive things, but it's also important to recognize that if someone objects because they are blind or because they simply can't watch a video or it is difficult to them to watch a video, they are not trying to put down your work, and if you want to be a strong competitor in this particular contest overall, you may need to figure out how to create entries that are accessible to every reader, not just the ones who have sight and good internet connections. Readers are going to get frustrated if they can't see your entries every single week.
I think that's all my thoughts right now, so I'll leave off there!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-30 10:56 pm (UTC)I definitely agree with the criticism of the photo-entry that I did - I was getting all sorts of flack from people saying that videos were bad, and I kind of panicked. Adding the video was the right decision to make, in that case.
I think it's important to push that line, but part of pushing boundaries means sometimes not quite succeeding.
This is so true :)
As a side note to this reply - the term "privilege" makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I've never come across it in a professional or academic context, only on the internet, and you are the only person I have ever seen use it in a more positive context. I don't really know why, but the term makes me so damn edgy. (I was once basically told - on the internet - that healthy, straight, white middle-class people shouldn't have the right to have stories published or work produced.) Do you have a link or something so that I can get an idea of what that notion really means?
I'm definitely aware of the accessibility thing, though - and whilst I've done several videos in a row, I won't be doing only those, and I have been considering other directions I can take - partly, actually, because there is No Way I could create that number of videos, potentially over many more weeks (...lol!). I guess I'm just going to have to suck it up and experiment epicly.
... Google Chrome spell check does not accept that "epicly" is a word. This upsets me greatly.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-11-30 11:26 pm (UTC)The essay on privilege that everyone read in my Freshman year of college was an essay by Peggy McIntosh; there is an excerpt from it here (http://www.antiracistalliance.com/Unpacking.html).
Basically, a privilege in this context is anything positive that one person accepts as a de-facto that another person does not have. These can range from tiny things, like "a white person can buy a band-aid that is her flesh tone in any drugstore" to big things like "a man will make more money doing the same job as a woman."
A lot of privileges are based simply on a majority: if you live in a community that is largely made up of people of your ethnicity, you won't have trouble communicating, whereas if you move to another community, you might not speak the common language most people use. Other privileges are based on institutional inequities (Jim Crow laws in the US would be a good example of this). Others are based on cultural biases, and so on.
Class privilege is really where the word came from, and privilege in this context originally specifically referred to institutionalized class privileges sanctioned by the government (the kind of thing they were trying to stop during the French Revolution, where laws actually encoded that the wealthy could do things that the poor could not).
I think the issue is that awareness of privilege doesn't always mean being ashamed by it, but it does mean having the responsibility to recognize that one has a privilege other people do not. When I started doing Idol last year, I posted a comic without a transcript, and immediately got several responses from people who couldn't see it because they were blind. I had a few other people tell me that the site I used to host some of my images was blocked at work. The role privilege plays in this is that I didn't even consider that other people might not be able to see it: that was me ignorantly exercising a privilege that I should have been aware of.
It doesn't mean that every time I draw a comic, I'm a jerk. It does mean an additional thing to think about each time I draw a comic: is it an idea that I want to share with people who can't see? If so, what would be the best way to adapt the idea to a format that their screenreaders can work with? Sometimes, I choose not to translate posts into a screenreader-friendly format: that is a privilege that I enjoy because I can see. But it's better that I'm aware that it is a privilege so that when I really want to communicate with anyone, I don't forget to include anyone. So when I brought that up to you, that's what I was driving at: if you really want to get every potential vote or every potential comment on your entry, then getting every potential audience member engaged means thinking about format and accessibility.
Man, that was an essay. I figured it was easier to write out than try to dig for a link.