Feedback is our greatest ally and our worst enemy as writers. That’s why I want to talk about feedback and how to make it actually work for you. Who should you listen to? What should you think about it?

It can unlock brilliance in your writing, or it can send you down a very wrong path. Believe me, it happened to me. It can even shut you down if it's harsh enough—I've been there, too.

Feedback can be a writer's best friend or a writer's kryptonite, so I'm going to tell you when, from who, and how to get feedback so that it can be your most powerful tool and not your Achilles’ heel.

These are not tips. I'm not even going to play them down by calling them tips. These are straight up lifesavers.

Let’s start with a quick story.

Picture this: I am in my first writing class after quitting my job as a lawyer, and I've decided I want to write a book.

I've started writing a novel that I've only just had an idea for. I've submitted the opening pages of this novel to my class. I've just gotten back their comments and I'm reading things like, "What's the inciting incident?", "Maybe the scene should be a little shorter," "I don't understand what this character's motivation is here.” I'm sitting there thinking, wait, is this how writing works?

I don't even know what these characters’ journeys in the book are going to be yet, and I'm supposed to be stopping to make this scene tighter or thinking about inciting incidents? What's an inciting incident?

I don't even know. Maybe I don't know enough about writing to write fiction. Maybe I need to read some books about craft and then start writing, but writing a story around a template with things like an inciting incident sounds terrible to me and boring. So maybe I don't want to be a writer.

I was spinning into this existential crisis around writing. That was awful. And this was why it took me six years to finish my novel. The sad thing is, most writing classes are based on the feedback model—and it’s just like this, still.

You join the class, you submit writing samples to the class, and you get feedback from your peers. But we don't do that in my writing program. And now you know why I wanted to spare you this misery.

So here's how I recommend you should actually use the feedback you receive.

Lifesaver #1: Finish your first draft first

My first tip is to finish your draft before you get feedback from any randos.

A rando is anyone who is not a professional giver of writing advice, like an editor or a teacher. But you can totally get feedback mid-draft from a professional at giving writing advice. Why? Because they're trained in how to give you feedback.

A professional will give you feedback that's probative, meaning it's probing into your purpose and vision, asking questions that help you clarify what you want to write—instead of just saying things like, "I don't like this," or "I don't like that," or "You lost me here," which is the kind of things that peers in writing classes say. Randos, meaning other readers, are going to be useful for you to hear from later down the line.

Once you have a draft, you can't hide from randos forever, but I want you to finish your draft first, before you start sending it out to your aunt, your cousin, and your ex. This way, you know what's there before you subject it to broad criticism from everybody and their brother. Otherwise, you risk writing to please others, and that is a surefire way to get derailed.

You are the only one with the vision, and so you need to execute on that vision first and understand what you are doing before you are prepared to hear others' opinions.

The exception is an expert guide, a mentor, or a teacher, because they know how to give you feedback. That feedback is helpful mid-draft.

Lifesaver #2: Consult your gut

With any feedback you get, no matter who it's from, I want you to consult your gut.

How does the idea of implementing this feedback make you feel? Is it nervous but excited? If so, that's a really good thing. Does your body lean in? Do you feel this tingly sense that you can't wait to get started?

These are all signs that you've gotten good feedback, meaning it's feedback that resonates with what you're trying to do in your draft. It's feedback that resonates with that deeper part of you that's in line with what we're creating here.

On the contrary, does the feedback fill you with dread? Does it make you sort of fall flat? Does it make you already feel tired before you've even started implementing it?

If the feedback—and I mean any little piece of feedback, there is no such thing as too small—if it doesn't make you feel that positive energy, ignore it.

If it fills you with dread or if it even just makes you feel tired, that doesn't mean that the person has necessarily given you bad advice or bad feedback. It just means they may not have given you advice for the book that you are writing, and you aren't writing their book. You're writing your book.

Say that again: you aren't writing someone else's book, you are writing your own book.

So if feedback, and the kind of advice that accompanies feedback, doesn't make you feel nervous and excited, you don't have to take it, even if it is from a so-called expert, even if it is from an editor or teacher or literary agent.

Frankly, you probably shouldn't take it unless it makes you feel nervous and excited, which brings me to my last lifesaver.

Lifesaver #3: You can utilize people’s reactions without using their ideas

You can take people's reactions to heart without taking their ideas for how to fix it.

So often feedback comes in the form of advice. Someone says, "I was bored here, so I think you should cut this character," or "I wasn't really into this part, so what if there was a murder in your story?” The fact that they were bored, wanted something more, or were confused, that can be helpful for you to know.

That doesn't mean you have to implement their proposed solution for fixing it, but often people give you really good reactions.

It's valuable for you, as the writer, to know that they found chapter three kind of confusing. It's good to know that they put the book down in chapter six and didn't want to keep reading, but that doesn't mean you have to add a murder to your story or that aliens need to land.

I even do this with my agent and editor. I will listen to what their reaction is. Are they bored in a certain place, distracted, confused, thrown off, feel like they're in a new story? But I know I don't have to take their idea for how to fix it, unless, of course, their idea excites me.

Remember that previous step—if you're nervous and excited about it, then great, that's advice that you probably do want to take. I just want you to remember that you as the author are the CEO of your story. You make the final call.

How much money can I make on my book?

Maybe you're looking ahead and wondering, how much can I actually make on my book? This is a really good question because there's very little data out there unless you're a publishing industry insider.

It's actually a pretty hard answer to find, so I made it my mission to find out. I compiled data from over 1400 published authors and found average and median book advances based on all kinds of metrics, including: genre, whether it was their first book or not, whether they had an agent or not, and who their publisher was. I'm talking graphs, pie charts, everything!

I spent weeks on this and put it all together into this free workshop, which you can watch right now. Just click the link below to find out everything you want to know about current book advances and what you can realistically expect to make on your book.

And if you're serious about becoming a professional author, this really is a must watch. You're not going to find this data laid out this way anywhere else. So click below and you can watch this totally free workshop right now.

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