My Friends All Hate My Novel In Very Different Ways

Or, how to survive a critique

I recorded a voice-over for this post. Click the play button above to hear it.

After I finished a draft of my psychological suspense novel, I sent the manuscript to five different friends. Their responses were startling—and insightful.

If you’ve ever asked anyone to critique your manuscript (maybe you’ve even gotten a paid critique from me?), you know the experience can be fraught. Every reader experiences a story differently; sometimes readers seem determined not to read the story the way you wrote it at all.

When I sent my draft off to my friends, I didn’t know what they would think of it. I suspected they might not understand my slightly surreal plot, or that they might not liked my flawed characters. But their actual issues with the manuscript were not what I would have guessed—proof that writers are often blind to what a draft needs. Now I’m trying to figure out what to make of their critiques, and how to use their notes to revise the manuscript. (Also: how to shake the paranoid suspicion that they secretly hate the novel. Maybe you know this feeling.)

Let me tell you how I’m surviving the experience, in the hopes you can take away some ideas on how to do the same.

First, I have to contend with the fact that each person who critiqued my manuscript had a different way of going about it. I told each friend that I wanted to hear any and every note they had, and I didn’t give them any instructions for feedback. I think I’m okay with this kind of mild chaos. But if you feel different from me—if you want a specific kind of critique—it’s important to tell the person you solicit the critique from; you might be imagining that there’s a vaguely standard way to critique a novel, but I’ve found that there isn’t!

Here’s how each friend approached critiquing my manuscript:

• The literary fiction writer of somewhat surreal stories:

  • Periodically sent voice messages to tell me what she loved as she read the manuscript.

  • Called me to talk about her general thoughts after she’d finished the whole manuscript.

  • Answered my questions about whether she understood certain plot points that I worried were too confusing.

• The librarian and writer of funny novels:

  • Marked the manuscript with reactions as he read.

  • Wrote a short summary of every chapter, along with his hang-ups for some chapters.

  • Wrote a letter telling me what he loved about the manuscript and what he thought wasn’t working.

• The creative writing teacher and writer of thought-provoking novels that make me sob:

  • Sent some very encouraging text messages after she finished reading.

  • Wrote a long letter complimenting the manuscript and asking lots of questions meant to help me further explore my plot and characters.

• The very smart friend who reads a lot and isn’t a writer:

  • Marked the manuscript with confusions, places she felt pulled out of the story, and lots of “!” at intense plot points.

  • Wrote a letter telling me which aspects of the manuscript did and didn’t work for her.

• The [redacted] writer:

  • Never got back to me—I include this to note that critiquing a manuscript is such a time-consuming, deep-thinking project, and life can easily make it impossible to fill such a huge favor.

  • Okay, it’s also possible some people will hate your manuscript so much they can’t bring themselves to finish it. I’m almost sure that’s not what happened here(?).

I’m not sure which style of critique worked best for me in this case. The questions were great because they didn’t feel negative at all, and they presented me with so many paths for better understanding my characters. The phone call was helpful in that I could ask for clarifications and examples. The in-line notes made directly on the manuscript let me understand exactly which moments in the story weren’t working. The chapter summaries let me see how clearly (or not) a reader might interpret the plot as I had written it.

I think any type of critique could work for me as the one on the receiving end. But after years of receiving critiques, I’ve noticed that a phone call paired with some type of notes (in-line notes, a letter, questions) is the absolute most helpful kind of feedback for me. I’m curious to know what kind has been the most helpful for you?

Recovering From Critique

Although each critique was delivered in a different style, my reaction to each was the same: despair. I immediately rejected all praise and felt demoralized by the criticisms. (You might be thinking, Aren’t you a thrice-published author? Shouldn’t you be used to handling critiques by now? Yes, and yes. Alas.) One critique made me decide I should not be a writer at all (a thought that was interrupted by a text from a friend: “Your first page is beautiful!” Crisis averted).

But here’s the good news: each critique seemed far less damning upon a second read (which I tackled after putting all the critiques out of my head for a little while). I really hope that in the future I can remember to read each critique as quickly as possible the first time through and give each a more thoughtful read later, after the sting has lessened. I recommend this method to you as well, unless you aren’t prone to my same anxieties.

Another thing I tried that really did help, and which I would definitely advise you to do, is to create a “praise sheet” with compliments from across all the critiques. I hunted through every in-manuscript note, and every line of every letter, and created an entire page of praise. This not only encouraged me but also helped me see which elements of the story I should lean further into.

I’m going to include some of the best pull-quotes here, to make me feel better about all this talk of criticism:

“Mind-blowingly brilliant…I’ve truly never read anything like it.”

“Just absolutely stunning… The imagery is so gorgeous that I could read it forever.”

“Compelling from the first page.”

“I was so immersed that I had trouble pulling myself back out of the feeling.”

“I couldn’t put it down… Drew me in completely.”

“I legitimately had goosebumps.”

“Truly heartbreaking.”

“It feels so original to me. I can’t remember reading anything like this.”

I feel a hundred times better after compiling those quotes just now. And I’ve probably left you wondering why I think these people hate my manuscript. But a manuscript critique almost always contains more criticism than praise, and the criticism must be considered deeply and for a long time before it leads to a clear plan for revision; it registers more than the praise does.

Reconciling Different Views

Each friend experienced my story differently, which is how reading goes. Obviously, this makes planning a revision tricky. One friend was very unhappy with the ending while another felt it was very effective. Two friends found a certain plot point beyond belief, while the other two didn’t seem to mind it. One enjoyed the surreal quality of the story’s timelessness, while another wanted clear signals as to the year the story takes place. One requested that a certain character die. (I bet you can guess which friend requested this, based on the descriptions I gave of each one above.)

These different views are incredibly dizzying to take in all at once. But I worked up the nerve to make a bulleted summary of every criticism across all the critiques. (This took up several pages and was not as fun as listing all the points of praise. Blargh.) From there, I realized:

• The critiques overlapped quite a bit. For example, every person said, in different words, that they wanted to know more about the characters’ backstories.

• Contrasting views often weren’t actually contrasting. For example, one person liked the ambiguous ending, while another wanted more clarity. But the person who wanted more clarity still wanted the novel’s ending to let her choose between two (clearer) interpretations of an ambiguous event.

• Seemingly different criticisms often had the same root. For example, two people had different views of the same plot point, but those views could be reconciled by clarifying the characters’ motivations.

• Each person had a different focus, and that’s a good thing. One person focused very deeply on the characters. One carefully tracked the timeline of events and noted inconsistencies. One focused on pacing and intensity. One had a gift for discussing scene-work. This leaves me with different tools for solving each problem in my manuscript.

I’ve long found that an advantage to getting critiques from different types of writers is that each has a different strength when it comes to story. And because the friends who critiqued this manuscript are also voracious readers, they had a wide enough scope to understand the kind of story I was trying to write.

Creating A Plan

I’ve sorted all the criticisms, but now I have to decide how to revise the manuscript. I find myself asking these questions:

• What is my vision for the story, and how do the criticisms I received help me understand that vision better than I did before?

• How do I address these criticisms in a way that adheres to that vision?

• Where do I start with my revision? Do I re-think the plot first, or re-imagine the characters first? (Everyone seems happy with the setting and tone.)

My first step is to make sure I have a clear vision—otherwise my next draft will be some kind of strange soup; I’ll just end up writing what I think I “should” write. And then I’ll end up with “should soup.” No, thank you.

Honing my vision means thinking of books, movies, etc. that seem to have successfully pulled off some element of what I’m trying to do: ambiguous endings, surreal elements, haunting atmosphere.

It also means asking myself what touches me most deeply about my story, what allows me to express something I otherwise can’t express in my daily life, what feels most true and beautiful, what’s sympathetic to human experiences. (For another kind of novel, I might ask very different questions, like, What’s most fun, most innovative, most like what I would want to read?)

Once I’ve articulated my vision to myself, I can decide how my bulleted list of criticisms helps me achieve it. And then I’ll need to make a step-by-step plan.

More on that another time.

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Your Turn

If you’re trying to make the best use of critiques you’ve received for your story, ask yourself these questions:

1. Which strengths have been identified for me in these critiques? How will I lean into these strengths as I consider my vision for my story?

2. What do I think are the underlying issues for the criticisms in these critiques? Is there a broader picture that connects the story’s weak points (character motivation, sentence clarity, etc.)?

3. What about my story am I most excited to revisit now that I’ve gotten a critique? What does that tell me about my vision for my story?

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Read Part 2 Of This Series