How to give constructive feedback to writers (or anyone)

Giving clients constructive feedback on their texts is integral to what language professionals do, yet it requires delicacy and hinges on a deeper question: how do we effectively share our expert assessment while also developing a mutually satisfying relationship with the client, especially if the feedback is difficult or unwelcome?

Susan Frekko deftly led our exploration of this question by introducing principles developed by psychologist Alfred Adler and running us twice through two feedback scenarios, once using an editor-knows-best approach, and again, following an Adlerian-inspired approach. This allowed us to contrast the experience of giving and receiving feedback without and with the Adlerian principles of horizontality (equality and mutual respect in interactions), social interest (how one can contribute to the welfare of others) and encouragement (helping someone develop the courage to tackle challenges).

In the first feedback scenario, we roleplayed an editor–writer meeting. Writers described their text and editors gave feedback following instructions only they were privy to (you are the expert and doubt the writer can improve the text). My editor was brusque, noting that my English was error-ridden and the road ahead would be difficult. Despite it being an exercise, I felt the sting! (My editor didn’t enjoy adopting the instructed attitude either.) When we re-ran the roleplay, editors’ secret instructions were Adlerian (you are the writer’s intellectual partner and confident the writer can improve the text). This time I was more open to the feedback and the invitation to dialog further with my editor.

In the second scenario, we read a sample marginal note (slide A), imagining ourselves the recipient and reflecting on our feelings towards our text and editor. Although the feedback was valid, I felt deflated but also indignant at the curt, commanding tone. We refashioned the note with horizontality, social interest and encouragement in mind, sharing solutions along the way and discussing aspects of the reworked note in slide B. For example, the nods to horizontality – e.g. “I can see”, “I think that’s happening a bit here” – smooth the tone by positioning editor and writer as intellectual equals, with the final say belonging to the writer. The reworking of the final edict as “If we streamline this section, your core argument will come through more clearly and your readers will stay with you all the way” appeals to social interest by evoking the reader, and offers encouragement by anticipating reader reaction and signaling continued support from the editor.

For truly difficult feedback, Susan’s recommended approach is to email the writer, note the text’s strengths and suggest a meeting to discuss the sticky points and ways to improve its likelihood of being accepted. The meeting is an opportunity to encourage the writer and help them prepare for the feedback to come after the meeting.

The animated closing discussion raised additional points about deploying Adlerian principles in feedback. To what extent is using “we” in our feedback a good strategy? For thesis writers, “we” isn’t usually appropriate, since intervention by external editors is limited. “We” may also be off-putting to some writers, so it might be wise to avoid it until the necessary rapport with a writer has been established. Relatedly, the approach might lead to notes or emails that writers from cultures that prize brevity in communication would view as overly long and annoying.

The session reiterated a key added value we bring to clients: the ability to understand both the writer and their context and temper our practice and interactions appropriately. It was also rewarding to see how my approach to feedback – which I now recognize as already somewhat Adlerian – can be sharpened and better articulated.

This METM25 presentation was chronicled by Wendy Baldwin.

Featured photo by METM25 photographer Julian Mayers. Slides reproduced with presenter’s permission.