How to Give Helpful Feedback
What feedback is helpful to you? I have been very vocal about terrible feedback in the past, but today, we’re figuring out the best ways to help, no matter what level of writer you are!
Know Your Worth
One of my lovely friends, let’s call her Melvinne, asked me an interesting question. She wanted to know how to provide good feedback to other writers.
I never really considered the question too deeply. I read the script, and I tell them where I feel it can be improved. Badda bing, badda boom, am I right? Well, there was a bit of context added when Melvinne asked the question, and we like to think about the note behind the note, so I let this question sit in my subconscious. I let it simmer. I let it cook, like a delicious stew.
Melvinne was asking me a truly brilliant question. The more I thought about it, the more I realized she was asking me about how I look at concept and craft. How other writers look at it. How she can look at it. How to take it apart and understand what a script is supposed to do, and how to ascertain whether it has done that.
I have two answers to this question. The first answer is crucial from both the reader and the writer’s perspective.
If you want to give feedback, provide your honest thoughts.
Whether you are a master writer with eight decades of experience, or you’re brand new, your honesty is worth quite a lot. Even my worst note experiences provided honest insight into how someone saw my work. That insight is extremely important to any writer (though in that scenario, how that honesty was packaged and delivered missed the mark).
You don’t need to know the ins and outs of screenwriting to provide your honest feedback. Remember, the goal of any script is simple: tell me a simple story that evokes emotion.
While it may not be the life-changing feedback I need, there’s a lot of value in tracking your thoughts and feelings as you read. I have a script where one character’s likeability is going to be crucial to audience buy-in. A read where someone says “I hate him,” is incredibly valuable.
Want to add another layer of value to that? To quote the Backstreet Boys, “TELL ME WHY!”
If you can say, “I hate this character because he’s a heartless bastard and he did xyz, and is therefore unredeemable in my eyes,” you’ve given me one great note.
If you read a plot point, and it doesn’t work for you, I want to know. I want to know your thoughts. I want to understand your experience. By knowing that, I might know that the issue isn’t in that plot point, it could be improperly set up, or my character might just be unlikeable. Scientists would call that character “an asshole.”
That’s worth an extreme amount. Melvinne happens to be an actor whom I think is very talented, as well as a blossoming screenwriter. Melvinne, you KNOW how to critically think about characters on a page, and what might be driving them. That’s a power that’s hard to teach, and will serve you well as you read and write. Many great writers I know take acting and improve classes to gain your skillset; it’s worth more than you might realize!
The Why Is Fascinating
A quick sidenote on this. My wife is obsessed with a talkie called “The Money Pit.” Spoiler warning, but in it, Tom Hanks and Shelley Long’s characters end up with a house that basically falls apart, and so does their relationship. The house is a metaphor. You get it.
In it, Shelley’s character believes she has slept with her ex (because she got too drunk, and when she assumed she did, the ex didn’t correct her). Tom’s character is suspicious this happened, and demands to know the truth. She refuses to tell him.
At one point, he promises that he won’t be upset with whatever her answer is, so she admits her infidelity. He loses his mind.
After me and my wife, and a group of friends watched this movie, we discussed this. Everyone felt that Tom’s character was warranted in his anger. I disagreed. Vehemently. I think Tom’s character was, as scientists put it, a huge asshole.
Why? His partner cheated! That’s horrible!
Well, I couldn’t get past his lie. He manipulated Shelley’s character into an act of courage and vulnerability, and immediately turned on her for it. I was foaming at the mouth. I suspect the point of this action was that they both were heavily in the wrong, but… Listen, every relationship is going to have rocky moments. The worst thing I’ve ever done in my relationships is punish vulnerability and honesty. The best thing my partners have ever done for me was listen to me with empathy, curiosity, and a willingness to move forward. I try to provide that in return when things get dicey. Tom’s character in The Money Pit had committed a relationship cardinal sin.
It was a truly great conversation. My friends never came around to my argument; they felt his anger was wholly justified, but they did understand my reasoning. Maybe mine would have been a note they ignored. I was the only person who felt strongly about this. Maybe not.
The beauty of this story is that depending on what the writer set out to achieve, this might be a reaction they wanted. Or a discussion they wanted.
The why of the reasoning informs the note.
The Nitty Gritty of Feedback
When I give notes, I keep a running list of my reactions to things as I read them. This is more or less how I track my emotions and thoughts, and my intention is to give a writer a roadmap of my experience. Then, I go and do something. I cook. I get some exercise. I clean something. Anything to let my subconscious do its work.
Then I come back to the feedback, and I try to run through everything I know about a screenplay. I ask myself questions, and try to reason out my answers.
Did this character have a clear sense of future in the opening? Was each plot point or tentpole moment met with an emotional reaction? Did each tentpole moment do its job? Did the character change in the end, and did that change make sense to me? Did it feel earned?
This leads us into a bit of a problem: depending on where the script is, depends on how I try to provide the notes. If it’s in a great place, I’m going to try and hone in on what I think is problematic, and try to explain it. If the script is still in need of a lot of love, I’m going to hammer down on the basics.
Let’s talk about what a script is supposed to accomplish. A script is a simple story that evokes an emotional response. A script is a story where, to borrow and/or paraphrase from Tom Vaughan, a character wants something, and something will happen if they fail to get it. It’s a story that involves a transformation. The character changes, or changes the world around them.
A story is about something. That something should be embedded into everything.
So, right off the bat, I will ensure I know what the protagonist wants in the beginning. What do they see as their future? This is the Status Quo.
The inciting incident is something that happens to the protagonist. I ask myself what this is. I ask myself if the character had an emotional response, and if I had an emotional response.
The character then must decide on what to do, as a result of the inciting incident. This decision leads us to act 2.
Act 2 sets up a choice for the character. An adventure. It asks a Central Dramatic Question. This question is, will they succeed or fail? The details matter here. I need to be clear on what that question is.
From the turn into Act 2 all the way to the midpoint, stuff is going to happen. Did that stuff relate to the character’s transformation?
The midpoint is a turn in direction. What happened? Did the character have an emotional response to it? Did it change the stakes?
Now we’re driving towards act 3. Things get complicated to parse out here, but essentially, I want to know if the physical stakes and emotional stakes are tightening around the character.
They’re going to hit an All is Lost moment. Is this the worst thing that can happen to them? Does it make sense? Parsing out the last sequence in Act 2, and the break into 3 is a bit challenging in this format, but I’ll do my best to be both thorough and succinct.
As we come toward the climax, the low point, and the end, is a positive answer to the central dramatic question in crisis? Is this emotional for the character? Do they have a realization that they need to change (but pointedly, haven’t paid for that change yet)?
We move into the final battle, whatever that may be. Does the character come up with a final plan, and implement it? Does it go wrong? If so, does the character have a moment to sacrifice some aspect of their old self, and then do something they’d never do in act 1?
Do I find the ending earned and satisfying?
Finally, the character has likely transformed and learned a lesson. I think back to every sequence, every opinion from the characters, and I wonder how that relates to the protagonist’s transformation. Craig Mazin famously pointed out that Finding Nemo is a masterclass in this. Marlin needs to learn to give his kid some room to take risks in life, and everything he does pushes and pulls him around this lesson. Everything. Same for Nemo in his B Story. This is no easy stuff; it’s dark wizard magic. Most of the time, this is where I end up trying to provide a lot of notes, either because I’m confused at what the transformation was, or I felt it was unearned.
Finally, I figure out my opinion on all these things, and I spend a lot of time thinking about how to present these thoughts to the writer. I can’t dump a million things on them at once. The transformation is most important. If they’ve not earned that, I want to think about how best to advise them. I want to pinpoint the areas where their effort will do the most good.
I also point out typos that are unlikely to be caught by a spellcheck. Those can hide through a thousand drafts, and ideally if I catch them and kindly note it, the writer can fix it and never see them again.
How to Word Feedback
Giving unpleasant news is a challenging skill. It’s a big topic, one that deserves its own blog. Fine, I’ll get on it for the future. Essentially, there’s a simple rule to giving hard feedback called the shit sandwich.
I really loved how funny your script was!
Frank was a total asshole and I felt he didn’t serve the story.
The ending had me feeling good, which I think deserves a pat on the back!
People of any age are more open to hearing unpleasant news when they’re given positives as well. This is how we are taught to write report cards for children’s swimming lessons, and it’s not ideal advice for eulogies. Can you imagine?
“My favorite thing about Joe was his bright wit. He died, and he’s not coming back. The floral arrangement sure is pretty, though.”
Time and place for these skills. The takeaway here is you want to track what works and what doesn’t. You want to acknowledge some strengths, and help teach and tackle the weaknesses. You do that, and you’re going to be just fine at feedback. I believe in you!
This blog has a LOT of structure just tossed out all willy-nilly. If you have questions, or want more information on any of it, please ask. I’ll do my best to answer, or I’ll write a whole blog about it if it requires more time. As with everything, there’s a lot of nuances and exceptions that can render everything I’ve said useless, depending on the script. Nothing is black and white. This is designed to show some of how I think about feedback in general, and I hope it helps.
Did you know I offer feedback on YOUR SCRIPTS through Pitch House Media? Click here for it, and be sure to let me know, so I can tell the team to keep an eye out for you. I’ll give you as thorough a feedback report as humanly possible. You’ll be glad you did. I’ll be glad if I was able to help. It’s win-win!
A buddy of mine won a fellowship thing here in LA that awarded him coverage by some bonafied studio execs. My favorite exec (sadly, he didn't share her name with me) simply wrote a number on the cover page; which was the page where she stopped reading.
Ah feedback, yes - love this! While I don't give feedback on scripts, I do give feedback on a lot of other stuff as an editor. It's a fine balance. I love what you said about positive notes. too, as they are so important. If I'm tearing apart a blog, I always make sure to comment, "Love this," "Perfect, you nailed it here!" and things like that. Also, stepping away sometimes makes a big difference. Gives my subconscious time to work out the kinks. Great blog, Law!