Reader,

Last week, I began a new series about how to receive feedback. (If you missed that email, you can read it here.)

This week, I want to explore what I consider a foundational principle: if you want to receive feedback well, you first have to know what you're trying to do.

A couple of years back, I began writing an essay about my freshman year at college – specifically, an incident where some of my classmates ran afoul of the administration. It turns out that drinking parties are a big no-no for Christian colleges, even the non-Baptist ones. Several students were suspended or expelled. Other students (like me) were placed under scrutiny.

This event occurred towards the end of the school year, casting a pall over the spring. At some point, we started referring to the matter as "The Great Unpleasantness."

Why did I want to write about this episode? Simply because writing is how I make sense of my experiences. And I felt that I was finally ready to examine what I'd learned – good or bad – from that experience.

So, over the course of several months, I cobbled together my memories. It was painstaking and painful work. I wanted to get the story right, but I also felt fuzzy on some of the details. Who said what and when? What's more, I felt unsure of my own perspective. As much as I like playing the hero, I didn't want to portray myself as entirely perfect or innocent. I wanted my story to tell the truth.

These intentions were good, but they ended up getting in my way.

Once my first draft was completed, I shared it with a group of old college buddies. Like me, they were adjacent to The Great Unpleasantness, albeit to varying degrees. I was hoping they would verify my account and praise my retelling. And, to some extent, they did. However, I was taken aback by some of their feedback. Not only did they remember some things differently, but one or two of them also criticized my approach. I was unprepared for that. It ended up stalling my progress on the essay for several months.

My problem was this: I wasn't clear on what I was doing with the essay. I knew I wanted to share this story, but I hadn't nailed down why. I didn't have a clear goal for my readers. Instead, I was hoping that everyone would find what they wanted in the essay. Not only was that a crucial flaw in the work, but it also meant that I didn't know what to do with the feedback I received.

When I finally turned my attention to the essay again, I was quickly frustrated. I took all the feedback I'd been given and tried to figure out how to mollify every concern or critique. That only made things worse. Since I wasn't clear on what I was trying to do, I ended up with new drafts that were even more directionless and incomplete.

Some of their feedback ended up being really helpful. However, I had to ask myself a pointed question first: "What do I want this essay to be and do?"

When we look to our readers – or would-be readers – and ask them to define our purpose, we will always end up in disappointment. They cannot tell us what, how, or why to write. That always has to come from within. Which is why the first rule of receiving feedback starts with you: know what you want your writing to be and do before you ask your readers what they think.

Keep your stick on the ice.

Frank.