Reader,

Here's my assertion this week: your readers' feedback tells you more about THEM than it does about your work.

Last week, I encouraged you to get clear on what you want your writing to do. You could say that this week's encouragement is simply the other side of that coin.

When we ask a friend to read over something we've written, we're often looking for a value assessment. Is it good or not? Most of us aren't brave enough to put it so bluntly – at least, I know that I'm not. But that doesn't change the truth behind our intentions. We're essentially asking someone else to blow on the embers of our hope and reignite our belief that what we're writing is worth writing.

But here's the thing: our friends, our family, our loved ones, even our fellow writers can't actually deliver on that ask.

They can't tell us anything about the objective quality or worth of what we've written. All they can do is share their experience with it.

I stumbled upon this truth when I was a student. In my undergrad and graduate studies, I was blessed to study under some wonderful professors – people who both encouraged and sharpened my writing. However, that was not always the case.

One history class particularly stands out in my memory. Throughout the semester, our professor took us on a tour through selected postmodern and postcolonial texts. They were challenging books – hard to read and sometimes hard to hear. I'm grateful that I was exposed to them. However, as I sat through lecture and class discussions, I quickly perceived that our prof loved it when we talked about "dialogue" and "constructs" and other similar terms.

Look, I know how to student. (And yes, I did just make "student" a verb.) I quickly realized that if I used our prof's pet terms in my writing, I'd be able to sail through this class. It didn't matter if I agreed with them. Honestly, I don't think it even mattered if I used the terms to mean something different than he did.

Was my work good? Well, it was coherent and reasonably thoughtful. But I can't say I wrote anything that I'm proud of. I gamed the system, telling the professor what he wanted to hear so I could comfortably earn the grades I wanted to receive.

That's why it's important for us writers to consider the assertion I opened with. Is it wrong for us to write in a way that evokes a specific response in our readers? Of course not. What would life be like without stand-up comedians?

What matters is whether or not we're writing truly.

Truth isn't just about what we believe. It also includes how we talk about things and what reactions we inspire.

Moreover, I think it also has to do with what we give our attention to. Some of us are called to make people laugh with goofy lines and silly slapstick. That's a good and true gift. But it's not everyone's gift. And if we try to adopt a method or pursue an effect that doesn't align with who we really are, then we're not being true.

Keep your stick on the ice,

Frank.