E.S. Raye

After finally getting notes back from a publisher on a short story that looks like it might see the light of day, I’ve been busily working to bring it up to snuff. And it occurs to me that this may be a good topic for a blog. Specifically, dealing with a gatekeeper of some sort who wants you to make changes to your story before it’s released to a wider audience.

In this case, it’s a short short story, at only 1,000 words. Yet the feedback I was given has multiple suggestions and edits on every page.

This can be daunting and frustrating. It can feel like the person making the suggestions just doesn’t understand you, your writing, or the story you’re trying to tell.

Lucky for me, the things this publisher has suggested are strictly additive; I haven’t been asked to remove plot elements or even change anything substantially; only to add in more detail in a few key places. And honestly, I think it all makes the story much better.

So, for the purpose of this blog, I’ll tell you about the time I got feedback from my producer/director for my horror screenplay Uncanny Valley.

Uncanny, at his heart, is a creature-feature, inspired largely by John Carpenter’s The Thing. The story revolves around the key element of distrust. I had a group of characters, isolated on a far away island, facing a creature that makes them question who around them they can trust.

I spend days agonizing over the monster. What should it be? How can it sow this necessary distrust? How can it infiltrate the group without being discovered? I settled on a parasite of sorts, albeit one with a sort of hive mind.

I had solved all these problems and more and was very proud of what I had created.

And then I got the feedback.

There was a lot they wanted changed, from the page count (which was admittedly long, but I had been praised for the tight pacing), to the occupations of the characters, and ultimately, and most difficult for me and my emotions, they wanted the monster changed from the ground up.

I was angry.

How dare they make these suggestions so flippantly?! How could they just shrug off the thought and work that had gone into creating such a perfect creature for the theme and story I had concocted?!

I was mad for days. It made it hard to look at either the suggested changes or the screenplay itself. I questioned if screenwriting was even something I wanted to do if I was going to have to give up this much control. This would never happen, I told myself naively and smugly, with writing a novel.

So, I stewed.

But then I started to think about not only the suggestions my producer/director had made, but the source of those suggestions itself.

My producer/director has way more experience in filmmaking than I do. They go to festivals and premiers and hobnob with the best young filmmakers around the world. And horror is their specialty.

I mean, I’ve seen a lot of mainstream horror movies. But it pales in comparison to the number of independent horror shorts and features they’ve seen at festivals like TiFF and Cannes.

Finally, it dawned on me. They are far more of an expert than I am, and even though I may not like or agree with all the changes they want, ultimately, their goal is the same as mine: To get Uncanny Valley made and get it in front of as many eyes as they possibly can.

It was at that point I finally relented and learned a valuable lesson: criticism is hard, especially if it’s of something you’ve poured your heart into. But, be it a producer or a publisher, most of the time the suggestions they make are in an effort to help you succeed. And they should be taken as such. What’s more, when you succeed, they succeed.

And, of course, when it comes right down to it, if you don’t like the suggestions that are being made, don’t use them. But if you choose that route, be prepared to find another place to showcase your work.

So I guess in the end, my advice for taking criticism and suggested edits or changes to your work with a little humility. If you’re getting this feedback from someone higher in the food chain than you, it’s very likely they know what they’re talking about, and they’re just trying to help you produce the best art you can so more people can see it and appreciate it for the time and effort you put into it.