But what happens when the tables are turned? What happens when you are the one sitting in the hot seat?

Taking feedback is incredibly difficult. Our words and our stories are, in a way, our children. They are our creations, and we love them fiercely. Because of that emotional attachment, our immediate reaction to criticism is often to protect our work.

But if we want to grow, we have to learn how to step back, remain objective, and avoid getting tangled up in our own emotions.

Here are some essential tips for receiving feedback with grace and making the best use of it.

1. Maintain emotional distance (and remember to breathe)

When you hear a piece of feedback you don’t like, your body might react before your brain does. You might feel a sudden flush of heat, a tightening in your chest, or a wall of resistance coming up.

When that happens, simply take a deep breath into that resistance and release it. Remind yourself of a fundamental truth: you do not have to use any of their advice. They are readers offering their perspective, not ultimate authorities dictating the fate of your manuscript.

Just as you should give advice with a spirit of openness, you must receive it with that same spirit.

Know that the critiquer has your best interests in mind. They are not saying these things to hurt you. They are trying to help you bridge the gap between what’s in your head and what is actually on the page.

2. Take everything with a grain of salt (and check their credentials)

Not all feedback is created equal, and not every reader is the right reader for your work. You must evaluate whether the person critiquing your work is actually qualified to do so.

For instance, if you have a poet who has never written or critiqued prose, they might not be the best choice to review your novel. Vice versa, a prose writer who rarely reads poetry is likely not qualified to give you technical advice on your stanza structure. Value their perspective as a general reader but take their genre-specific advice with a grain of salt.

Years ago, I asked my poetry mentor to review the first chapter of my memoir. I took the advice she gave me, revised my chapter and sent it off to a contest that offered feedback. They eviscerated my chapter. It turned out the advice my poetry mentor gave me was all wrong for a memoir. I was a young writer who didn’t know any better, but I learned a valuable lesson from that experience. Make sure your critique is qualified in your genre!

3. The 24-hour rule

One of the best pieces of advice from veteran authors is to let feedback “marinate.” When you receive a critique, read it, say thank you, and then put it away for at least 24 hours.

Do not immediately start deleting chapters or defending your choices. Give your ego a day to calm down. Once the initial sting wears off, you will be able to look at the notes much more objectively and see the value hidden within them.

4. Triage the advice with three questions

Instead of adopting every suggestion, look at the advice on a case-by-case basis. Put your work through a filter by asking yourself these three questions:

• Will the change they are suggesting actually make my story or poem stronger?
• Does it match the core intent of my creative work?
• Does the feedback feel valid? Does it resonate with my gut?

If the answer is no, discard the note. If the answer is yes, get to work.

5. Learn from your missteps

It is entirely possible to accidentally ruin a piece of writing by blindly following the wrong advice—remember my experience with my poetry mentor.

I had to go back and undo the damage. I learned a hard lesson from that experience, and I have NEVER repeated that mistake again.

6. Ask clarifying questions, not defending questions

When someone gives you a critique, your instinct might be to explain why you wrote it that way. Resist this urge. If you have to explain the story to the reader, the story isn’t doing its job on the page.

Instead of defending, ask clarifying questions. If a reader says, “The pacing feels slow,” ask them, “Can you point to the specific paragraph or scene where you started to lose interest?” This turns vague criticism into actionable data.

Closing Thought

Receiving feedback is a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it gets, and the less it hurts to flex it. Keep your mind open, keep your ego in check, and remember that at the end of the day, you are the author. The final say always belongs to you.

What have you learned from giving and receiving writing feedback? Please share in the comments!

Because we know how vulnerable this process is, we often fear critique groups. We worry we will be ripped apart, or that we will unwittingly discourage someone else. But constructive feedback is the fuel that makes us grow. Without outside eyes, we are blind to our own habits, plot holes, and stylistic stumbles.

Over the years, I have learned that giving good feedback is its own art form. It is not just about having a critical eye—it is about communication, psychology, and respect.

In this two-part series, we are going to master both sides of the coin. Today, we focus on Part 1: How to deliver feedback to other writers that empowers them, rather than puts them on the defensive.

Here are the guiding principles I use every time I read someone else’s work.

1. Build a bridge before you cross it

If you walk into a critique and are immediately blunt and harsh with your thoughts, peoples’ walls will go up. They won’t hear what you have to say, regardless of how accurate your points are. You will have put them into “defensive mode,” and once that happens, the workshop process is over.

To avoid this, I always like to start my feedback—whether it’s on a single poem or pages of prose—with what I liked about their writing.

This isn’t just about flattery, it’s about establishing trust. By showing them that you recognize their strengths, you prove that you are an ally, not an adversary.

2. The language of curiosity: use soft, open-ended phrases

Words have power. How you frame a correction can change how the author internalizes it.

Instead of saying, “This dialogue is unrealistic,” or “You need to cut this whole scene,” I use language that invites the writer to think, rather than defend.

When I give feedback about what might be changed or improved, I always use phrases like:

• “You might consider looking at…”
• “Maybe consider this…”
• “I wonder if this character would actually…”

These are open-ended phrases. They shift the dynamic from a “correcting teacher” to a “curious reader.” It allows the author to become curious about their own work instead of defensive about their choices.

3. Shift from “you” statements to “I” statements

According to many communication experts and veteran workshop leaders, one of the most effective techniques is focusing on your subjective experience as a reader rather than making objective claims about the quality of the writing.

Instead of saying “You wrote this awkwardly,” try saying, “I got a bit lost in this sentence.“

The former is an attack on the writer’s skill, the latter is a report of your experience reading it. An author cannot argue with your subjective experience. It opens a dialogue: “Oh, you got lost? Okay, let me look at why that sentence might be confusing.”

4. Respect the author’s vision

This is perhaps the most crucial point, and I learned it from a frustrating personal experience.

I was working on a novel where I had originally planned for the main character to be a medical doctor. Eventually, I realized that making her a veterinarian fit the story and her character arc much better, so I changed it.

When I brought pages to a workshop, my poetry teacher made a comment that she liked the beginning of my novel better when the character was a medical doctor. Why? Because she was “not an animal person” and so she didn’t like the new version as much.

This type of feedback is ridiculously off-point.

When you are giving feedback, you must distinguish between your personal preferences and what is actually happening in the text. Your job is not to rewrite their story into a story you would want to tell. Your job is to help them write their story as well as they possibly can.

You must not infringe on the author’s creativity or their intentions for their piece. If they want to write a sci-fi epic, you don’t critique them for not writing a romance. You judge the work based on what it is trying to be.

5. The golden disclaimer

Finally, I always like to give the power back to the author with a simple disclaimer.

Before I present my notes, I always preface my comments with something like: “This is just one reader’s opinion. Please take or leave whatever you want. It’s ultimately your story, but these are some ideas I had while reading.”

This reminds the writer that they are in the driver’s seat. It lowers their anxiety because they know they aren’t obligated to take your advice. Ironically, this often makes them more receptive to hearing it.

Closing thought

Giving good feedback takes practice. It requires empathy and careful thought. But when you master the art of the critique, you not only help your writing peers, you also train your own “internal editor” to look at your own work more objectively.

Stay tuned for Part 2, where we turn the tables and look at how to graciously (and productively) receive feedback on your own work!

But how do you actually put that into practice? How do you move from a philosophy to a platform without losing your soul in the process?

Here is how I’ve been “dressing” my digital space to match the magic I’m writing about.

Claiming your space: the naming strategy

When I decided to lean into the “stars and soil” vibe, I realized my handles needed to reflect that same blend of grounded reality and celestial imagination.

I transitioned to @CarolDespeauxWrites and @CarolInkSlinger. Why? Because it’s direct, personal, and hints at the craft. It doesn’t feel like a business I’m running. It feels like a name I’m living. If you’re struggling with your handles, ask yourself: Does this sound like a company, or does it sound like a creator?

Creating visual “vibes” instead of just graphics

During my recent experience with #Questpit, I had to create an “Agent’s Guide”—a visual grid for my book. I could have used stock photos of generic “magic,” but I chose the “soil” of my own life instead.

I used the photo my son took of our local Olympic mountains and water. By using something personal, I’m not just making a graphic, I’m sharing a piece of my world. In Canva, I try to keep my colors consistent with those moody, natural tones that match my urban fantasy WIP.

Practical tip: Pick three colors that represent your “soil” (the grounded parts of your life) and two that represent your “stars” (the magic). Use them consistently across your blog and social media so your audience begins to recognize your “vibe” before they even read a word.

Sharing the magic, not the “product”

The biggest hurdle for the “invisible writer” is the fear of being salesy. My secret? Stop trying to sell a book and start sharing the magic.

Instead of posting “Buy my book” or “Here is my query,” I share:

• Moments of “daily magic” I find in my life whether I’m walking in nature or playing with my grandsons.
• Behind-the-scenes snippets of my protagonist’s energy-working roots.
• The raw “soil” moments of my recovery and how they fuel my writing.

When you share your process and your authentic self, the “marketing” happens naturally. You aren’t forcing a product on people, you’re inviting them into a world you’ve already built.

Final thoughts

Branding isn’t about being perfect—I’m far from perfect—but it’s about being present. It’s about taking the “stars” of your imagination and planting them firmly in the “soil” of your daily life.

It feels good to finally take off the costume. I hope you’ll join me in doing the same.

Exercises:

1. Have you experimented with your own “visual vibes” lately? Write down 3 to 5 colors that vibe with your WIP or who you are in your life.
2. Make a list of who you are, your interests, hobbies, what you’re passionate about.
3. Make a list of the areas in your life that intersect with or influence your WIP.
4. Make a list of some post ideas where these two intersect.

I’d love to see one thing you’ve come up with—drop a link or a comment below.

But then we finish a manuscript and realize the industry has changed. The word “platform” starts appearing in every query guide and agent blog. Suddenly, we’re told we need to be marketers, influencers, and “brands.”

For a long time, that felt like being asked to put on a costume that didn’t fit. I didn’t want to be “salesy.” I didn’t want to shout into the void of social media. But I’ve recently realized that branding doesn’t have to be a mask—it can be a mirror.

Why I chose my name over a company name

When I first started thinking about my online presence, my instinct was to hide behind a business name. It felt safer, more professional, and less… vulnerable. But as a Life Transition Coach for over 20 years, I know that people don’t connect with logos—they connect with souls.

I decided to lead with Carol Despeaux Fawcett rather than a generic company title because my writing is deeply personal. If I want readers to trust me with their time and emotions, I have to show up as myself—”Gaga” to my two precious grandsons, poet, Airbnb hostess, entrepreneur, and recovering “divine janitor” included.

Finding your “stars and soil”

The breakthrough for me came when I stopped trying to look like a “professional author” and started looking at what I actually loved. For my book, and for my life, that theme is “stars and soil.” It’s the intersection of the celestial and the grounded.

But it’s also something more: It’s a recognition that magic is actually real.

We often think of magic as something confined to the pages of an urban fantasy novel or a supernatural movie. We relegate it to the “stars.” But I’ve learned that magic isn’t just “made up” fantasy. It is woven into the very “soil” of our daily lives. Whether it’s the way a garden heals a broken heart or the synchronous moment a story idea clicks during a walk, we can create magic every day if we’re simply open to it. Once I leaned into that truth, the branding stopped feeling like a costume and started feeling like home.

The power of authenticity over “aesthetic”

I used a gorgeous photo my son took of the local mountains and water as a background for a recent pitch event. It wasn’t just a graphic—it was a vibe. Because it came from our life, it carried a weight and a personal history that a stock photo never could.

This authenticity goes deeper than just photography. For many years, I ran a part-time energy medicine practice where the “miraculous” was a recurring part of my work week. While I’ve moved on from that business, I haven’t moved on from the energy itself. I still lean into that “knowing” every single day.

I’ve realized that I don’t have to keep my past as an energy worker in one box and my future as an author in another. In my current manuscript, my protagonist navigates the world in much the same way I do—tuning into the unseen and trusting the magic that lives just beneath the surface.

When you build your brand out of the magic you find in your actual life—your own history, your specific interests, your unique “vibe”—you don’t have to “try” to be consistent. You don’t have to worry about staying “on brand.” You just have to be you. You are bringing the real parts of yourself into your stories, and now, into your marketing.

Journal prompts for finding your authentic brand

Before I share the practical “how-to” in the next post, take a moment to look at your own creative landscape. Grab a notebook and ask yourself these three questions:

1. What is your “recurring miracle”? Think about your life outside of writing—like my experience with energy medicine. What is a specific skill, interest, or “knowing” you have that naturally finds its way into your characters or your world-building?
2. If your manuscript were a photo, what would be in the frame? Forget stock images for a second. If you had to represent your story using only things from your own backyard, your own bookshelves, or your own history, what would they be? This is your “soil.”
3. Where are you still hiding behind a “costume”? Look at your current social media or website. Does it feel like a professional mask you’re putting on, or does it feel like a window into who you are? What is one “safe” business choice you’re ready to trade for an “authentic” human choice?

I’d love to hear below any “juice” or ideas you get from the prompts.

It was productive, sure. But it was also killing the magic.

Over the last few years, I’ve made a conscious, radical shift. I’ve closed the “business” tab and opened the “story” tab. Now, when the world gets loud or the chores pile up, my manuscript is what hums in the background. This mindset switch has changed everything for my consistency.

Making the mindset switch

We are often told to “treat writing like a business.” While that’s great for hitting deadlines, it can make the act of creation feel like just another chore on the list. When your writing is the first thing to get cut during a crisis—like a surgery or a season of caregiving—it’s usually because we’ve categorized it as “work” instead of “life.”

By letting the story run in the background, you aren’t just a writer when you’re at the keyboard. You’re a writer while you’re washing the dishes or taking the dog for a walk.

Tips for dreaming into your story

If you want to reclaim your imagination during the “in-between” moments of your day, try these three practical ways to prime the pump:

• Use the mundane for “world-building”: When you’re doing something mindless like walking or scrubbing a pot, don’t reach for a podcast. Instead, step into your protagonist’s shoes. Ask yourself: Who is she actually attracted to? What does she want out of life that she’s too afraid to admit?
• Paint the past: Use your commute or your physical therapy session to “paint” your character’s history. What was her bedroom like as a child? What is the one memory that still makes her heart race? By the time you get to your desk, she’ll feel like a real person rather than a silhouette on a page.
• The “open loop” technique: Before you stop writing for the day, ask your subconscious a specific question about the next scene. Let that question simmer while you go about your life. You’ll be surprised how often the answer “pops” into your head while you’re doing something completely unrelated.

The result of a primed pump

When you keep the story running in the background, the “blank page” loses its power. You aren’t starting from zero every time you sit down. You’re recording the discoveries you made while you were out living your life.

My life has had plenty of interruptions lately—from rehab to loss—but my story didn’t stop. It just moved to the back burner where it could simmer until it was ready.

Do you struggle with “business brain” taking over your creative space? How do you keep your characters alive when you aren’t at your desk? Let’s chat in the comments.

Today, I’m thrilled to share that the background work has officially moved to the foreground.

I have officially finished the latest version of my manuscript and it’s currently in my editor’s hands for some “big picture” structural help. While she works her magic on the bones of the story, I’m finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. I am getting closer every day to the official querying stage where I start pitching to literary agents.

To celebrate being back and being this close to the finish line, I decided to do something a little different on the last day of January: I jumped into #Questpit.

What is #Questpit?

#Questpit is a quarterly “pitch event” on X (formerly Twitter). Writers create an “Agent’s Guide”—a visual grid of four specific graphics: a title page, a pitch, a list of tropes/comps, and the first page of the manuscript. It’s high-energy, fast-paced, and a total blast for anyone who loves a good “aesthetic.”

Go here to learn more about Quest Pit.

Stepping out of the comfort zone

As a writer, it’s easy to hide behind the prose. But #Questpit forced me to think like a marketer. I had to distill SAVING LUCIFER—a 98,000-word Urban Fantasy—into punchy bullet points and moody imagery.

I used a gorgeous photo my son took of the local mountains and water as my background. It wasn’t just a graphic. It was a vibe. It represented the “stars and soil” theme of my book perfectly.

What I learned

If I could give one piece of advice for the next event in April, it’s this: The pitch starts five days before the post. Here’s what I learned about the “pre-game”:

• Warm up the feed: Start talking about the event early to tell the algorithm you’re active.
• The support list: Start a list of fellow writers you want to boost. In this community, “writer-karma” is real.
• Building connections: Making those connections four to five days out makes the actual event feel like a party with friends.
• Be active and post: My X account is new, so I only have a few followers. But I’ll grow my account by the next event (they have one per quarter).

The road to April

While the agent likes are still trickling in (they often browse the hashtag for days after!), I walked away with something better: Marketing assets. These graphics aren’t just for a one-day event, I can use them for my website, social media, and future queries. Between now and the next event in April, I’ll be:

1. Growing the X feed: Continuing to post and connect with the #WritingCommunity.
2. Polishing the visuals: Experimenting with new backgrounds to make the graphics pop even more.
3. Deepen the roots: Continuing to make connections in the “Book-O-Sphere.”

It feels good to be back. Even if you’re a “Divine Janitor” cleaning up a celestial mess, it’s a lot more fun when you’re doing it with a community.

Join the cleanup crew. Want to see what a “Divine Janitor” actually does? Sign up for my newsletter to get monthly updates on my manuscript’s progress, events, and the first word on when Saving Lucifer hits the shelves. You can join me right here.

As writers, we often feel like if we aren’t putting words on a page, we’re losing our “membership” to the craft. We think if the manuscript isn’t growing, the writer in us must be shrinking.

But I’ve spent the last few years learning that writing isn’t just a verb. It’s a way of seeing.

It’s been a long time since I sat in this digital space with you. Why? Because life happened in the loudest, most physical ways possible.

I spent nearly a decade as the primary caregiver for a dear friend, a journey that recently came to a heartbreaking end with her passing. Amidst the emotional weight of caregiving and grief, my own body decided to join the fray. I took a fall down the stairs that resulted in a torn quad tendon, followed by surgery and months of grueling rehab.

When you’re navigating death, grief, and learning how to walk again, “finding time to write” can feel like a cruel joke. For a long time, my writing was the first thing to be sacrificed. But lately, I’ve found a way back. I’m getting better at staying consistent, even when the world is chaotic.

How to stay “in character” when you can’t get to the keyboard

If you are in a season of interruptions, here is how I’ve learned to keep the pilot light on, so the fire doesn’t go out:

Switch your background apps: I used to have “business” or “to-do lists” running in the back of my mind at all times. Now, I’ve intentionally switched the background app to my story. Even while I’m in physical therapy or sitting in a hospital room, I let my characters walk through their world in my mind. Thinking is writing, too.

The power of the pivot (write small): If a 98,000-word manuscript feels like a mountain you can’t climb today, write a poem, a piece of flash fiction or 100 words of anything. I joined writing teacher Alan Watt’s challenge where you log 100 words a day to help stay consistent. Writing something small allows you to see a finished result immediately. It proves to your brain that you’ve still “got it” without the exhaustion of a marathon session.

Inhale your genre: On the days when the words just won’t come out, let them come in. Reading in your genre before bed keeps your brain attuned to the rhythm and tropes of the world you’re building. It’s “passive research” that pays off when you finally do sit down.

Acknowledge the interruptions: Stop fighting the fact that life is messy. Instead of feeling guilty that you aren’t writing, look at the “interruption” as potential fuel. The grief, the physical pain, the recovery—it’s all texture that will eventually make your prose deeper and more resonant.

My writing used to be the first thing to go. Now, it’s the thing that keeps me going

What’s next?

I have so much more to share with you, including a deep dive into a recent virtual pitch event that changed the way I look at my manuscript. Stay tuned—the words are flowing again.

How do you stay connected to your creative self when life gets in the way? I’d love to hear your “survival tips” in the comments.