Feedback: the dread of every single writer who has ever lived. Just saying the word in my mind I feel sorry for all the embryos on their way to becoming human-beings, then children, then, finally, disconcerted-by-society adults, and then writers. Little do they know how valuable and crucially important feedback will be to their craft (not that that should be an embryos first priority, of course. Best to grow some limbs and organs first).

The truth is, most writers don’t fear feedback by the way of comments—though it’s hardly anything to look forward to after slaving for months on a novel–—but the way in which the comments will inevitably be given. It’s a nasty vicious circle! Most people, you see, don’t have the first clue of how to give feedback so the writer can interpret it correctly. The best-case scenario is feedback with some helpful comment, pointing at precisely the cause of the problem. The worst is receiving feedback given so late after a read—months afterwards—that not only does the feedback make little sense, time has rendered the points behind it indeterminable and incoherent.

A good example of how communication affects writers in a broader scope, in business terms, is copy-writing. Copy-writers, if your cave doesn’t receive RSS feeds, is the name given to writing any kind of commercial content. Web-sites, newsletters etc. It is the copy-writers job to take the raw-information given by the client and transform it into captivating text about botox cheshire or some equily dull thing. It has to read amazingly, as well as carrying the company image—all while transmitting the reputation. Poor feedback is the death of the copy-writing project. Unless it is concise, and accurately translates the problem the client has with the writing, the re-write will also be flawed. So you could say that feedback is the heart of good writing, in literature or otherwise.