On feedback

🇵🇹 Pode encontrar este artigo em português no portal KMOL.

“Oops, I did it again”, it’s a chorus that applies to me. Without noticing and I’m in the middle of yet another tricky project. It’s not that I design them to be that way or that I want tricky projects. It is simply because their quirkiness results from whatever elements I feel the need to introduce for the project to achieve its purpose.

It was the case of GRAV, a platform for victims of gender violence. It was the case of the Social Now conference with a format that took more than one sentence to explain. The same applies to The Intranet Hub, which offers value far beyond 'just' accessing screenshots.

The challenge? When I'm working on something unconventional, and although it seems totally obvious and clear in my mind, it may get difficult to communicate it in such a way that it is also clear to others.

After months of pouring passion, time, and energy into a project, I become blind to its flaws. The gaps in logic, the unclear explanations, even the simple typos... They all become invisible to me. This is exactly why I crave honest feedback, even when it stings.

Beyond the praise

Don't get me wrong! I enjoy hearing good things about my work. But only if they're genuine. What I really want is for people to tell me what's wrong with it. How do others perceive it? What challenges will it face? This kind of feedback is what actually helps me improve the idea, communicate it better, and build something more successful.

In our world of likes and quick reactions, this genuine feedback has become rare. I know many of the likes on my posts come from people who are simply being kind. They like my work and want to show support. But sometimes they didn't actually read the article. There's nothing wrong with this kindness, but it's not the same as feedback.

Real feedback requires something most people don't have: time. And not just time to consume the content, but time to think about it, process it, and articulate a thoughtful response.

My feedback

Let’s take book reviews. They are a kind of feedback, after all.

I've been writing book reviews since 2001: 122 book reviews and counting. I read every single page because I don't think it's fair to give an opinion (which may ultimately influence someone’s perception) without reading through the whole book.

This same principle applies when I give feedback to others. If someone shares a draft seeking my input, I read every word and provide detailed written feedback. It might not always be pleasant to read, but it comes from a genuine desire to help.

Some years ago, a peer asked me to review a draft of a book he was co-writing. I gave extensive feedback, pointing out where different authors' voices clashed and questioning whether one entire chapter was necessary. He didn't take all my suggestions, but he did streamline the writing and eliminated that chapter.

It affects me

The feedback that affects me most deeply is the kind that completely challenges work I've been doing for years or questions things I'm particularly proud of. I'll admit it: I sulk. Physically sulk. But later, I pick myself up, reflect on what I was told, and extract what I can use to improve.

When I first had the idea to create a fictional blog for one of Cablinc's characters to narrate work life at the fictional company created for Social Now, I discussed it with an array of people. Most said it was a waste of time, that nobody would read it.

I was not totally convinced, as I thought there was more to the idea than what I was being able to convey. I went ahead but I reframed my expectations and I changed the main purpose for the blog. That also meant, deciding to invest a lot less time than I originally anticipated.

I am happy that I went for it. I am also very thankful for their feedback as I would have regretted investing more than I did.

Even the small things

When someone emails me about a typo in one of my posts, it makes my day. They read my work carefully enough to notice, and they know me well enough to realise I'll be grateful for the chance to fix that typo.

But giving honest, detailed feedback is also one of the kindest things you can do for someone's professional development. It says: "I respect you enough to engage seriously with your work, and I believe you're strong enough to handle my honest thoughts."

Takes courage?

Asking for feedback can be seen as an act of humility. In a world that mostly rewards certainty and confidence, this admission might take courage.

I do not see it like that. For me, asking for feedback is… normal. I do not lack confidence in my knowledge nor in my work, yet I’m always asking for feedback.

Just last week I was recording a video interview which will be used for training purposes. After the first part, I asked my interviewer for feedback. She only had words of praise and yet, even I could see there were things to improve.

I'm a grown-up. If you don't like something I've said, done, or am thinking of doing, please tell me. I may not agree, I may choose not to act on it, but I'll always consider it. And I'll always thank you for it, if for no other reason than because you found my work worthy of your time and attention.

When someone gives me substantive feedback, they're not just offering their own view: they're investing their mental energy in my work.

I do not appreciate criticism without substance nor feedback given without the intent to help. But I 100% value and thank genuine feedback: whether it's pointing out a flaw in my thinking or catching a typo in a blog post.

People who give thoughtful feedback value receiving it too. We commit to offering it because we've experienced the value of receiving it ourselves.