What Reader Complaints Mean to Me
Posted on 10 February 2008
Fielding complaints is just part of the writer’s job — deflecting the anger and keeping the useful bits. I have made my living writing or editing for newspapers, magazines, universities, or corporations since 1985. I’m currently working on a novel, too. I’m a careful writer but I’m also part of a team, and mistakes can crop up anywhere from the typing to the delivery of the finished product.
And it’s my name on that story.
Whoever is in front of an angry reader will get blistered ears, particularly the writer. And I’m no doormat. I have quietly hung up on people after politely telling them to please call back when they have better control of their emotions and their vocabulary. And I’ve taken stewing people to a private meeting room so they can yell in quasi-privacy instead of at my cubicle. But mostly I’ve just listened without interrupting or justifying. That’s usually enough.
Want some specifics? Never let it be said that readers don’t notice the details. Here are a few stories from my journalism days:
Case #1: The Dotty Bride. A furious bride-to-be and her equally furious mother stood white-lipped and QUIVERING beside my computer, livid about an engagement photo … which, um, they provided, and which I used. The problem? Another bride from that same small town had worn the same polka-dotted dress in her photo and we placed the announcements fairly close together on the page. People would think she was just COPYING that other girl! She could just DIE from embarrassment! They tag-teamed me with a long and winding story about the travails of finding a nice dress in a small town with just one nice dress shop, the sneakiness of other brides, and the clear incompetence of journalists in general and my newspaper in particular.
*sigh* At the time, we used a wax paste-up system to place text and pictures on the page before we burned a metal plate to print the page. Photos were pasted in beside the write-ups late in the production process; no one noticed the dotty girls … or thought anyone would have such a conniption about it.
Case #2: Bad Schooling. Someone at my office typed in a wedding announcement based on a completed form, accidentally inserting an “a” in front of the high school name. Here came another screeching bride, angry that people would think she went to the public county high school when she actually went to the private school of a very similar name. (Or vice versa … I don’t recall the details.) The nerve of me! Her entire family subscribed to the paper and had been readers for TWENTY-ONE YEARS. She stomped her foot. She shook her purse. Did I know anything about journalism? Did I care about my readers? Was I a COMPLETE idiot? (No ma’am. Not a complete one. Partial, of course — sure.)
Case #3: A Comma Complaint. Another furious reader lodged a rant-filled complaint against one of my co-workers. Seems that a cutline beneath a photo listed Mr. Ranter and the Ex-Mrs.-Ranter, and the typesetter had the blooming nerve to omit a comma between their names … clearly implying to our newspaper’s entire readership that they were STILL TOGETHER. The nerve! The stupidity! The maliciousness! Who was it who put us up to this? Oh, yes, he assured us, he was nobody’s fool — he was astute enough to know that it was deliberate, with malice aforethought. (Note: Actually it was Associated Press style at the time — no serial commas.)
Dude called the writer, the section editor, the managing editor, the editor, and the publisher to demand a retraction. (We began to understand why the couple were no longer together.)
What It Means to Me
Some of the people who read your work are going to have different opinions, some are mentally imbalanced, some are going to be careless readers, and some are going to read into the tiniest minutia of your story the wackiest things that you did not intend. Other than being a careful writer and a responsible, caring person who fixes errors promptly, there’s just nothing you can do. That is, beyond wiping the ranter’s spittle from your face (metaphorically speaking) and saying, “I’m sorry this has been such a bad experience for you.”
Losing your temper too doesn’t help the other person cool down, doesn’t help your reputation (and you’d better believe they’ll share the story if you bridle at their criticism), and doesn’t give you the secret smug satisfaction of keeping cool under severe provocation. I got annoyed back at a person or two early in my career and quickly learned that at least one of us had to act like the grownup.
Besides …
Readers are going to see what they want (or fear) to see. And buddy, do they ever care about the precision of your writing when it touches their lives directly. I think that applies for fiction readers as well as newspaper readers. I recall being so bitterly disappointed with one magnificent author’s dismal second book that I tore it into pieces and threw it away instead of selling or giving it away like I did most of my other paperbacks because I didn’t want anyone else to have to read it. And then I wrote him to tell him so. (Oh, the shame.)
I’ve actually written to a couple of authors when in that frame of mind, saying how much I loved the rest of their work and how much I disliked their latest book. Both were kind enough to write back courteously, keeping me as a lifelong reader (and putting a bit of a blush on my face for my own cheekiness):
- One had a funny story about a former teacher — a disappointed reader who actually returned that book to him, saying she’d rather have two copies of his first book.
- The other author said he was sorry I was so disappointed about the turn this series was taking, and he explained what he’d been shooting for. I got a glimpse into the writing mind of a favorite author — a courtesy he really didn’t owe me at all — and I understood the arc of the series much better.
Those are pros. And I’ve admired them ever since.
Here’s what I take away from these experiences: Getting negative feedback is no picnic. Maybe the person is just flat wrong, or maybe the person is right but is still being a jerk. Try to listen with your emotions disengaged, and remember: That’s a reader who is totally engaged, who knows that your words have impact, and who believes you are receptive enough to consider his point. It’s a hurt and pissed-off reader, but one loyal enough to do more than just delete your name from his must-read list.
P.S. You begin to understand why I’ve got a veeeery thick skin when it comes to writing, don’t you!
[tags]angry readers, negative feedback, complaints[/tags]
2 responses to What Reader Complaints Mean to Me
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These are some great stories! And yes, I can understand how you develop a thick skin. It’s a good reminder to all of us writers – even blog writers – that our words (and commas) are important. We have to try our best not to make mistakes, and maintain our grace when we do.
Thanks, Anne! I’ve often thought that my years in newspapers, coupled with being a mom, have been what finally turned me into a grownup.
)
My next journalism war stories post will be about the things I’ve listened to with a straight face — including a man whose wife was rubbing butter on their kids while praying over them, another who saw Bigfoot, and a toothless old man with a sexy name. I do miss some things about the old newspaper world!