For authors struggling to perfect their craft, feedback is an indispensable tool in the writing and publishing process. The source of that feedback is, however, important — the perspectives and biases of the reviewers can have a meaningful impact on the quality and raft of that critique. But when your personality is based on one identity, selecting the identity (politics, religion, social movement etc.) over every other identity, that feedback can be narrow and restrictive.
On the other side if an author is using a culture in his work he needs to hear any and all feedback regarding the authenticity of that cultures PR from members of that culture, or those who study it. Sometimes research just isn’t enough, and having someone who isn’t your colleague point out something you got wrong now will spare you the embarrassment later. In fact, if you write characters outside of your own culture, you are highly encouraged to find beta readers from a culture you are not a part of, to check your work against the source and assure it is as true as you can make it. The notion of culture and identity seems very similar, but not exactly the same. A cultural member has knowledge about and participates in that culture. Such a person who builds their life around a singular identity turns into that identity. Big difference.
People who identify primarily as one thing often have a narrow, even dogmatic view of themselves that can cloud their judgement when giving balanced feedback. My world view is probably colored by one set of beliefs or experiences, which can create a prejudice in how I judge a manuscript. Someone heavily enmeshed in gender ideology, for example, may review a work primarily through the lens of its adherence or opposition to their views, creating a judgment not of the story, development of character or overall literary quality. Such feedback can distort an author’s perception of the strengths and weaknesses of their writing, concentrating too much on whether it is ideologically on-message as opposed to its craft, pacing, and affecting storytelling.
Lately the author of this post has noticed this when beta-reader feedback highlights a certain section of a manuscript as potentially “problematic” or, in some way, crossing a line by a particular member of an identity. Feedback like this should, most of the time, be immediately thrown in the garbage. This is different from a reviewer who may ask something like, more generally, of something, “Is this excessive? Is this unnecessary?” Pay attention to the language someone uses. Fighting against the overreliance on excessive gore is only something to be wondered about. When a reviewer identifies an opinion, or even something that is historical fact, as something that must be erased, it is a red flag that they see everything through the lens of ideology.”
Always, ask yourself: Would this person ever choose to read this book? This is very analogous to recent controversies around a number of video games and movies. The loudest voices bitching about some aspect of representation are never going to play the game or see the movie and aren’t the target market. They are nothing of note to the success of the item being complained about, and only build the alienation of fans eager for it.
Additionally, the feedback of those focused on a single identity can be too homogenous to produce a well-rounded, universally appealing (yearning) manuscript. Readers are the best lens for revealing your work’s multiple angles and telling you what goods the story can deliver — both best and worst — via Beta Reading. Feedback from those with a narrow world perspective only reinforces the current identity-based group-think promoted by media rather than challenge authors to think critically and creatively about their work.
In this regard, the problem of trigger warnings must also be addressed. Trigger warnings are alerts found at the beginning of a book, chapter, or scene notifying readers to potentially distressing or triggering content. Trigger warnings seek to spare readers potential psychological harm, but their application to literature is a fraught matter. Then the concept of the trigger warning in its current iteration is not without a measure of complexity and controversy — appealing to psychological language but at the same time criticizing it — which makes it hard to amount a straightforward argument about what to do with trigger warnings in literature.
As the author of this article, I believe trigger warnings shouldn’t ever be used beyond the traditional labeling of something as owed to overt sexual matters or graphic violence.
Trigger warnings could infringe upon an author’s creative freedom, and restrict the reader’s engagement with challenging material. Suggested Answer: Some literature might be complex and difficult, yes. Trigger warnings may motivate writers to sanitize their work, make it less authentic, and eliminate writing about certain subjects. Moreover, trigger warnings can reset a reader’s experience with a piece of content before they engage, meaning they go in with expectations that can cloud and lessen the effect of the story.
Trigger warnings must, by their very nature, reference an event or an activity that is subjective and cannot be compared to what others may find triggering, making it almost impossible to apply trigger warnings consistently. What is alarming to one person may be perfectly innocuous to another, and trying to cover every possible trigger makes for an overly timid and watered-down story. This not only undermines the integrity of the work but also places an unfair onus on authors to try and foresee and stifle the myriad sensitivities of the target audience.
An equally important point is that encountering difficult or jarring material in literature is part of the reading experience — a reading experience in which genres of literature engage with depictions of trauma. It enables readers to grapple with and navigate complex feelings, cultivate empathy and an appreciation for alternative perspectives and experiences. By shielding readers from difficult material with trigger warnings, they may be missing these critical opportunities for personal growth and contemplation.
Thus, authors should balance the concerns of writing something safe and catered to their target audience most publishers would demand, with writing something that they feel is artistically true despite what the market may want. It is very limiting feedback coming from it, and in the end books should be able to show all types of human being, not only part of it. Trigger warnings can also subvert the literary process and our engagement as readers with the material, although well-intentioned.
For their part, authors should isolate themselves from audience echo chambers and make sure that they are getting reactions from a wide variety of if not neutral, then at least sufficiently open-minded people who won’t judge their work through a minuscule prism of the thing that they personally find wrong with the world. Be it ever so good, art is limited by the finger pointing at it. This broadens the audience appeal, enabling authors to build more rich and well formed narratives. Literature’s job is to entertain, challenge, provoke, and inspire, and it should not be sacrificed on the altar of someone’s fringe identity fixation or the absurdity of trigger warnings.
