Or, Why I try to run a critique group like a focus group
Have you ever been part of a focus group? Eight to twelve participants are ushered into a conference room to sample and react to a product, or to discuss a topic or issue. A moderator is there to ask questions, gather opinions, and keep the discussion on track.
Behind the moderator is a one-way mirror, reflecting the people in the room and shielding whoever is behind it from view. The hidden observers aren’t secret—the moderator tells the participants they’re back there—but ideally, the participants quickly forget about them.
As a developer of educational materials for publishers, I’ve been behind that one-way mirror more times than I can remember, watching and listening while teachers review classroom materials that are still in an early draft, sharing how they think their students would respond to the materials, and whether they’d consider using them in their own classrooms.
Here are the kinds of things that run through your head while you’re sitting behind the one-way mirror hearing teachers discuss a textbook or web site:
Oh no, I don’t think they get it! Let me explain—wait, I can’t explain. I’m back here, behind the mirror. Someone asked a question. Why didn’t the moderator answer it? Oh right—we’re here to see what people think about the book when there isn’t anyone there to explain it. We’re here to see if they like it even if they don’t know who made it. We’re here to find out if they’d even give it a second glance if no one was paying them to look at it.
Sound familiar? It should.
A critique group is kind of like a focus group. The purpose of both is to gather thoughtful responses to a work in progress, to get a range of reactions, to gather suggestions for making it stronger before you offer it up to potential readers. As a critique group leader, I try to follow the model of a focus group moderator, whose job is to gather unbiased, honest responses from the participants, without explaining the creators’ intent.
Taking a page from focus group moderators
Every focus group I’ve observed has started with the moderator setting ground rules for discussion. These are great ground rules for a critique group discussion:
- speak clearly so everyone can hear you
- only one person talks at a time
- make sure everyone gets a chance to speak
- stay on topic
- be specific about what you like, what you don’t like, and why
- share your opinion, even if you’re the only one in the room who has it
- respect the opinions of others; do not try to make them agree with you
- Understand that we are not here to come to any kind of consensus. We’re here to share reactions and opinions, and yours is as important as anyone else’s. We don’t have to agree—in fact, the discussion can be more helpful if we don’t.
These guidelines provide for a thoughtful, thorough discussion of the work at hand. The creators hear a range of opinions and suggestions from people with a variety of relevant viewpoints.
One thing a focus group moderator says to the group, that I can’t:
- No one in this room made anything you’re looking at tonight, so don’t worry about hurting anyone’s feelings, just give your honest opinion.
In a critique group, this isn’t true. The creator is sitting right there at the table. The risk of hurt feelings runs high, especially for someone whose work is under the microscope for the first time. And yet the need for honest responses is every bit as great. We’re gathered to help someone improve their work, and that can’t happen if we offer only praise. The most effective critiques follow the “sandwich” guideline, which is, “Share what is working well with the manuscript or illustration, then share what needs to be strengthened, and end with something that is working well.” Not only is this important–the creator needs to know what’s good, so he or she keeps doing it–it also helps keep spirits high.
One thing that I say to the work’s creator, that a focus group moderator doesn’t have to:
- You are here to listen. The less you say, the more you will hear.
Why doesn’t the focus group moderator have to say this? Because the people who’d need to hear it can’t join the conversation. They’re behind that one-way mirror, sitting in silence in the dark, watching and listening while total strangers dissect the work of months, chewing their fingernails and gobbling M&M’s (every focus group viewing room I’ve ever visited has bowls of M&M’s candies) and scribbling down panicked questions they wish they’d thought of sooner, that they hope to give to the moderator to ask the group if—and only if—there’s time left for questions at the end of the discussion.
Want to get the most out of your next critique? Pretend you’re behind a one-way mirror.
During a critique, you have the chance to find out how your work stands on its own. You have the opportunity to hear readers analyze a character’s motivations, wonder what will happen next, share how the work makes them feel, and guess at the author’s intentions. The less you say, the fewer questions you ask and answer, the more comments you’ll hear in response to your work—not in response to you.
And if there’s time at the end of the discussion, you can still ask your questions—or maybe even answer a few.
What approach do you think works best for giving and receiving a critique? Join the conversation in the comments section. Dissent welcome!