“Your voice is clear and believable,” Mark McDevitt said about my essay. “You have a facility for moving between time and place.”

I exhaled in relief at his words, as even the most confident among us did while workshopping our pieces in Mark’s Personal Essay class.

Then I heard the rest of the feedback.

“. . . but the story and timeline are confusing,” Mark continued.

The all-too-familiar and seemingly contradictory feedback (which I’d already heard from readers in the Memoir Incubator) stung and triggered that looming sense I carry that maybe I can’t write this book after all.

My memoir’s intergenerational timeline and back-and-forth between countries, families, languages, and social classes can get unwieldy. The impacts and insights gleaned from living between so many worlds are the story, or at least a key part of it, but it can be challenging to retell in an artful manner. And even harder to read.

So much so that, in my doubt spiral, I nearly glossed over Mark’s initial compliment.

Wrestling my multi-country, multi-generational, annoying-as-hell-to-write story into something readable has made me, according to him and my workshop peers, a “clear and believable” writer.

Because of the challenging story, not in spite of it, I am now more skilled at communicating timeline, place, and movement. Not perfectly yet, but with real skill that can only grow if I continue to pour myself into it.

“Clarity is the baseline of good writing,” my partner reminded me when I recounted the feedback, “it’s worth noting.”

Becoming a clear writer may not be the most romantic part of the craft, but it is essential and will serve me well as I revise my manuscript. Clarity might even be part of my writing voice, and this compliment is tangible progress I can celebrate and double down on as I improve my craft.

As I processed this with Liz Jannuzzi, book inc’s program director, she advised me to start keeping a list of such positive feedback and to refer back to it whenever I need a boost. I would also now advise any workshopping writer to try journaling about the feedback they receive to ensure they are not letting the critique eat the compliment. Who knows? It might even lead to a piece of writing like this one.

Holding on to the compliments may be just as important as accepting constructive criticism. And just as challenging. It requires confidence, gratitude, and the humility to listen to your readers, even when they have good things to say.

Ready to Write Your Own Family Story?

This fall, Michele’s teaching two family history courses that dig into the same questions of memory, voice, and belonging she writes about above.

Writing Family Histories
An in-person, six-week memoir class at PWN’s Maple Ave office in Red Bank, exploring the family stories, cultural memory, and lived experience that shape who we are. Wednesdays, 6:30 to 8:30 p.m. ET, September 16 through October 28 (no class October 21).

Historias de Familia
A Spanish-language version of the course, held virtually over Zoom. Mondays, 6:30 to 8:30 p.m. ET / 3:30 to 5:30 p.m. PT, September 14 through October 19.

Register for either course at pwnwriters.org.