Feedback as a Practice
Using reflection to communicate with intention
Learning How to Look
Last week, I asked Wiggins to review how I write in my day‑to‑day work.
I didn’t expect much to come out of it. I didn’t think I had a writing style beyond “not very good.” My internal model was simple. Sometimes the idea landed. Sometimes it didn’t. Any lack of clarity felt like a personal shortcoming rather than something I could work with.
What surprised me was realizing that I do have patterns. Consistent ones. Some of them are strengths. Some of them are habits that get in my way. Seeing that distinction mattered.
The exercise wasn’t helpful because of any specific feedback. I’m intentionally not sharing that. What mattered was the process. Sitting with observations, noticing what resonated and what didn’t, and deciding deliberately what I wanted to take forward.
That last part turned out to be the most important.
I wasn’t being handed a list of fixes. I wasn’t being told who I am as a writer. I was given a chance to look at my own work with a bit more distance and a bit more care. That made it possible to see how small choices affect how a reader experiences a piece.
Where I move too quickly.
Where I assume context.
Where a sentence works perfectly for me but leaves someone else behind.
I won’t change how I write overnight. I won’t adopt a checklist or a new voice. What will change is how I read my own work. I’ll start noticing things while drafting, not after. I’ll see where a thought needs one more beat to land, or where a transition needs to be explicit instead of implied.
What struck me most is how small the changes can be. A sentence reordered. A paragraph given a clearer opening. A pause where I would normally rush past. Those changes make a difference to readers, but they also make a difference to me. They help my thinking feel more aligned with what I intended to say.
That alignment matters.
This keeps coming back to something I care deeply about. Communication is not just about getting words out. It’s about making sure the thing that arrives is the thing I meant to send. Clarity is not polish. It’s respect for the reader, and for the idea itself.
I’m open to the growth because it doesn’t ask me to become a different writer. It asks me to be more intentional about the one I already am.
For me, this isn’t about improving my writing in the abstract. It’s about making sure I’m communicating what I actually want to communicate. And learning how to look at my own work clearly enough to make that possible.
That feels like a practice worth keeping.
Alison + Wiggins