First, my bona fides. I’ve been in a classroom either as a teacher or a student for the greater part of 23 years. I’m a professional writer now (with 18 produced films) and a teacher. This is just to tell you that I’ve seen my share of critiques, story meetings and spitballing sessions under many different circumstances.
My students occasionally run into problems with what is being said in class. Some are confused, some are devastated - some occasionally just give up. Although I typically don’t censor what’s being said, I also don’t allow anyone to be an idiot when they’re making comments so all in all it’s a pretty constructive session.
But it doesn’t matter how thick your skin, negative comments, even ones that are surrounded by sloppy kisses, sting. We all want our work to work; I don’t know anyone who isn’t a bit chafed by the fact that people don’t see the same value we do in our screenplays or novels.
Here’s a couple observations based on years of experience. Take them for what they’re worth (but don’t critique me or I’ll just perish.) :-)
1) No matter how rough any classroom critique can get, it’s nothing to what you’ll get in Hollywood. Either they’ll (producers, directors, etc.) arbitrarily tell you to change things and you have to do it without any input - which actually isn’t bad since that probably means they bought something from you - or they’ll do the ultimate of disrespecting you which is to ignore you and not comment about your work because they’re not going to buy your script. Trust me, that’s a lot rougher than hearing your narrative needs to be smoother or your punctuation is wrong.
2) Sometimes people in classes don’t read your work carefully. Hard to believe, isn’t it? You’ve slaved over a hot keyboard for hours, tweaked things just right, and here’s Joe Wanna-Be sitting in class reading your work just minutes before he’s going to critique
it. Oh, yeah - I see it all the time. If any student thinks he or she is fooling us when we can clearly see someone scanning a work on their desk then they are deluded. So don’t take it so seriously - sometimes Joe is just focusing on a point in your work to avoid our (the teacher’s) scrutiny.
News Flash - producers don’t read your work carefully either so you should probably thank Joe for giving you a real life experience. I once sat next to a producer on a plane who had five scripts he was “reading.” He literally went through each page as if it was a photo instead of text. He treated the material like it was a flip book that had to ruffled as quickly as possible to get the effect of the little man running. When I mentioned this to him - in nice terms of course - he deflected and said he had already read the material once. Sure. And the check’s in the mail.
3) People don’t always say what they mean or mean what they say. A lot of things get said in a critique group. Some are well-thought out, some are spur of the moment as the critique goes on. That’s one thing.
I’ve also heard statements like this before: “I don’t like your character.” What they probably mean instead is “I don’t understand your character” or “I’m not engaged by your character.” It’s a classic sociological phenomenon - we dislike or are disinterested by what we fear or don’t understand. Once someone understands something they are more likely to at least accept it - in general, okay? Don’t start jumping up and down and telling me how little I know about sociology - I’m just making a small point. Characters 
can be unlikable but understandable (or intriguing) and you will follow and accept them (think “Dexter” or the family in “The Godfather” or even Tony Soprano.) So listen to what people are saying but don’t always take their comments at face value. Try to understand the underlying reasons they are saying what they’re saying about your work and it will make more sense. Don’t, however, rationalize the negative comments. That gets you nowhere.
Another example: If I tell you, in a critique, that your work is boring, I can mean several things. Pacing is a result of many, many factors including structure, scene structure/length, dialogue, use of cliche moments, etc.
For instance, we’re usually told not to do monologues. There’s a good reason for that - 
they’re bor-ing. But if you’ve ever seen the closing statement Paul Newman makes in “The Verdict” written by David Mamet, then you’re seeing a brilliant exception to that rule. Even on paper, without Mr. Newman’s astounding skills as an actor, that speech is incredible. It truly rivets you to your seat. Most of us couldn’t write and deliver a monologue like that and make it work if it was a naked Angelina Jolie speaking our prose so sticking some like that in is sure to get the dreaded - this is boring. Or at best, too long, cut this.
4) Sometimes a simple thing is all that’s wrong but people are not focusing on a simple fix - they’re making you feel like your whole work sucks. The best critiques are those that mention a problem and also offer a solution that gets your mind working. But not everyone can offer that fix; sometimes all they can give you is the problem. This is typical in any critique group.
So what do you do? You listen, nod and think about how to address the problem without tearing your entire work apart.
For example, you can act tangentially on a problem instead of directly. I’ve seen a script saved by simply putting a scroll or voice over in the beginning. Just framing the story can make everything click into place. Imagine “Star Wars” without the famous disappearing scroll? Or perhaps “Blade Runner” without the voice over narration. Or “Transformers” without the opening framing that occurs to set the story about why trucks are turning into robots.
When someone in class says “I’m confused by your story” think in terms of setting some framing in place at certain points, like the beginning - this is a simple fix that has major repercussions.
Character issues? One moment or sequence is sometimes all that’s necessary to fix that. Think about how much less likable the Billy Bob Thornton character in “Bad Santa”
would have been without the bar scene where we get the sense that he is dealing with deep, emotional pain.
I’ll try to update this list in the near future. In the meantime, think about what people are saying and get a total picture before you start slashing your script (or your wrists.)
Do good work.
Mark
Mark Sevi is a professional writer who teaches through the Irvine Valley College Continuing Education department.
