The Blessings of Red Ink in Critique Group
In a critique group—where writers submit their writing projects, read, and give comments on each other’s work—ask for what you need.
During a critique group meeting I facilitated, a new writer held her paper draft close to her chest and addressed her five fellow writers at the table. “Please don’t use red ink to correct my story!”
“Um, okay,” I said, and dug out a black pen.
After the critique session ended and the other members left, I asked the writer why she didn’t like red ink.
“It reminds me of mistakes I made on high school English class papers,” she said. “It was so traumatic.”
I respected her request, but her reaction to red ink tweaked my curiosity. I hunted for research articles,[1],[2] interviewed teachers, and contemplated the seasons of life.
I discovered some teachers now use blue or green to correct their student’s papers. I wondered, Does that mean blue and green ink will traumatize future generations?
Teachers’ red scribbles don’t affect all students the same. But according to some research, corrections in red have discouraged or traumatized some students so that even years later they dislike writing.
While that may have sometimes been an unintended consequence, I’m sure this was not most teachers’ motivation, I thought.
I called my friend Pat, a former teacher and head of a high school English department. I said, “What motivates English, literature, and writing teachers?”
Pat rattled off a list. “Hope to share their love for language skills and literature with their students. A strong sense of purpose. Wanting to contribute to society. Caring about their students and their welfare. A love of learning. A love of teaching. Helping students pursue excellence. Wanting to support their pupils. Seeing a student smile who just grasped a concept.”
Given teachers’ motivations, it’s ironic—and sad—that showing students a better way discourages or traumatizes them.
After Pat and I talked, I wondered, should teachers correct a student’s mistakes.
Yes. In the long run, it’s the kindest thing to do.
My sister Sharon taught fourth grade. In a language skills section lesson, she asked her class, “What is a synonym?”
One little girl waved her arm back and forth. “I know! I know!”
Pleased and surprised with her student’s enthusiasm, Sharon said, “Okay, what is a synonym?”
The little girl proudly answered, “That’s what I had on my toast this morning!”
Sharon thought too much of the child and the rest of her class to let them learn something incorrectly. My sister kindly thanked the little girl for raising her hand, then seized the teaching opportunity. “‘Cinnamon,’” said Sharon, “sounds a lot like ‘synonym.’ But they mean different things.” She wrote both words on the board so the class could see and understand the difference between the two words as they learned from an innocent mistake.
Years ago, I heard the expression: “Children are the best observers—and the worst interpreters.”
When we consider whether teachers should make corrections in red ink, we can ask, “Did I, as a child or young adult, receive corrections, comments, and grades on my paper?”
Most of us will answer “Yes.” Then we can ask ourselves, “Did I always interpret the teacher’s intentions accurately?”
“Hmm.” Perhaps not always? Sometimes? Maybe seldom.
We most likely misinterpreted teachers’ corrections if we made negative judgments about our intelligence (“I’m dumb”) or a specific talent or ability (“I’m not good at writing”). Or, maybe we became angry (“The teacher is stupid for not understanding what I meant!”)
But we were children then. Now we’re adults who want to capture and share family stories.
Perhaps we can now see red marks on our earlier writing attempts from our former teachers’ perspectives. Sure, some teachers may have been bona fide jerks. Or perhaps they were having a bad day or a terrible year. But maybe we can better understand that many of them wanted to make a positive difference in the world. Perhaps we share our teachers’ love of literature and ideas, and a love for the world of words. Maybe we can even see their love for their students, and better understand their kindness in showing students a better way.
Maybe we can forgive our teachers for not being perfect. Or understand they were so busy with large classes they couldn’t give each of us each more time, attention, or explanation for each correction.
As we reframe earlier experiences, maybe we can also learn from the pros. Today, many writers and editors review manuscripts digitally. And the default font or border color in some programs for “comments,” “track changes,” and “edit” functions that display on their computer monitors.
Yes, on my computer the default setting is red.
Do you know why?
Editors read a lot. Their eyes get tired. Red corrections are easier to read.
One of my editor friends is much better with commas than I am. However, when she critiqued my work, she used black ink to insert small commas. Very neat commas. I often made four passes through her suggested changes before I (hopefully) spotted them all.
As family historians, we may already belong to a critique group where we entrust others with drafts of their writing. In the critique process, our love for family stories may overflow from our hearts and travel down our arms to our fingers holding a pen. Possibly even a red pen. Or while tapping out suggestions on a keyboard, we may use a computer program that uses red digital highlights.
We intend our pen ink and computer pixels to be constructive as they spill out onto each other’s stories.
Honest, constructive comments can help us edit so the reader can more easily understand what we’ve written. Our family stories and histories may also become more informative, more entertaining, more interesting, more persuasive, more compelling, more lasting, more memorable
As a writer, you may not want your family stories critiqued in red ink. If that’s the case, please say so. I, and most of your fellow writers, will honor your request as we give our best to help you hone your craft of writing.
But, if possible, I prefer others use red ink as they critique the family stories I submit for review. I want to be able to see and consider each suggestion for improvement.
- Which color ink do you prefer people use as they read and provide comments and suggestions for improvements to your manuscript?
- If red ink observations have buffaloed you in the past, can you reframe the experience and consider how most comments are gifts flowing directly from the critiquer’s heart?
[1] Bob Yirka, “Study shows red pen used by instructors leads to more negative response,” Phys.org, https://phys.org/news/2013-01-red-pen-instructors-negative-response.html
[2] Steve Robson, “Teachers shouldn’t use red coloured pens to mark homework ‘because it’s like shouting and upsets pupils,’” 17 Jan 2013, published 8:13 EST, https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2263874/Teachers-shouldnt-use-red-coloured-pens-mark-homework-like-shouting-upsets-pupils.html