before you write
Writing
Judgements.
How to find one. How to put it on the page.
"To actually see a person as whole, you can't just see their light."
— G.G.
What is a judgement?
A judgement is a perception you feel emotionally charged about — something you've noticed about another person that carries resistance, disapproval, or the thought I am not that. When that feeling is present, you've begun to source one.
One way to test if you've found a real one: Am I afraid of this person's reaction when I share it? That fear is a reliable signal. The good stuff lives there.
Judgement is a container for many things —
clarity
discernment
clarity
insight
observation
perception
shadow
resentment
grudge
avoidance
righteousness
disdain
criticism
dissonance
distrust
reactivity
repression
How you resist aspects of other people is a compass pointing to where you are not fully loving or accepting yourself. The judgement you carry about someone else is also a self-portrait.
if you're stuck
Six ways to find a judgement.
Staring at a blank card? Start here.
Flip the admiration.
Start with what you genuinely admire about the person. The judgement is often the same trait — untempered, turned up too high, or applied in the wrong context. Strength and shadow are the same thing from different angles.
the gift
I admire your attention to detail and organizational precision.
the judgement
I judge you for being controlling and needing things done exactly your way.
the gift
I admire your ability to stand firm in your values — integrity over likeability.
the judgement
I judge you for delivering your truths with unnecessary disdain.
Follow the charge.
Think of the moments this person has activated you — irritation, bracing, closing down. Is there a pattern? The thing that keeps happening is usually where the judgement lives. Name it.
the pattern
She hints at what she wants but never asks directly. I'm always left expected to decode it without her having to be vulnerable enough to ask.
the judgement
I judge you for communicating covertly and expecting others to decode your desires so you don't have to ask for them directly.
Find the gap.
Where don't you fully trust this person? What would concern you if you had to rely on them? An intimacy gap — whatever keeps you from being closer — almost always has a judgement beneath it.
the gap
I wouldn't want to collaborate with them. I always end up caretaking them in the process — I don't trust them to carry their own weight.
the judgement
I judge you for not being emotionally sovereign and using your vulnerability to pull others into rescuing or saving you.
Distil it.
A first-draft judgement is often a place to start, not a place to land. Push through the general to find the precise behavior underneath. A more specific judgement is a more honest one — and more useful to the person receiving it.
too general
I judge you because you're annoying.
distilled
I judge you for being rude to service workers — you come across as entitled and unaware of your impact on others.
I judge you for being a superior, self-absorbed narcissist.
too general
I judge you for leaving the toilet seat up.
distilled
I judge you for not noticing the needs of others.
I judge you for being the essence of the tragedy of the commons.
Flash judgements.
Some of the most honest judgements are petty ones — a physical detail, a small habit, the way someone laughs. Don't rule them out for being shallow. They're still emotionally charged, and that's the point. When in doubt: which phrasing feels more vulnerable to say out loud? Start there.
- I judge you for the way you keep laughing after everyone else has stopped.
- I judge you for the noises you make when you eat.
- I judge you for being careless with your appearance.
- I judge you for being basic.
- I judge you for wearing the same three outfits all the time.
Let yourself be mean.
Give yourself permission to look through lenses you usually avoid — the righteous one, the jealous one, the petty one. These shadow parts hold judgements you haven't approved yet. They are often the most true.
"Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual's conscious life, the blacker and denser it is."
— Carl Jung
once you have one
How to write it well.
Write what you've actually observed.
Not what you imagine, not what you fear, not what someone else told you. What have you personally witnessed? The more grounded in specific memory, the better.
instead of
You're kind of closed off.
try
You go quiet when the conversation gets personal. I've watched you physically lean back.
Write in second person, present tense.
You do X lands differently than they tend to X. It's direct. It has presence. It requires the writer to own their observation.
instead of
This person sometimes avoids conflict.
try
You agree with people in the room and say the opposite thing outside it.
Name the behavior, not the character.
Character labels — you're selfish, you're manipulative — are conclusions. They skip the evidence and land as attacks. Behavior observations are invitations: here's what I see, now you decide what it means.
instead of
You're a control freak.
try
You restate other people's plans back to them in a way that subtly changes the outcome.
Don't soften it into uselessness.
The instinct to be kind is real. But a judgement that's all cushion and no content wastes everyone's time. You're in this room to be honest. A well-meant but vague card doesn't help anyone examine their shadow.
too soft
You're really fun and I think you sometimes hold back a little, but that's totally okay!
sharper
You perform ease. Something underneath is tightly wound.
If you see it, you have it.
This is the shadow principle at the heart of the game. The thing you're judging in someone else is alive in you — or you wouldn't recognize it so clearly. Write what bothers you most. That's where the gold is.
When the writer reveals themselves after a card is owned, this is what they're exploring: how is this judgement mine too?
what to avoid
Compliments
You're so generous isn't a judgement — it's a compliment. Save it for after the game. The game asks for what you actually think, not what you admire.
Prescriptions
You should speak up more isn't an observation — it's a wish. Stick to what is, not what you want someone to become.
Rumor or hearsay
Write only what you've personally witnessed. Second-hand observations — even accurate ones — don't belong here.
Weaponized honesty
If you're writing about someone because you're angry at them, take a breath. The game is not the place to settle scores. Check your intent.
The cards are the beginning.
The next step is learning to hold the room.