An Instagram friend of mine posed a question to fellow writers on their blog:
Perfectionism, I’ve learned, can murder a work before it’s even born. An abortion of creativity happens simply because we, as the creators, can’t bear the thought of someone picking apart our words and finding fault with our worlds.
So I ask you, Dear Reader/Writer, how do you get through this conundrum?… Does it get any better? Do you grow thicker skin? Do you just have to learn to deal with it, learn to pick your battles?
https://www.jenchandlerwashere.com/journal-indigo/tuesday-tidbits-the-novel-question
I’ve been studying for my Masters in Creative Writing. And, at first, it went well. I was so excited to be there, made wonderful friends. Most of all, I was fascinated by the way it made me see my writing differently. My first piece, Coffee, was pretty well received, the feedback constructive and, for the most part, positive. But then my second piece flopped at marking. To be honest, it had felt like a struggle to write from beginning to end; I wasn’t expecting a runaway hit. But I had always thought I knew the difference between “good” and “bad” writing. I poured over the feedback and mark scheme, trying to understand where I’d gone wrong. And… Nothing. There was nothing I could put my finger on. I still don’t really know why the first piece was marked higher than the second. And I haven’t been able to let that go. It’s eaten away at me. Stolen my joy in writing completely. Destroyed my confidence.
The thing is, no one likes criticism. None of us are happy when something we create is a flop or gets rejected. However, whether or not I like or agree with my criticism, if it is fair and constructive then I accept it. In the end, as an artist, you have to set the ego aside and see criticism as a helpful tool. It’s part of the process. You have to give up being liked in pursuit of self-expression. You have to develop a filter for opinions and what you let in and allow to influence you. You have to allow a certain degree of criticism in order to get valuable outside perspective.
The problem, for me, comes when that criticism isn’t fair or constructive.
Of course, no one is fair and objective all of the time. Not agents, publishers, literary critics, or university tutors. Definitely not Internet trolls. Not you, and not me. I know that, to a certain extent, we have to have the courage of our convictions and stand by our art. Because there will always be someone who doesn’t like you and doesn’t get what you do. There will always be someone having a bad day. However, that’s a little easier said than done when the thing that’s being criticised feels so deeply central to who you are as a person. When you can’t actually use that criticism in any useful way, it’s just plain old rejection. Call me ugly or stupid all you want – I’ll laugh it off. Call me a shit writer, and I’ll cry myself to sleep.
I don’t have the answers. I’ve spent the last couple of months asking myself this exact question: as a writer, what do we do with criticism and rejection? And, in the end, as much as I have tried to overcome it, it has wormed its way in. I haven’t published my second piece on the blog. I’ve barely written a thing, except for what I had to for my next deadline on the course. I’m wracked with anxiety and self-doubt. And have been seriously close to giving up on writing altogether. All this, even though I have a sneaking suspicion that they’re wrong. Even though I’ve been told by a number of people, whose opinions I respect, that the feedback is wrong.
It’s crazy, isn’t it?
The answer is, I think, that we don’t develop a thicker skin. But we do need to learn to stand in what we know. We need to have the courage and humility to accept valid criticism – and learn from it. And, at the same time, the discernment to reject criticism that is unfair or unhelpful. That’s just not the lesson I thought I would learn from this course, and it’s not one I’m finding easy to put into practise.
