On Critiques, And Knowing Yourself, And Hurting Others

Some Laws and a Disclaimer

1) Every writer* wants to share their writing with others.

1a) Every writer wants others to like/enjoy/approve of their writing.

1b) It is not uncommon for this very enjoyment by others to become a motivating force for the writer to continue to write.

1c) Every writer secretly fears that they are wasting their time.

2) Every writer sucks, at least in the beginning and almost certainly continuing far past that point.

2a) The point at which a writer stops sucking is the point where their style appeals to some people.

2b) The point at which a writer stops sucking is ALSO the point where their style does not appeal to other people.

I have, above, detailed some simple and stupid rules for writing. Everyone who reads this blog likely knows that I HUGELY ENDORSE writing through the suckitude, and that I would love for everyone to personally follow their dreams and VERB whatever it is they wish to be a NOUN of. In no way are the above rules intended to dissuade, in any way, from anyone participating in the horrific and glorious journey towards becoming a better writer.

The Truth

That being said.

Because of Rule 1, you will ask your friends to read your writing.

Because of Rule 2, your friends may not actually like your writing.

Your Kind and Good-Hearted Friends

SOME of your friends are going to be accomplished bullshitters, who will be able to grit their teeth and assure you that you do indeed spark rainbows from your fingertips as you tickle the ‘ol keyboard.

Love these poor friends, who value your self-esteem. Pity them, for they will then be subjected to every scrap of writing you produce, and you will thus be crushing their delicate little souls by forcing them to endure something they do not like.

To put it into context, you joined a HEAVY METAL BAND (you’re welcome, Kristen and Anne, for not using Polka there) and your friends listen exclusively to CLASSIC COUNTRY music. Now, they are not only forced to attend every single one of your concerts — they must also attend every band practice and praise you enthusiastically even while their eardrums are bleeding and their souls lay quivering in pathetic puddles around their ankles.

Please do not do this to your friends. It hurts, to have them say they do not like something, but if you’re friends, you care just as much about whether or not THEY are enjoying something as you care about whether or not YOU are enjoying something.

Your Savvy or Strong-stomached Friends

OTHERS among your friends are going to be braver (or have run through this rubbish before, and are therefore wiser). They will tell you what they think.

Your Request

STOP.

This is the point where, you, the writer, need to assess your own feelings.

If you tell your friend “I want a critique, a real one. Tell me what you think. Be BRUTALLY HONEST.”

… and your friend finds flaws? Real ones or imagined ones, things based on personal preference or actual problems with the writing?

It’s going to hurt.

Hurt

You are allowed to exit the room, find a bathroom, and cry. You are allowed to wallow in self-pity (for a short amount of time). You are allowed to do ALL OF THESE THINGS and I will bring you over a pint of ice cream and we will wail about the unfairness of the universe together.

Cruelty

What you are NOT allowed to do is tell that friend that their critique (which you BEGGED THEM TO GIVE YOU) has now so completely crushed your self-esteem such that you will NEVER WRITE AGAIN. *cue dramatic hair wringing while standing alone in the rain, followed by arm flailing and door slamming*

You are hurt. This is understandable, despite the fact that you were in fact hoping for more rainbows in that particular critique.

You are not allowed to transfer that hurt to someone else. you are not allowed to force them to bear your burden — the burden of your entire future and career and self-worth.

No other human being can bear that burden for you. We’re all rather busy holding our OWN psyches dangling by laughably pathetic threads.

It’s not just unfair. It’s cruel. And I do not use that word lightly.

Everyone needs a shoulder from time to time, and although writers need thick skins, I’m not suggesting you earn yours all at once, or attempt to wade through the murky waters of the future all by your lonesome.

I am suggesting that if you have made it to this situation, explain to the other person that you are hurt and that it is NOT their fault, and that you thank them for their honesty and that you really would like a blanket fort and a pint of ice cream right about now.

This reaction is asking someone to share your load instead of accusing them and forcing them to carry the whole damn thing.

The Better Scenario

Preferably? You assessed your self-esteem and told them “I hope you love this. I put a lot of myself into it, and nothing would make me happier than to be able to share it with someone else who loves it. I, however, am not capable of handling negative criticism right now. Please do not sandwich any negative comments between the positive ones. Even so much as a single “this is good, but–” has the chance to send me rocking back into self-doubt.”

And if it is handed back to you with the mildest possible rebuke of, “I’m sorry, but this just wasn’t for me,” then you accept it and do not bother them with writings of that ilk again. You RESPECT THEM.

Myself, Perry, and Zonduth

And if you would, dear readers, before deciding that is a completely spineless and horrible way to go about asking your friends to read your work, please be advised that this is exactly the agreement that Perry and I have about the book I’m writing.

I am fully aware of (many of) its flaws. I cringe at some of the chapters I’ve passed over to him. I will have one helluva revision pass, followed by seven or eight more, before I even hand it off to a Beta reader.

Perry has graciously accepted every noun and verb, and bit his tongue. He has pointed out the things that are GOOD. The things that are fun, the things that make him want to read more.

This is no mean feat, nor am I making light of it. He told me he’d rather me hand over the chapters, no matter how horrible, so that he could read them, and he accepted my caveat — that while I’m writing, I can’t afford to keep looking back over the things I did badly and which need editing.

Instead? I have a word doc full of nothing but encouragement and good things. I know what he likes. What’s working. (and between the lines, several things that are also not working, which is totally acceptable. We’re neither of us idiots)

He offered to read/critique. I knew myself, and I told him what I was capable of handling. As a result, we’re neither of us hurt (well, I won’t speak to his opinion on that score. Some of the new sentence structures I’ve come up with haven’t yet been accepted by respected editors or drunken sailors yet).

TLDR

When you ask someone to critique, ask for the LEVEL of critique you are seeking, and do not punish them when they do as you ask, even if the results are hurtful.

* For simplicity’s sake, let’s just assume:

When I say “every”, I mean “every writer I have ever met, which is not every writer that exists, but which seems to encompass rather a large subset of writers and if you aren’t the sort of writer to whom this applies then you probably don’t care very much what the rest of this blog post has to say.”

When I say “writer”, I mean “producer of thing, be that thing writing, painting, digital art, dance, singing, origami penguins, cosplay, omelettes, or any number of other things that are too numerous to list here.”

There. Isn’t that simpler? Yes. Yes, it is.

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