Caveat Emptor
When it comes to writing–anything, actually–don’t take advice from someone you don’t want to be more like. I’m amazed by how many people ask for advice from people they’d never want to actually emulate. And how many people dispense advice who really have no business dispensing advice. Someone of Mr. PJ’s acquaintance, for example, talks incessantly about what a relationship guru she is and how everyone should “respect” her–her word–by slavishly adhering to every word she utters. Except this woman, when not talking herself up, is constantly complaining about her (latest) unhappy marriage, how much she hates everyone she knows, how unfulfilling she finds her life and how her own children won’t talk to her.
Which begs the question: why is she qualified to give advice?
For that matter, why am I?
I dispense a lot of writing advice on this blog. It’s the advice I’ve used to get myself to where I am, and that’s really the only endorsement I have. So if you like my writing, you’ll probably like my advice. Same goes with my reviews–including of your work, should you ask me for one. When people ask me to review their work, which they do from time to time, I always tell them the same thing: read something of mine (I feel comfortable making this request, since you can do so on this site for free), and then ask me again. They mostly ignore me; feeling, no doubt, that I’m being awfully self aggrandizing. Which I’m not; I’m not telling them (you) to read my work because it’s so great but, rather, in order to get a sense of whether my advice is something they (you) actually want.
Because, realistically, it might not be. You might hate my writing, both style and content, in which case my advice won’t be all that helpful. Not because I’m not ready, willing, and able to offer it but because it might not be what you actually need. And it certainly won’t be what you want. That being said, if you think I’m critical of your work then believe me, I’m a thousand times more critical of my own. I apply a slash and burn theory of editing; no “darling” is sacred. And that’s another issue: I endeavor to be kind, because I like to consider myself a decent person, but I’ve always been a coach rather than a cheerleader.
Which brings me to my final point: when you’re poring through writing advice or, indeed, asking someone to read your work, be upfront–with yourself, and with the other person if you’re actually asking them to read something–about what it is you want. Trust me, it’s much better to say, “I really need some encouragement in my craft, to bolster me up so I can keep going” if that’s what you want, rather than saying, “I’m looking for criticism,” because that’s what you think you’re supposed to want. In writing as in (other) relationships, open and honest communication is the key to success.
There’s a reason you ask your best friend the diva drag queen to help you shop for curtains, and not your husband. Different people fulfill different roles; and the more honest you are with yourself about what you’re looking for, in each situation, the better able you’re going to be to meet your own needs–and the easier it’s going to be, in the long run, to separate the wheat from the chaff. Which, caveat emptor–buyer beware or, in legal terms, the joke’s on you. And you, and ONLY you, can look out for your own best interests.
In short: evaluate everything, not by what people are promising to do for you but what you actually want from them.
