As writers, we struggle every day with our image. If we’re not writing then we’re thinking about our writing and what others are thinking about our writing, holding our breath as we click on the comments or open the email, worried that the criticism will be negative. We exhale audibly when it isn’t… grit our teeth when it is.
Many critics, qualified or not, will always find the good. “Keep at it,” or “You’re almost there,” or “I like your snarky sense of humor.”
Many critics, qualified or not, won’t. “That’s interesting,” is the BEST compliment they can offer. “That’s interesting,” is about the worst thing someone can say about your writing.
Does any of it really matter? Who are YOU to judge my work… and who the hell am I to judge yours? Should I worry about whether or not you like my article any more than whether or not you like my Christmas sweater?
Case in point: When I was in grammar school, I was pretty darn close to the boys who lived across the street from me. One is a year older than me, the other a year younger. When I was about ten years old, they moved across town and our relationship, although still intact, diminished in frequency of visits and such. By the end of high school, we seldom talked.
After another ten years or so had passed, I made attempts to contact those old boys. Those attempts were ignored… and I didn’t think much about it. Then, with the advent of social media, the means I use to connect with people I hadn’t EVER spoken to while in school, my attempts at rekindling our friendship were rejected.
What had I done to them so long ago? What is wrong with me? Why would they shun me so? Maybe they didn’t like my Christmas sweater?
More years passed.
Recently, an uncle of those boys passed away. My wife, through her employer, knows the deceased’s wife pretty well, and they had become pretty good friends over the years. In order to support her friend, my wife and I attended the funeral. Of course, we’d long known of the widow’s association to those former friends of mine, but my showing up at the funeral was a complete surprise to them.
The greeting I received was cold, at best. That’s okay, I wasn’t there for them anyway.
My wife and I spent nearly an hour at the funeral, socializing with a few of the mourners, and I had a good amount of time to observe my former friends socializing with their extended family.
Now, this post is supposed to be about me. It’s supposed to be about how I feel about myself and how others see me as a writer. It is not intended as a passive-aggressive assault on some former friends who wouldn’t talk to me.
They’re standing off to one side, talking to each other. They’re greeting their OWN FAMILY as they greeted me. They’re having difficulty engaging in conversation with their own kin.
HOLY SHIT, THEY’RE SOCIAL MORONS.
See, sometimes, when you’re sure it’s about you, it isn’t about you at all.
This doesn’t mean that you should blow off criticism as the advice of an idiot. Criticism can be the meteor that changes history. But if the criticism isn’t of the constructive kind, then it’s best to consider the source, rather than the words.
Believe in yourself. Have faith in YOU. You can accomplish anything you want, regardless of what others say.
I have never owned nor worn a Christmas sweater, by the way.
Eric Schlehlein, Author 