The Need for Criticism

To avoid criticism, do nothing, say nothing, and be nothing. – Elbert Hubbard

There are a few things that every writer should have.  When you get down to it, that is a pretty substantial comment.  Writing is largely individual and like many arts, is at least partially subjective.  That being said, there are things we should all have in common.

First off is a copy of Strunk and White’s Elements of Style.  If you don’t have it, get it.  There are few books that address writing mechanics as efficiently as this one.

Second is something to write on.

Third is a good attention span.  Writing is hard and takes up lots of time.  Even when you aren’t writing, that attention span will allow you to go about the business of collecting.  A writer is a sponge that soaks up the world around him.  Phrases that are interesting, mannerisms, appearances, settings.  Everything is stored for later use.

The fourth, is arguably the most important, and that is thick skin towards criticism.  Do not shun criticism, welcome it.  Nothing will make you a better writer than criticism.  You are too close to your own writing.  You infer things from its sentences that cannot be inferred.  You understand things that cannot be understood.  Things make sense that shouldn’t because your brain fills in the gaps.  You need other people to tear apart your stuff.

Does it hurt?  Of course it does.  It hurts no less than a stranger saying your children are ugly.  But it is important.  You are going to get rejections.  You are going to get criticized.  With luck, you will be judged by thousands of people.  Now is the time to get used to it.  Lack of criticism in writing is lack of movement forward.

I was reminded this just recently after reading a self-published first novel by a writer new to fiction.  I was excited to read the book because of several glowing reviews on Amazon calling it the next big thing.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t.  The book wasn’t bad, by any means.  The concept was good, but the writing had a lot of technical issues and the story wasn’t consistent.  This type of thing can only be caught by having your work read ahead of time by people who are willing to hurt your feelings and who worry about more than just your spelling.

Inconsistency to the rules of your story world cannot be allowed.  Your characters must be true to themselves.  Inefficient sentence structure is an easy fix.  None of those things are necessary, nor should they make it to a final draft.  Unfortunately, if you don’t know better, and no one is willing to tell you, how would you know?  All of the five-star reviews are doing nothing for this writer, especially whereas the book is to be the first of a series.  This is one of the dangers of self-publishing.  If you don’t have the appropriate support group to read your work, you risk putting out bad fiction.

Unfortunately, my own review of this book was not appreciated.  So it goes.  I feel bad for the writer.  I don’t feel bad that I said the writing was loose and needed an experienced editor or novelist to guide the writer’s next endeavor.  I feel bad that the writer may not learn anything from it.

I’ve learned so much from those who have criticized my writing.  I don’t mean insulted, but genuinely said what was wrong with it.  I recently wrote a first draft that didn’t work.  I knew it didn’t work and showed it to someone.  They tore it apart.  The re-write resulted in a focused, tighter piece that worked much better.  If I had not had someone who was willing to be critical, the project could have been lost.  Instead, I was able to submit it to an anthology.

Embrace other writers who are willing to be critical of you.  Love them.  If you don’t agree with what they say, don’t use it.  But never downplay their usefulness.  It might be the most important thing in your development as a writer.

 

 

 

 

You Are Not a Beautiful and Unique Snowflake

Listen up, maggots. You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You’re the same decaying organic matter as everything else. – Tyler Durden in Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club

Writer’s are a fragile bunch.  We are primarily solitary creatures, except when we are gathering with other writers to talk about writing.  We spend most of our lives dancing to music that exists only in our heads, talking to characters no one else can hear, and trying to effectively communicate what they say to everyone else.

That can be a lot of pressure.  Sometimes it can be overwhelming.  In Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott writes about the delicate psyche of the writer and the oppressive gravity a blank page can place upon them.  I think sometimes we let ourselves get frightened by the gravity and scope of what we are trying to do.  There are so many things to worry about.  There is plot, characters, theme, setting, dialogue, grammar, spelling.  We may invest hundreds of hours in a work of fiction that sucks and no one will ever read.  We want to write something special, something that means something.  We want to write the great American novel.

Anne Lamott deals with this by telling herself she only has to write what she can see through a one inch window.  What I do is far less romantic, and likely the by-product of a blue-collar upbringing.  I remind myself that I am not special.  I cannot sit and watch a beautiful masterpiece flow from my fingertips.  I am working.  That requires practice, attention to detail, stubbornness, and the little bit of skill I possess.

I am not special.  Thousands of writers are facing that same blank page at this moment.   Hundreds of thousands of writers have faced millions of blank pages, and amazingly they have managed to be filled.  The Library of Congress has 33 million books, not even a small percentage of all the writing done when you include magazines, screenwriting, playwriting, etc.

I am facing the same problem as everyone else.  My answer will be the only thing different.  When I stopped writing for awhile, a lot of it was about pressure.  Some people around me who had read my stuff said I had talent.  I felt pressure to perform and to do so immediately.  Write a best-seller, my ex-wife used to say, so we can live on the money.  She was trying to be supportive and encouraging, but a few rejection letters later, I stopped submitting.  It was one thing for Ray Bradbury and Stephen King to say to persevere through rejections, they could literally crap on a sheet of paper and a publisher would buy it.  But I am not either one of them.

Lately, I’ve been going to writer’s groups, and that has made the difference.  I realized that I am not special.  I am not the only writer struggling to start a literary career.  I’m not even the only writer in my sub-genre in this city.  Hell, for all I know, I’m not the only writer on my block.  Somehow, that all makes me feel better.  It calms my agoraphobic social phobia enough to get to work.

You don’t worry about mowing your lawn correctly because everyone does it.  You don’t worry about shoveling snow the right way.  You just shovel it.  If you are working on a car, you know other people have done the same repair before and you just go do it.

When I approached writing this way, suddenly the blank page wasn’t near as offensive.  Writing is just another thing I do.  I love doing it, but in the end, it’s just another project.  A blank page is nothing.  I’ve filled them before.  My colleagues are out there filling them right now.  My fellow writers of the Dead Horse Society, the Writers of the Weird, and the Lawrence Writer’s Group are out there punching keys along with me.  Some of our stuff will be good, some of it great, some of it God awful, but it will be there.

I’m not a beautiful and unique snowflake, and that is fine by me.