Today’s post is written by regular contributor Sarah Baughman.
Writing is a conundrum: highly personal, yet undoubtedly public.
On the one hand, we write what matters most to us, weave our deepest feelings into characters and scenes, offer confessions, feel nervous to share what we’ve crafted, talk about loving “the process” whether or not we find “success”.
On the other hand, we crave acknowledgment, submit to literary magazines, enter contests, check and respond to our blog comments, sign up for writers’ conferences and critique groups, employ editors, attend readings.
Writing begins privately and demands some degree of isolation. The flicker of inspiration we register—a line that comes to us as we wake up, a setting we dream on the way to work—begins inside; nobody else can see it. We work for hours at a computer, honing words alone.
But inevitably, someone else enters the picture. We request feedback, revise and polish. Send our work into the void to be judged. And why?
We make our writing public because we crave connection. Positive feedback is nice, but it goes deeper than that. Recently someone who commented on an essay of mine wrote, “Thank you for…making me feel less alone in my thoughts.” His words spelled, for me, success. If by writing I can somehow further understanding, empathy, and a feeling of belonging in a world that’s sometimes lonely, I’m happy.
Author Laura Munson’s professed artist’s statement reads: “I write to shine a light on an otherwise dim or even pitch-black corner, to provide relief for myself and others.” Relief for myself and others. Indeed, writing is neither purely altruistic, nor purely selfish. As we reach others, we too benefit. We connect with others by doing something we enjoy anyway. What a great arrangement!
But what happens when it doesn’t quite work that way? All writers who publicize their work know not everybody will like it. Maybe some people will hate it. Others just won’t quite relate. Rejection, disagreement, or even ho-hum neutrality can come from faraway publishers or from people we know and love.
It’s one thing to be intellectually prepared for rejection or indifference, and another to experience it. No matter how much we might love hearing that Kathryn Stockett’s manuscript of The Help was rejected sixty times before getting picked up by a publisher, we don’t actually want those sixty rejections for ourselves.
It’s tempting, in the face of less-than-ideal reactions to the public version of our private work, to lose focus, adopt a different style, ditch a writing plan we once felt excited about, or even withdraw from that public sphere for good. But we shouldn’t.
On the contrary, writing our own truth–via fiction, non-fiction, poetry, drama, or any other genre–becomes indisputably important.
How do we know we’re writing our truth?
- We have a clear vision. We might not know how it’s going to end. Or we might know how, but not why. We do, however, have a sense of the direction we want our work to take, the themes we want to see emerge.
- Our characters feel like real people. We don’t need to make every character a thinly veiled version of Aunt Mildred or Cousin Timmy, but we should feel connected to each character. They should seem like kindred spirits, or frightening enemies.Our reactions to them should feel visceral, as though we’re reaction to a person we met on the street.
- Elements of ourselves emerge in our work. Even in fiction, even in a work where you’ve adopted a setting, a persona, a conflict that you think you’ve never experienced. You should still see some elements you can relate to, something that tugs at your heart.
- Hitting “publish” feels good. Nervous is normal. But when you’ve written your truth, the anxiety of wondering how people will react is outweighed by the sense that you’ve written something worth sharing.
How can we deal with unwanted, or absent, responses?
- Anticipate potential reactions ahead of time. Assume that what you’ve written won’t speak to everyone. Also assume that it will speak to at least someone. Bet on half and half, and you’ll probably be pleasantly surprised.
- Focus on positive responses. Human nature makes it easy to focus on the negative, even if it’s a minority perspective. If rejection gets you down, reread positive notes, critiques, and comments you’ve received. They’ll remind you that you’ve connected after all.
- Step inside the alternate perspective. Considering people’s motivations for rejecting your work makes for an interesting psychological experiment. How do your experiences and values contrast in ways that explain the difference of opinion? This isn’t a superiority contest, though; you should walk away feeling humbled by a variety of views, but still confident in your own.
- Remember how disagreement enhances diversity. The reason high school English programs feature authors as different as Toni Morrison and Ernest Hemingway is because there’s no one right way to write.
Emily Dickinson advised, “Tell all the Truth but tell it slant.” Write it sideways, perhaps? We all have different truths to speak, and our readers won’t always agree with us. But it’s hardly a reason to stop writing. Think of the connections you’d lose if you did.
How do you absorb others’ reactions to your work while ensuring you remain true to your vision and goals as a writer? How do you handle responses you didn’t want, or didn’t get?
This article comes at a perfect time as I’m considering the reaction to my first novel and wavering a bit as I write my second. It’s so easy to get caught up with the voices in your head which tell you that you aren’t good enough or that ‘they’ won’t get it but that’s when you have to forge ahead and speak your truth. Not everyone needs to agree with/like/receive it and that’s okay b/c we don’t always agree with/like and receive other people’s work.
That’s a good point, Zoe. There are so many different ways to write well, and different markets too. We pick and choose which writers to read, and others will do the same with our work.
Thanks for this encouraging post! It is very easy to focus on negative responses. Understanding that our work will never please everyone helps us to set realistic expectations and to handle those negative comments without being shattered.
Thanks for reading, Roxanne. Expectations really can be used for ill or good– when we have unrealistic ones, we set ourselves up for negativity.
Thank you for sharing this thought-inspiring piece. I have not yet written any book. So, I do not have the personal expeirence of having my work accepted or rejected. However, from time to time I receive manuscripts of fiction and non-fiction for editing and reviewing and send them back with positive feed-back and sometimes negative comments. Unlike a publisher’s my purpose is only to help improve the work presented. Still, understandably, there are always pleasant and unpleasant reactions to my comments. As I am an aspiring writer, I found in Sarah Baughman’s post encouraging advice.
Thanks for reading, Kidanye. It sounds like you’ve given editorial guidance– and I imagine people sometimes resist it. But really, all we can do is consider whatever help is offered and decide how we might use it!
There are a number of publicly acclaimed, award winning novels that I won’t be reading. Not because they’re badly written, but because they don’t resonate with me personally. I realize that not everyone will like what I write and that’s okay, too. (Most of the time, anyway.) Focusing on negative reviews is the first step in giving up and giving up leads to failure.
Exactly, Diana! I couldn’t have said it better myself. I’m not going to read and enjoy every book out there– so why should everybody else read and enjoy mine? Your comment reminds me of the saying that “what we focus on expands.” There’s no reason to dwell in negativity.
Thanks for the article. You have great timing. I have been writing short stories for a small publication. But I think they would make a good novel. So I am beginning to switch over. I am learing so much from you and FACEBOOK, things seem to be racing way ahead of me. I found an editor this week and I think we will work well together. (work in progress) Glenn
Keep up the good work, Glenn! I’m sure you’ll love working with your editor– I wrote another post on how helpful they are. Best wishes on your novel.
I am so glad I found this site, in a real ‘dark night of the soul’ moment. 🙂
All the contributors feel like kindred. I also *never* comment on blog posts so this is a mark of the utmost gratitude and respect. What I love already is that it just reads like the type of literary friend/aid a writer needs. One that applies common-sense to creativity – the result being clarity and authorial elegance.
It’s kind of similar to when you read a new, but totally apt metaphor. So satisfying. Henceforth you are going to be my favourite ‘living textbook’ on writing. I look forward to evolving with you!
Thanks for reading, LongLashes! This is a great site with so many insightful contributors.
This is so pertinent to what I’m experiencing and the doubts I have. And yes, not being “alone in my thoughts” is what I’m feeling right now. I always hope my words lift others up or show them something deeply personal but you are right, not everyone will appreciate it and for various reasons.
It is always so reassuring to realize that all of us who write, really have a lot in common inside, if not on the actual words we put to page. Thank you. I’m so glad I found your blog.
Thanks, Stacy. I like the idea that we all have something in common, even if it doesn’t always show in the writing. The desire to write, perhaps, is enough to bind us.
What an awesome post–thank you! Indeed, it’s tough to stay true to oneself when critiques coming in suggest, in good faith, a “small” change, or a “minor” tweak–like why not let the girl keep the boy at the end, after all? Haha. But you’re right–without our “truth”, we become just puppets in the hands of the child that is the collective audience, whoever that audience is for us at any given time. Thanks for sharing!
An apt metaphor, Guilie! We have to find that balance– remaining open to feedback while also retaining a backbone that keeps us from being too “puppet-like!”
I enjoyed reading this today. I have just finished the first draft of my first novel and I am in the process of shopping editors. I have faced rejection in the past in other ways, and I have found that I always have taken negative criticism as a challenge. There is always a bit of truth in someone’s reaction to your work. It is helpful to keep comments in context. I look for the little bit of truth in what someone says that is terrible and use it to make me better and stronger. If I can’t find that gem hiding in the negative, it is so much easier to write them off as part of that group you won’t please. As for publishers, we know there is so much that goes into acceptance for a book. As writers we have to prepare that we will not get picked up the first few times, and it might have NOTHING to do with our work but everything to do with what the publisher is currently accepting. Persistence, understanding and a positive attitude all help overcome these things. A friend told me once a long time ago when I first started writing – invest in your work but don’t attach your identity to it. I love writing and definitely give it all I have. I also keep a healthy emotional distance from it so that I won’t be crushed later. Not sure if this helps someone, but it helped me!
Michelle, that is excellent advice! Thanks so much for sharing it. We must achieve that delicate balance of being emotionally attached enough to our work to engage deeply with it but not so much that we completely collapse when it’s difficult. I also like the idea of looking for that “little bit of truth” and using it productively. It’s easy, but counterproductive, to take an extreme approach and internalize all negativity. The better idea is to grow from criticism!
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Thanks for reading! This site offers many wonderful resources for writers.