Monday, December 8, 2008

Criticism

I am not a great writer. I'm likely not even a consistently good writer. But I do write. As a writer, or would be writer, the one thing I have come to accept, though I'm sure no one ever gets to the point of liking it, is rejection. Rejection and criticism go hand in hand, part and parcel, as part of the writer's life. And, if the writer expects to continue writing, these also become part of his or her toolbox. Yes, criticism often hurts; sometimes it invokes, at least in the short term, a sense of anger. However, I for one have always been of the school of thought that if I don't know what's wrong with a piece of writing I can't fix it. Or perhaps make the next piece better than this one. Writers who reject criticism do so at their own risk. As I said, none of us like it, but we should strive to welcome it and grow from it.

I have long felt that the words, "This is wonderful. I wish I had written it," are some of the most useless words ever strung together. Sure, they feel good, but how do they help you grow as a writer? As a part-time writing instructor this is something with which I struggle. I know kids, especially today, expect nothing but praise. We have raised them on a steady diet of self-esteem boosting rhetoric. I think we're all paying for it, by the way, with a population of young adults who can't see themselves as anything but right, no matter what they do; nothing is ever their fault. Still, a steady diet of nothing but criticism isn't much good, either. Especially if it's not constructive criticism. "This sucks" doesn't help a writer improve anymore than "This is perfect." I have to force myself to remember this and to always address the strengths of an essay first. But the bulk of my comments have to do with how to improve the paper and the author's writing techniques. That's the whole point of education, isn't it? Improvement more than a feel-good-free-for-all.

I explain to my students that all of us have trouble finding the flaws in our own work. I know I do. I can find mistakes or flaws or stylistic errors in other people's writing all day long and easily gloss over even the most simplistic errors in my own. Part of this has to do with the writing process. We work on things and see them over and over and our brains know what is supposed to be there--so that's what they see. Our brains fix things on the fly. Missing words and common semantic issues go unnoticed. Most of us have seen the oft circulated e-mail where all of the letters (save the first and last) of the words are jumbled up yet we read the passage easily. This is the same principle. The brain is an amazing thing. This is why it is always a good idea to rely on outside readers to help proof our work. I have a nephew who is a writer and film maker. He often sends me his stories to proofread before he hands them in at school. He will be the first to tell you that I am a horrible nitpicker. He often comes back with, "Hey, that actually happened," or another explanation. But I'm about trying to bulletproof his stories. Just because something happened in real life doesn't mean it's going to fly in a story (and vice verse). If I question something, others will, too. Which brings me to an important aspect of criticism that every writer should be aware of.

If one person comments on something in your writing, listen and take it into consideration. If two people comment on something in your writing, listen closely and take it into consideration. If everyone comments on something in your writing, listen and act on it. However, in the end, you are the author and the piece is yours. You are the final judge, jury, and executioner (well, actually, most publishers are the executioners). The point is that we should not immediately reject criticism. If you are certain your piece of writing is perfect despite the criticism, you can be almost certain it is not. Always listen and seriously consider your critics' comments before you reject them out of hand.

I suppose you can take this too far. I haven't completed anything of length in fifteen years because I just think the things I have to do in a story that are mundane transitions seem too much like space fillers. I am not a poet. I have never considered myself a poet. But I write a fair amount of poetry. Some of it, I think, isn't half bad, either. I write poetry because I can usually finish a poem. My poems are generally short. I try to maintain, if not a strict adherence to a particular form, at least a stylistic consistency and metrical base. I often suspect my poems are too prosy, but I do pay attention to word choice and connotation. I believe these things are important, along with effective imagery. I work mostly on the literal situation and hope the figurative one happens. It's the figurative situation that determines whether a poem works or not. This is often why my criticism of other poems often seems too negative. I have a low patience threshold for poems that just use words to seem artsy. Or poets who think they need to phrase things in a seemingly lofty manner in order to seem "poetic." Word choice and connotation and the simple conveyance of meaning are the most important aspects of an effective poem. If you force a rhyme just to rhyme, it will only hurt the poem. If you sacrifice grammatical correctness for a rhyme or metrical adherence, you are sacrificing the whole beauty of the language and you will turn away a lot of readers. This last one is one of my biggest pet peeves and it is surprising how commonly it occurs.

On a last note, too many people in this world think that criticism negates the possibility of liking something. Nothing could be further from the truth. I like a lot of things that aren't perfect. I like a lot of things that could be "fixed up" a bit. And I guarantee you I like a lot of things that I write or have written that are far from perfect and could really use a good critique. You can like something just fine and still be constructive about it. I like it, but I could like it a lot more if.... One of my favorite maxims is that no piece of writing is ever finished, it is only abandoned. That is, at some point, you have to publish it, let go and move on. It's a fact of life. I'd dare say you could find ways to improve almost everything that has ever been written if you wanted to take the time to do so. If you insist on making something perfect before you release it into the wild, you will never finish anything (trust me on this). So you should not be surprised by criticism; if anything, you should expect it. Plus, if someone takes the time to give you a critique it means one of two things: Either they are an instructor paid to do so and therefore have no choice, or they see enough promise in the piece to, in their view, help you improve it. Attempting to publish will help get you used to rejection. You'll never learn to like rejection, unless you're really sick that way. It doesn't even really get easier (though your reactions become less severe with time). But you do, on some level, come to accept it. In fact, you start hoping for personalized rejections because you start to realize that if someone takes the time to write you a personal note in addition to the form rejection you're at least on the right track. When you get a handwritten note on the rejection letter that says, "I really like this piece, it just isn't right for us at this time," it can be an ecstatic moment of hope.

So don't reject criticism. Don't hate the critic. Take criticism in hand and give it honest consideration. You don't have to blindly accept it--sometimes, often even, critics are just plain wrong. It would be a huge mistake, however, to blindly reject criticism without consideration. You will do yourself no favors by doing so and you will certainly not grow as a writer.