April 11, 2009
When I send out a story, I don’t really want to receive a critique in response. A yes or no is the only answer I really need. I’m at the point in my development where I know a few things about writing. For example, I know that opinions vary; once you get past a certain level of competence in your writing, one person’s trash is another person’s treasure. I also know how to write a story. There’s always room for improvement and continued development, but I have a pretty firm grasp of the basics. Not everything I write is a glittering gem, but whatever I send out is at least competent…and hopefully compelling as well. So I don’t really need or want critiques on my short stories.
Here’s why. I’m sure those who write them are trying to be helpful. I appreciate the time they spent reviewing my text and composing comments. But for the most part, opinions are relative…and can have a negative impact on a writer’s work and morale. For example, I just got some comments back on a story today, and I thought they were pretty silly. I thought the reader missed the point and was trying too hard to dissect a frivolous, goofy story as a piece of serious literature. It was a piece of junk food, for heaven’s sake; don’t try treating it like the bloody Mona Lisa. I respect the reader’s right to an opinion, but hearing about it just left me with bad feelings. Even knowing, as I do, that most opinions are relative and essentially meaningless, the critic’s comments still sapped my morale and made me doubt the quality of my work…my current novel and all my novels included. This critique hit me at just the wrong moment, when my self-doubt quotient was already pretty high, and it just plain put me over the top. Which isn’t the critic’s fault, he thought he was helping, I’m sure of it. But really, a yes or no would have sufficed and would have spared me the little crisis of faith.
Truth is, I need to toughen up. I’ve gotten much, much better at handling rejection, I’ve had to, but I still let it get to me sometimes. As my mentors, Dean Wesley Smith and Kristine Kathryn Rusch, are fond of saying, “If you can be discouraged, you should be.” In other words, you either develop a thick skin, or you stop being a writer. Because a writer has to have the hide of a damned rhino. No two ways about it. Even writers with successful careers need that thick skin. Especially them, because they’re so much more visible, and make much better targets for people trying to climb the ladder by shooting down the current top guns. So it’s clear I need to reinforce that in my mind, thicken my skin, and keep plugging away. Either that, or give up the dream that’s given my life meaning.
Now for today’s photo. This one’s from the Hofbrau House beer hall in Munich, Germany during Oktoberfest in 1990. That’s John O’Down in the photo with me, a hell of a tour guide and an interesting guy. Sadly, he’s no longer with us. See you tomorrow!
Munich, Germany, Oktoberfest 1990
