Let’s talk criticism!
It’s that thing we all love. Or, well, nope, not so much. But it’s important. And it’s a really complicated thing to deal with. So! Let’s talk about it.
Lots of artists are their own worst critics, but I like to think I’ve always had a pretty good balance. I can recognize my own mistakes (most of the time), but I can also recognize — I think — when I’ve done something well.
I didn’t start this way. I didn’t pop out of the womb fully-formed and self-aware. And I didn’t become this way alone — nor can I maintain proper perspective or apply wise assessment to criticism alone. It’s taken a lot of criticism, a lot of feedback, a lot of interaction and time spent sharing my works with people and listening to what they have to say, to get here.
It’s really important to be able to embrace the successes when it comes to creative endeavors — this (the creative world) is the world with the highest potential for absolute soul-crushing emotional devastation. It can feel really lonely, creating stuff. It can get really complicated, and you spend a lot of time toiling away at something that no one else will see for a long time, that often feels like something no one will understand, that maybe you don’t even understand, and now I don’t even understand what I was trying to say in the first place!
Art is… difficult.
It’s easy to get trapped in your own head, second-guessing and overthinking every little thing, and because you pour so much of yourself into your work, it can be crippling to see that work rejected, criticized, and torn apart.
A lot of people will say you need a “thick skin.” And I…
Don’t.
Or, well, I think it’s more complicated than that.
You have to have a willingness to be vulnerable when creating something from your heart — otherwise you’re holding yourself back, and not actually pouring your heart into it. And you can’t just have a thick skin, or you run the risk of forcing real, constructive, poignant criticism and correction to bounce off of you. To be able to learn from mistakes, to be able to take criticism, you have to be open to it.
But you also need perspective, self-awareness, and a confidence in your work. Not arrogance, but that’s where perspective comes in. You have to be able to know when you’ve accomplished what you set out to do. You have to be able to recognize when a suggestion or bad review or criticism is valid — something that can help you grow and improve your work — and when it isn’t. You have to know when someone’s suggestion, however well-meaning, goes against your objectives and the soul of your work. You have to be able to say, “No, this direction is good, actually,” and be able to articulate why.
But (there’s always a “but”) you also have to be open to the possibility that the direction you’ve been going in has been wrong all along, and be willing to scrap an entire 80,000 word draft to start all over again, almost from scratch. If that’s what the story needs, then you need people able to point that out, and you yourself need to be able to recognize that, and do what’s necessary.
So, uh… it’s complicated. Having a “thick skin” and calling it a day borders on arrogance — that you are strong alone, that you know what’s best, that only you can decide what’s right — and even at its best will numb you to at least some constructive, meaningful, important criticism that will help you grow. But lacking confidence in your work, being too fragile against criticism, leaves you at risk of being so emotionally devastated that you can’t create things anymore, or — potentially worse than that horrible outcome — blindly integrating terrible advice because you’re too pliable, vulnerable, and frightened to know that it’s the wrong way, and are too desperate to fix what you, in your overly-emotionally-compromised mind, can only see as an artistic disaster of the highest order.
Lean in close, and I’ll tell you a secret.
Often, the overly-emotionally-fragile ones who think everything they create is terrible… are the ones creating some of the most amazing things.
Have some confidence in yourself!
But know, deep in your soul, that you are not always right. You are, in fact, often wrong. Sometimes, you even do create a total artistic disaster (though that happens far less often than you think it does). You can’t create a masterpiece all alone, without anyone else’s guidance, advice, insight, or, yes, even criticism.
So, yeah. It’s complicated.
But also, yeah, forget the “thick skin” mentality. That’s too simplistic of a mindset for something as complicated and nuanced as artistic and imaginative creative pursuits. Telling stories, creating visual arts, composing music, crafting a poem, scripting or directing a film or television series or play, constructing a video game, whatever it is you’re doing and pouring your soul into, requires a hefty dose of perspective, and a strong, stable foundation of both confidence and humility in equal measure. You need criticism. And you need the perspective, confidence, and humility to sort through that criticism as accurately as possible, without collapsing under its weight.
Yup. Complicated.
But I think that’s important to recognize, to be honest about, and even to embrace. Because you know what?
Life is freaking complicated.
We want to throw out simplistic platitudes, we want to boil things down to a single word of advice, a single mentality, a single idea that will guide us through every storm. Life’s too complicated for that. We all need a heaping helping of nuance. Recognize the complexity and complicatedness of it all, instead of shying away from it. It can be overwhelming, but life gets that way sometimes.
That’s why you don’t go it alone. Nobody, whatever you’re doing in life, whatever you’re going through in life, should ever try to go it alone.
Because that “thick skin” mentality is detrimental in all walks of life. Telling someone they need a “thick skin” to deal with criticism is also often a suggestion thrown out to deal with bullying, or cruelty, or slander, or disrespect, or all the other painful things you’ll deal with in life. It seems to me like saying to someone:
“Hey, the world is difficult and painful and harsh. So close yourself off to it. Harden your heart against it.”
And that’s not the way to go.
Maybe it protects you. You, alone, in your little thick-skinned shell.
But does it help anyone else? Does it make the world better? Does it improve the situation?
Kindness, empathy, and love are too important to allow yourself to become thick-skinned or “tough” or whatever other macho buzzwords you want to use. Yes, life is difficult. It is often painful, complicated, overwhelming, and full of storms that are so trying to weather.
But I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that the solution here is not to be tough. Strength is obsessed over, but that kind of strength isn’t a strength at all.
Kindness, empathy, and love are too valuable. And they often come from a place of “weakness.” Hope doesn’t shine through when you’re thick-skinned or tough. That kind of attitude, that mentality, so easily walls you off from hope. It says “There is no hope, so steel yourself against the evils of the world.”
But there is hope. Always, everywhere, all the time. Sometimes, it’s really hard to see. Why make it even more difficult on yourself?
The desire to be thick-skinned, to toughen oneself against the trials and evils of the world, comes from a positive place. It’s a recognition that the world is often dark and painful, and a recognition that, as we know too well, and as all too often happens, that darkness and evil can destroy people.
But we don’t need a thick skin.
We just need to stop trying to go it alone.
We need to be able to reach out and make situations better. We need to communicate with people in the same situation, with people struggling through the same things — and we also need to communicate with people who have wildly different perspectives, ideas, backgrounds, and philosophies. We need to reach out beyond ourselves.
I need to accept that I, alone, do not have all the answers.
When the criticism crushes you, when life’s just too hard, when something small just hits you when you’re at your most vulnerable and tosses you over the edge… reach out to someone. Don’t harden your heart against it — find help from others. There are people who love you, people who are rooting for you, people who are willing to give of themselves for your sake. So let them.
So where has this been a part of my own life? Let me run through some personal history, focusing on writing and criticism.
My first novel-length story, I wrote in eighth grade. I shared it with family, friends, friends of family, and an older published author who went to my church.
That last one was the most valuable. She shaped my writing from an early age, took me under her wing, and took me seriously even though I was a child reaching for the stars and falling far short.
That first novel, after getting back a lot of feedback, including some hefty criticism, I did end up scrapping. Not throwing in the trash out of frustration, but rewriting from scratch to improve. Taking those criticisms to heart, and trying to improve because of them.
That first novel completely transformed with the second rewrite. It was a different story, in a different world, with a completely new cast of characters. And even that wasn’t the end of the story. I ended up rewriting that one from scratch two more times! Completely scrapping around 90,000 words — twice — to reshape those characters and their story for the better.
And it still hasn’t gone published! It’s hanging out in my computer, and I’ve even written its follow-up — it was the first in a planned series — and that second book I’ve even fully rewritten once. One day, I hope, I’ll finish and publish that series. But that day is still a long ways away.
And that’s not even the half of it. All of that happened before I turned twenty-three, and I didn’t post the first chapter of Greysons online until I was twenty-seven. Since then I also:
Wrote another, completely different novel-length series starter, which I’ve since completely scrapped except for the characters and basic story concept, to rewrite from the ground up, thanks to very valuable and sometimes harsh criticism. It’s a superhero story! And I’m super (ha!) excited for it, but boy does it need a lot of work before it’s ready for the light of day. Thank goodness for criticism!
Wrote yet another completely different novel that I shared with my sister. And she had a fascinating perspective of a different journey for the main character. That would drastically alter the story I’d written, and would change so much… but she was right. It’s a much more compelling journey, and brings the story as I’d planned it home to a much stronger thematic core. So! I’m rewriting that, making a massive change to the main character’s arc that changes the whole story. And it’s really exciting! It wouldn’t be this good if not for my sister.
Completely changed the ending of Greysons Arc I. Yup, I had planned a completely different final few chapters. But when I sent one of those chapters to my sister for review, she told me that Caleb’s decision at the end of that chapter was “stupid.” And thankfully, we were able to discuss it, and Greysons took on a whole different form — one that made the second Arc and second book what they are today. Caleb’s trip to Sunset Square, his Fracturing, his subsequent return to training with Mister Midnight? None of that would have happened if my sister hadn’t told me Caleb was being stupid.
Massively reworked my plans for the final Arc of Greysons. I had it all planned in advance and shared those plans with, again, my sister. And she had a LOT of thoughts. The conversation was sometimes rather unpleasant, as I instinctively resisted a lot of the potential and proposed changes… but in time, it was pretty clear there was a better way to go than the plan I’d come up with all alone. I love how Greysons ends, I love what happens with the main villain, I love the varying objectives the different main character teams have, and it wouldn’t have been like that if I’d let myself resist criticism and change.
There’s more. I’m sure there’s more. Of course there’s more! That’s why I have a whole other post planned just to talk about my writing journey, unpublished work, and how experience and valuable insights, critiques, and even harsh criticism, have helped shaped where I am today. None of this could happen alone. And none of this could have happened if I’d adopted a “thick-skinned” mentality, hardening myself against the harshness of the world or the harshness of people’s words. Words can hurt, often far more than any physical blow — and people have known that since the beginning of time. There’s a whole book of the Bible practically dedicated to being mindful of our words and how dangerous and evil words alone can be (Proverbs), and even Jesus warned us against misusing our words.
So I get the pain of harsh critiques, of bullies and jerks who just say mean things to try and break people down, of how even well-meaning but harshly-worded critique can crush a person’s soul.
But even so. Don’t harden your heart. Don’t put on a thick shell to repel the potential for pain.
Be vulnerable. Let your guard down. Find people who can lift you up and help support you when the cruelty of the world is too much to bear. Find people who have been through what you’re facing, people who can empathize with your pain and help you find the hope in the midst of it. Have a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, and don’t be shy about hugs. Hugs are great. They heal the soul. If you’re a dog owner, pet your dog. It does wonders for the heart.
Don’t face the world alone. And don’t face the world hardened against it. It’s complicated, messy, painful, and challenging. But there is too much potential for beauty and goodness, too much kindness and love, and too much that can help us grow, help us become better and wiser and kinder ourselves, to not let people in.
Not all criticism is good. But you’ll miss the good stuff if you become too toughened against the bad. And you’ll never figure it all out, sort it all out, make sense of it all alone.
So don’t go it alone. Don’t ever go it alone.