By Butch Freedman
As a long-time writer, and one who has received his share of rejection, I am sensitive to the pain that criticism can bring. In the past, I’ve let it impact both my writing and my sense of self. Criticism, if delivered in a mean-spirited or dismissive manner, can make the receiver immediately defensive, even angry. But (and this is a major but), a good writer or any person who wants to do their work well, has to learn how to accept and even embrace criticism. If you can’t listen to well-intentioned critiques of your work, you’re doomed to keep making the same mistakes over and over. Maybe you can get by, but you won’t improve. Our current president is the prime example of a person who not only doesn’t accept criticism, but won’t even allow it to be voiced. In his first term he fired all the members of his cabinet who dared to differ with him, with predictably horrendous results for the country. In this second nightmare term, he’s made sure to only hire those who apparently swore to never oppose him on any matter. If you can stomach it, watch the video of any of his cabinet meetings, where the sycophants line up to heap undue praise on the predator-in-chief. In this, trump is unlike any president, republican or democrat, in recent memory. Yes, even Nixon. Eventually, his own hubris will destroy him. It can’t happen too quickly. But enough said about that dreadful person. The subject here is criticism.
Part of the problem lies in the word itself. Criticism has a negative feel. In my writing workshops, we use the term feedback instead. That usage emphasizes helpfulness and an interest in improvement of the work under consideration. When responding to a piece of writing we always begin with positive feedback; what do we like in the work, what is effective, what connects with the reader, and why? Only then can we move on to where the piece might be improved, where a different word or phrasing might be used, where the reader is unclear about the writer’s intent. And what does the writer do while listening to this feedback? They stay quiet and take it in, without defensiveness. Which does not mean that all feedback is accepted. In the end it’s the writer’s work and they get to decide which feedback is worth accepting and which isn’t. It’s a collaborative effort between writer and reader. And it should never feel hurtful. We all, in this life, are required to choose our words thoughtfully and carefully. Even the president. But apparently, he’s never learned this lesson, and clearly doesn’t care about hurting others. (Oops, sorry. Said I wouldn’t go there again.) My point here is that positive feedback helps, whereas, negativity and negative people deserve no hearing.
One of the simple early lessons I learned as a novice teacher of writing, was to not mark up a student’s paper with my red pencil. To start with, red is a hostile color, except in fire, engines, and the student’s first reaction to receiving such a spotted mess, is to push it aside or tear the offending text into tiny pieces. It’s much more effective, and kinder, I discovered to write some words of encouragement, and, where necessary, mark up, in blue ink, some places where improvement or correction could be made. This method or attitude works well in parenting also. Children who are constantly criticized, tend to grow up to be adults who are unable to consider other people’s feelings. Or become president. (There I go again.)
As a parent, a teacher, and a hopefully decent human being, I’ve had to learn to both accept useful feedback, and provide it where I can. I’ll remind myself of that the next time I receive a rejection letter, or send comments to a fellow writer. After all, words do matter.
