It takes courage to share your writing with the world because everyone has something to say, sometimes in ways that nurture, sometimes in ways that scorch.
Early in my writing days, I received some unexpected praise from a mentor-author. When I thanked him, he must have heard my embarrassment. He shot back, "As a writer, praise is rare, criticism abounds. So take my praise and enjoy it."
It wouldn't take long before I discovered what he meant about the critics.
When it comes to art, everyone is a critic, and sometimes very vocal. But we shouldn't forget that art is in the eye, the heart, and the ear, of the beholder.
Case in point. The performances of Maria Callas, the great soprano, sometimes ended with angry operagoers throwing rotten vegetables onto the stage. As legend tells it, the great Callas, with diva-like composure, simply picked them up and threw them back.
While not the approach I would choose, I admire Maria Callas' aplomb. Most of all, I admire her refusal to give up.
As for those operagoers attending concerts, pockets stuffed with zucchini and cabbage? That is something I will never understand.
Nor will I ever fully understand my own very small, yet very public, "rotten-veggie-Maria-Callas-moment". There was no unruly mob smelling like garden compost. There was just one publisher with a microphone and a whole lot of anger.
And it was my writing that had made him mad!
The event was billed as an opportunity for writers to pitch to a panel of six different publishers, hosted by the arts editor of a well-known magazine.
Great idea! Despite it being a public pitch in a crowd that numbered 200 by the time I squeezed my way through to an empty seat.
I wanted to escape. But I had signed up, prepared my pitch, and rehearsed it with seasoned writers. Surely I was ready.
One at a time, writers were called to stand up at their seat and launch a 5-minute pitch to the panel on the stage at the front of the room.
One of the writers cracked jokes. The jokes were met with an icy, cringe-inducing silence. I shrank in empathy for him.
Well, at least I had prepared a real pitch, with a hook, some characterization, conflict, a burning story question. I'd even practiced it out loud to avoid stumbling. Surely I was ready.
My turn. One deep, tummy shaking breath, then I stood.
This was a pitch for my first novel, a love story from the south of France, where I had lived for years, a story of three friends, unrequited love, tragedy with a twist that allowed the lovers to reunite in their senior years.
The reaction was swift. A red-faced publisher at the far end of the panel shook his fist. His outburst, "I feel manipulated," that he yelled into the microphone exploded through the room.
Every cell in my body shook but I was frozen in place. The publisher continued to berate me for willful manipulation. And as he did, the size of the crowd seemed to swell as I seemed to shrink.
Finally, the host intervened. "Thank you," he said, repeating it several times before the irate publisher finally shut up. Then a big clearing of the throat. "Yes, well, your house," the host said speaking directly to the angry publisher, "your house publishes children’s book. So really Irene's book is not for you."
A small mercy, for sure. Unfortunately though, I was still standing, in the middle of the crowd, with all 200 pairs of their eyes boring straight through me.
Then the voice of another publisher. She said, "I'll look at your work." Her house wasn't publishing my kind of story either, but thankfully it gave me permission to force a smile and slink out of sight, back down in my seat.
Later, outside in the bright afternoon sun, my every step felt weighted. I couldn't get the shaming out of my head. Worse, a small inner voice hissed: he's right. Your work is manipulative. It's trash. You're not even smart enough to recognize it.
And there it was: an ugly seed of doubt, spreading fast. I'm no good. I'll never try again. I quit.
Despite some shimmer of understanding at the back of my mind that the publisher's admonition had something to do with him being triggered at the idea of a love story between elders, the seed of doubt had taken hold.
When I got home, I hid my story. And I stopped writing, stuffing my days instead with as much nothingness as they could hold.
Then somehow, from the other side of the country, my sister got wind of things.
We weren't that close, my sister and I. She had been the family star, an opera singer, athlete, fashionista, and utterly beautiful. Me? I was the messy tomboy of a little sister. Our difference in age separated us geographically long before any adult friendship could take hold. Then she was diagnosed with a brain tumor. On the operating table she suffered a surgical mishap that left her half-paralyzed and unable to speak.
Still, she got wind of things. And with her one good hand, she painstakingly wrote a long letter of support.
That one nurturing voice from my sister, from an artist who deeply understood the destructive nature of self-doubt, was the most precious vote of confidence I ever received. It allowed me to shake the doubt from my mind and toss it aside.
Years later, my mother also succumbed to the poison of self-doubt, when she almost gave up on the book we were writing together.
Again, my sister returned. This time as memory. Her words: Don't let anything stop you. My dear, beautiful, once-proud sister who, not long before she died, sang a final concert, strapped into her wheelchair like a broken sparrow.
Now it was my turn to encourage my mother, to stand firm against doubt, and to say, "yes, we can do this."
When faced with destructive self-doubt, we all need support. Either from inner strength, or from someone who understands, a trusted voice that we can take into our hearts and make our own. A voice to bring us back to our creativity.
Have you struggled with crippling doubt or shame regarding your writing? Did you find that one precious voice? Or did something else shine a light to guide your way?
* * *
Stay, Breathe with Me: The Gift of Compassionate Medicine
by Helen Allison and Irene Allison
will be released by She Writes Press, June 2016
https://www.facebook.com/ireneallisonauthor/
Sheila, thank you! Yes, me too, I thought if was pretty funny that people would bring rotten veggies to a concert! And I lived in Italy. I love Italians and I always found them to be a very empathetic, caring people. The veggies must have something to do with their "dark" side!
Elaine, thank you! Yes, I was aghast too! And really didn't understand it. And yes, of course, fiction is all about manipulation. And normally readers love to be manipulated, made to laugh and cry and be scared and thrilled and fulfilled and ...
But isn't it funny how certain reactions can have such an impact even when we know somewhere deep inside that it has nothing to do with us! Writers need to be brave and wear a lot of armour!
Nina, what a funny-sad story you've shared here, with confusion and pathos and humour. Loved it! And I love the title of your recent memoir, which I've just picked up on my kindle and very much look forward to reading. BTW, my mother helped set up the first palliative unit in Canada back in 1974. Cheers!
Thank you, Sonya. As Rumi says, "If you are irritated by every rub, how will you be polished?" Sure enough, but that getting rubbed part is really hard!
Karen, thank you for your kind words. I know that you know all about courage, the courage to write our truth, and the courage to share it with the world.
Yes, we're in this together, and given the size of this big country, not really so far apart. Maybe some writers' festivals or other events? Could be wonderful. Take care!
I am aghast at what that publisher said to you. Someone like that should not ever be invited to another pitch event--he obviously had no patience or compassion for young writers. But I find his object to "manipulation" puzzling. Aren't all writers manipulators? That's what we do. We manipulate readers into believing our character are real. We manipulate them into caring what happens to them, into fully investing themselves in the world we've created. If we didn't, no one would bother to read our work. Manipulation isn't always a bad thing--it's what readers turn to fiction for!
Bella, thank you. I'm touched you found a line in my blog that really resonates with you. That's wonderful for me too!
The book isn't out until June (pre-orders maybe a month before). Thank you for asking!
Lois, thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it.
Kathryn, kudos to you for learning this lesson about the critics early on in your career! And I'll bet your readers are happy too, because you refused to give up.
As you mention, it is amazing how sometimes people have opinions and negative criticism without even having read something!?! They must be "psychic" critics!
Your experience is inspiring, with insight for us all. Thank you for sharing it!
Trudi, and a heart hug back to you. Thank you!
Thank you, Erin. Yes, that inner voice can be absolutely treacherous! When I hear it now, I try to remember to tell it, "okay, thanks for sharing". Then move on. When it won't shut up, it helps to share with supportive others. Like here for example! How lucky we are to have this community!
Thank you, Dana!
Elaine, thank you for your kind words. Yes, indeed, my sister's courage and determination was an amazing gift, which I will never forget.
Thank you, Jenni!
Hope, thank you for your comments. I'm delighted my post can be of use to your students. That warms my heart!
Beautifully expressed, thank you. I am so looking forward to reading your and your mother's book.
Jan, the young writer that you are mentoring is lucky indeed. We all need mentors, to show us the way, to be honest, and to whisper encouragement. Especially mentors who are mindful and caring with feedback, like you. And as you say, words carry enormous power. Thank you!
Beautiful sentiment and beautifully written. I'm working as a mentor for a young writer. I try so hard to walk the line between honest feedback, instructive suggestion, and praise for improvement. Words carry such weight. May we never forget their importance. Thank you.
This is a beautiful article about persistence overcoming self-doubt. And about not letting others instill self-doubt in us. Thank you for sharing it, Irene. I'm going to pass it along to my students.
Thank you for this piece on your pitch. That crippling self- doubt is murderous to writers. Your sister's support is a magnificent tool that few have available, however there is always that one someone who is always there telling us we have talent--and to never stop writing. I am so glad you took her advice.
Lovely post, Irene. :)
Thank you so very much. I am my own worst critic and must fight to shelve the thoughts that threaten to stop me. The voice I need to find must be my own.
My heart goes out to you. I love the story of intergenerational support. Big hug.
Irene
in my 44 year writing career I have had a LOT of critics and some said horrible things about my books...when I was younger I let it sway and affect me. No longer. I, like you, even stuck a book manuscript away in a drawer for 20 years because an editor didn't like it...now it's my best-selling, award winning book (Dinosaur Lake). Over the years I realized some people would hate what I wrote; not always because it wasn't good but because it triggered something "in them"...jealousy, unhappiness with themselves or...well, anything. Early on I wrote horror and people -without even reading a word- would say things like "Ooh, how can you write that awful stuff!", etc. Partly because of that, these days I call myself a storyteller.
It took me many years and many books (I've published 22 now since 1984) to see that no matter what a person thinks or says about my writing..."It's ONLY THEIR OPINION, that's all. One person's opinion. And don't we all like or dislike different things? So now a one star review, or someone ranting on about piddly things wrong in my books don't bother me. Who are they anyway...a god? No, just one human being. Sometimes an unhappy human being.
That publisher that did that to you probably had his comeuppance eventually...they always do. Like now? I self-publish and no longer have to put up with a gatekeeper humiliating or using me. I wonder where that publisher is now? Hmmm.
Thank you! Just love this piece!