It's not fun, it doesn't feel good, and it's not going to be easy. David Mitchell, Black Swan Green, said,
"If you show someone something you've written, you give them a sharpened stake, lie down in your coffin, and say, 'When you're ready'."
If you haven't taken this critical (deplorable) step in your quest to become (que superhero overtones) the Greatest Writer in the Universe, pay close attention to this quote ... it's true, and, just like the death of Dracula, you'll feel the torture of every negative word they speak (or write). Beware, my friends, this road you've chosen to embark upon is one filled with the flayed skin of writers, and the continual, mutalation of their souls. Criticism to the writer is it's own kind of hell. Beware! You must have the skin of a German Panzer to withstand what must be endured.
And it must be endured, too. If you don't let anyone read your work before you attempt to publish, be it self publishing or through a traditional publishing house, you will be doing yourself and your novel a great disservice. It doesn't matter how many times you have re-written your story. It doesn't matter if you edited the holy crap out of it and found it flawless. Someone, somewhere will find something that needs to change within your work.
It's Okay.
You know why it's okay? Because people (other than mom, God love her) can pick out those places in your narrative that are flimsy and weak. If your dialogue is too boring to keep someone reading, you need to know about it. They (your critics) will find information dumps where you thought you had none, and stupid, dumb, inconsistencies that you know shouldn't be there. In short, taking those criticisms will make your writing stronger, better, more efficient, and just freakin' awesome (like the 6 million dollar man).
But at what cost? Is there a cost (shifty eyes) ... yes. There may be a cost involved.
The Problem With Criticism
So let's say you've already spent countless hours researching for your novel. Now you've gotten twenty, fulfilling chapters pumped out, and have decided that you want others to take a look at it. You're sold on your work. You love your work. It's your baby. You spoon fed it it's first few days ... changed it's dirty diapers, burped the little farts out of it. I bet you remember the day when the chapters started to fly from your fingers, too. Wasn't that a wonderful day? Writing became quick and furious for you, and you watched your baby grow.
Now you're letting other people hold that baby, and they don't quite think so much of it as you do. You thought it was damn near flawless, little to no blemish. But the critics? Oh man, they've all but dissected it, chewed it up, spat it out, and became a little green because it just didn't settle too well (I've now moved from the baby metaphor to food ... do not eat babies, please ... unless they are scrambled with cheese and from a chicken).
Then they will rattle off all of these "rules" of writing that you've unknowingly broken. "Poor thing," they say, "you obviously didn't know ... why would you have written such [insert negative term referring to your writing] if you had known?" They mention your use of adverbs, and then your dialogue tags ... oh God, what have I done? I've used "mumbled" instead of "said"!
You've discovered there are all these rules that you should've been paying attention to, and that perfect little baby looks a little more like an Orc (Balruk, runny bowels, he is now called) than a human. Your heart it broken; you've been torn down, and you don't think you have the courage to pick yourself back up again (one dude even said your work sucked so much that he couldn't read it all). Perhaps, like me, you contemplated throwing it all away (if I'm that bad, why should I be a writer in the first place?).
Your work is worth it, that's why. All those tears, all that hatred and self-loathing ... worth it.
Because you've got a damn good book, and you freakin' know it. Take the criticisms that are helpful. Employ the ones that really make your work to shine. Take the painful criticisms and learn from them. But don't get bogged down by them. Make sure you keep pushing forward, ever progressing to that lofty goal of being a working writer (and all the things that means to you).
I felt like life had ended. While writing my novel, He the Hallowed, I fell into something like I've described above. For a day or so I thought I needed to really follow all these rules people kept throwing at me. Was I really that bad of a writer? Had I not paid attention to the books I read as research? I picked up a couple of best sellers from my private library (book shelf) and flipped through them.
Do you know what I found?
Authors who disobeyed the almighty "rules", that's what. So be careful that you don't listen to every word that your constructive critics suggest. What they say, no matter how they say it, doesn't make them unaltered laws that you have to follow. I'll leave you with another quote to simmer on until next time:
"In theory it was, around now, Literature. Susan hated Literature. She'd much prefer to read a good book." -Terry Pratchett, Soul of Music
Okay, one more:
"If critics say your work stinks it's because they want it to stink and they make it stink by scaring you into conformity with their comfortable little standards. Standards so low that they can no longer be considered "dangerous" but set in place in their compartmental understandings." - Jack Kerouac
For more quotes on novels and criticisms, check this out (all of the above quotes were derived from goodreads). Sharing this stuff encourages me to write it. If you feel encouraged by what I write, please follow me and sp-sp-sp-spread the word!
What do you think of criticism? Have you ran into other writers that preach "rules" like a Southern Baptist on the sinner's prayer? Let us know about it in the comments below.
