When Criticism breeds Strength

I’ll never forget the day I sat through my first peer critique in college. It was my first creative writing course and I’d spent weeks agonizing over what to write. I ended up with a corny children’s bedtime story, that while fun to write, I was terrified to show others and hear what they truly thought. Not only did I make myself sick over it, I ended up calling one of my closest guy friends and filling his voicemail with tears because there was no doubt in my mind the entire class would hate it. It was the first time I’d ever contemplated skipping class.

The way the critique worked was simple: everyone got a copy of my story the class prior to my critique date. On judgment day I had to read the story aloud and then sit silently while each of my classmates commented on what worked for them and what didn’t. If I opened my mouth to defend or explain myself, I’d be docked points; afterwards I could ask a couple of questions for clarification on anything that was said.

To be honest, it was less traumatic an event than I’d made it out to be and I’ve since adopted the credo “The fear of the thing is worse than the thing itself.” Many of my classmates really enjoyed the concept of my story and my professor suggested I learn more about writing for young readers because he thought I had talent in that direction. A classmate even asked to take my story home for his son.

The reason I remember that day so vividly is because it is the day I learned the value of constructive criticism. It also formed the first layer of skin I would require to make my way as a writer. I’ve gone through many more critiques since then, some more pleasant than others, but I quickly discovered that I learn more from having someone point out my weak spots than by receiving pats on the back. I need honest eyes because I tend to overlook or justify obvious flaws in my storytelling. It also helped prepare me for the rejection slips that would later come my way.

I believe learning how to handle critiques of my work early on has been one of the most beneficial lessons I’ve learned. It’s taught me to separate what is being said about my work from how I think about myself. It has also encouraged me to look at my writing through a different point of view. Because of this, it is much easier to pick up my pen and get to work rewriting after receiving a generic “Thank you, but not today.”

And besides, I’ve had enough Yeses to prove to me that when I put my mind to it, I’ve got what it takes to stay in this game.

The Writer’s Dream

Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and your plans will succeed. Prov. 16:2

I can’t speak for everyone, but sometimes I think we tend to view God like one the gods of Olympus — as a self-important man sitting on his throne watching, waiting for us to slip up so he can laugh at our folly and drive us further into the mud. We question our every action, wrestle with each decision, terrified we’re going to choose poorly.

Shouldn’t it be the opposite? Ours is a God of creation. Not destruction. Though He offers us guidelines in how we should live, when it comes to certain decisions, such as which opportunities we should pursue, he simply leaves it up to us.

I have to be honest. I tend to overly obsess about whether a project I’m about to embark on is God’s will or mine. Will I use the right words? Will my point get across? Will anyone even like it? I get so worried about making a mistake I become too terrified to step out. I use that fear as a crutch, as an excuse to stay in one place. Better to stand still and be miserable than try, fail, and disappoint others or — more specifically — myself. Somehow I doubt that’s what God has in mind for me. In fact, I believe I’ve been looking at things all wrong for far too long now.

If I’m truly passionate about something could it be because it’s already been “approved”? Could it be that I have these dreams because God placed them in my heart the day He spoke me into existence? A friend of mine recently shared that our dreams aren’t just ours — they’re God’s. They aren’t meant solely for our pleasure, but for the blessing of others as well. Taking that to its logical conclusion, if I refuse to pursue a dream because of fear I could very well be depriving someone else of a blessing.

So when Solomon says to commit to the Lord whatever I do, he’s not saying I need to approach God like a broken beggar asking for permission to move forward; he’s saying I need to give back to the Lord what is already his. To take the focus off of me and my expectations. To trust that what God has promised to do through me will be done. And then go to work. The dream won’t be realized overnight. It may take years of hard work, patience, and perseverance, but if there’s one thing that I can be sure of it’s this: God’s plans never fail and I am in good hands.

The Power of Point of View

Be shepherds of God’s flock that is under your care, watching over them — not because you must, but because you are willing, as God wants you to be; not pursuing dishonest gain, but eager to serve… I Peter 5:2

You can always tell where I’ve been by the trail of books strewn about my apartment. I’m someone who will read three novels at a given time, plus a book on writing, and whatever manuscript I’m editing. I’m not sure how I manage it, but somehow I’m able to keep all the storylines straight. This morning as I hurried out the door to meet my brother for our morning run I noticed a book on my couch-side table: The Power of Point of View by Alicia Rasley.

One of the first things driven into our heads as new writers is Point of View. Whose eyes are we seeing the story through? How do a character’s perceptions and motives color the events unfolding? Is he a trustworthy narrator? Do past hurts prevent her from building strong relationships with others? I would argue that point of view is one the most important aspects of a story, next to the story itself. It determines how I as a reader will respond to the world unfolding before me.

For some reason the book on the table brought to mind a passage I’d opened my Bible to last night before turning out the light. In it Peter was addressing the elders of the church about how they should lead, and as I read through the chapter I found myself inspecting my own ministries, both inside and outside the church. I realized that Peter was encouraging his fellow elders to check their personal point of view and it forced me to ask myself, “What is my point of view when it comes to writing? What are my motives?”

I view my writing as a ministry, and words as an incredibly powerful tool. Through my writing I can encourage others, but I can also tear them down. I can inspire others towards greatness, but I can also lead them to anger and bitterness — recent news stories and the comments posted afterwards are a perfect example of that. In many cases, I write because I love to write. It’s something I am passionate about. But there are days when it becomes an obligation, and like any ministry, once that happens I lose my effectiveness. I might as well be tossing random letters into the void for all the good its doing me and my readers.

Starting today I’ve decided to ask myself “Why am I writing today?” when I sit down at my keyboard. If it’s for recognition or a paycheck, I’ll close my laptop and find something more productive to do with my time. However, if I can honestly look at my reflection in the monitor and say, “I’m writing because I’ve been called to write and it’s something I want to do regardless of whether I receive credit for it or not,” then I believe I’ll receive a double blessing: Not only will I be doing something out of love, but I won’t have to worry about the outcome because my ego will have been taken completely out of the equation.