My husband Bill greatly enjoys watching a show called Red Letter Media, a show in which a group of men sit around a table and critique the worst movies they can find. Though Bill and I have a lot in common, and I occasionally laugh at what might be construed as “guy humor,” something about this show gets to me and I considered what that was. Then, it hit me. Though the movies the group watches have some pretty obvious flaws, I’m uncomfortable seeing another writer’s work be laughed at and criticized.
Though I suspect I take a lot more pride in my work than perhaps the producers of some of these movies do, it is easy to put myself in their shoes, and I cringe at the idea of having my own writing taken apart in a similar way. As writers, we learn to turn off the inner critic inside of us, as this is the only way in which we can put our hearts on the line and tell our stories. Fear of failure is paralyzing, so as authors, we learn to put such fears aside. I suggested to Bill that perhaps this is why I can’t get into the show the way he does. He gave me some food for thought I wasn’t expecting.
In Bill’s own words:
If I say the odds on a coin toss are 50/50, does that mean when you flip that coin, half of it will be heads and half will be tails?
No.
And why that is should be obvious enough. Coin flips in the abstract are different from any actual flip. What people don’t appreciate is that all matters of opinion are the same in this way.
A critic does nothing but apply his experience of an art ‘probablistically.’ He is generally talking about something more subtle than heads-or-tails, but if he values tight plotting, it is because tight plotting has been associated with a “successful” story more often than not. Complex characters, expressive yet succinct use of language? Same thing.
But we also know a story may be “successful” without all these things (among others), or without them in equal measure, and indeed it is hard to think that it is even possible to be coherent as a story and have them in every respect. Do you really want elaborate, sensitive craftsmanship in all our characters? Wouldn’t a relentlessly witty book get annoying?
Probably.
And we all know stories that tick the critical boxes, without obviously being mechanical or going too far, but they don’t do anything for us. Even the most technically minded critics can field stories from their experience that adds up to less than the sum of their parts.
When a critic reads a story and picks up on the plotting, the characters, or what-have-you, it is important to understand they are rationalizing their experiences, and not laying down the necessities of yours. They are curve-fitting a story, not legislating what or how you or the next author should write to tell a good story.
The better sort of critic will recognize this, and admit when an actual story – as opposed to one in the abstract – ‘works’ as art or entertainment regardless of any currently accepted standards or preferences.
Criticism itself is a kind of art. Recognize that, as an artist, you are their critic and your story evaluates them as much as they evaluate it. Do not let them intimidate you.
Reading this, I was instantly comforted. Though Bill is often a man of few words, his mind is hard at work, and though not an author himself, he has grasped the underlying concept of critiquing in a way I don’t always consider.
Reviewers, agents, and editors rely on a set of known guidelines when critiquing and acquiring authors’ works, and the fast-paced world that we live in today, that typically favors what they know will sell. As authors looking to sell our work, we too must strive to meet the desires of our audience. If we’re seeking to earn a living, this is our best method of attack. But what if we want to do more?
It’s taken me years to shut off the internal critic in my mind. Many writers will tell you they fight against it constantly, never feeling as though their book is good enough, wondering if they can make the current manuscript as good as the last. Beyond that, we’re told we must figure out where our work fits into the industry as a whole, compare it to that of other authors. What if it doesn’t? Isn’t the idea of being creative to create something unique? Is doing so the right thing to do? With so many fears and doubts about a strange and subjective industry floating about in one’s mind, how can the internal editor possibly be turned off?
I return to Bill’s thoughts, so simple and straightforward. My mind has a way of going all over the place, particularly when it involves my writing, whereas he seems to have a clear perspective on the matter.
Criticism itself is a kind of art. Recognize that, as an artist, your are their critic and your story evaluates them as much as they evaluate it. Do not let them intimidate you.
I plan on taking these words to heart!
