by Anne R. Allen
Early in my writing career, I wrote in secret — and hardly ever finished anything. If I got to the point where I could write “the end” on a piece, I’d bury it in a drawer. I was incapable of writing a whole novel. I always stopped after the first 40 pages or so. That went on for decades. The only things I finished were a few plays. That was because directors and actors were waiting for them, so I had deadlines
I felt unworthy of calling myself a “real writer.” (BWT, if you write and you’re not a wooden puppet carved by an old Italian guy named Gepetto, you’re a real writer. ???? )
The Creativity Wound
So where did my feeling of unworthiness come from?
I had what’s called a “creativity wound.” That’s a term I first saw in a piece by Grant Faulkner on Jane Friedman’s blog in 2018. He talked about the psychological wound that’s inflicted when someone you trust says harsh, negative things about your creative work.
As Grant Faulkner wrote: “We put our souls, the meaning of our lives, into the things we create, whether they are large or small works, and when the world rebuffs us, or is outright hostile, the pain is such that it might as well be a flesh wound. In fact, it sometimes might be better to have a flesh wound.”
He talked about the writing class he took with a famous author who ridiculed his work — and his personality — and even wrote obscenities in the margins of his manuscript.
Obviously, this was thoroughly reprehensible behavior from the famous author. There is never a reason for sadism in teaching a creative art.
That author’s cruelty wounded Faulkner so deeply he stopped writing. He says he “lay on the couch watching TV…my brain looping through her scissoring comments again and again.”
Are You One of the Walking Wounded?
You may not realize you’re nursing a creative wound like Faulkner’s. Maybe you weren’t overtly savaged. Some wounds can also come from little cuts inflicted over time.
You may not realize the wound is unhealed and festering in your subconscious. Maybe you simply feel blocked, or unable to maintain interest in your WIP when it gets to a certain point.
Or maybe you finish your creative writing projects, but never send them out or get them critiqued.
And a lot of wounded writers get all the way to finishing a book and self-publishing it. But they never learn how to get that book into the hands of readers. They self-publish to avoid the inevitable rejections that come with hunting for a publisher — but do no marketing. The book sits on their unfinished Amazon author page, unnoticed and unread.
Or worse, they allow themselves to be scammed by a bogus publisher rather than find out how the real, professional publishing world works. The book gets printed — but not actually published — by some fly-by-night huckster, and the author has 800 copies, full of typos, molding in the garage.
These are all mind games writers play to tell themselves they’re not “real writers.” They didn’t fail because they didn’t try. This is the subconscious protecting itself from suffering another creativity wound.
Facing Your Creativity Wound
It helps to dig into your subconscious to remember the exact thing that wounded you. Yes, it hurts, and it will bring up old, unhealed pain.
But the only way to heal that wound is to bring it out in the open.
It helps a lot to know the source of your creativity wound. Considering the source is always a good plan when you get a nasty, unhelpful critique.
People have many reasons for cruelty, and they’re almost never generated by the victim. I’m sure the writer who savaged Faulkner had something traumatic going on in her life that had nothing to do with him. But for some reason, his work triggered her rage, which came out as pointless cruelty.
On the other hand, lots of writers have survived savage critiques. While the experience is unpleasant, it doesn’t leave a permanent creativity wound in most people. This is often because the writers do indeed consider the source and realize that the nastiness was all about the person giving the critique and not about their work.
Or the writer may realize the critiquer has rotten taste and she wouldn’t want to be on his list of favorites anyway. 🙂
But when the cut comes from somebody we trust and look up to, that’s when we can feel “scissored” like Mr. Faulkner.
That Unhealed Creativity Wound May Come from Friends and Family
My creativity wound came early and was inflicted by my (well-meaning) parents. My parents were both highly critical, Ivy-League academics. They passed their own perfectionism onto my young self, thinking they were teaching me to have “high standards”
They didn’t understand that you don’t critique the work of an eight-year-old the way you critique something written by a eighteen-year-old college freshman.
For my parents, praise was reserved for authors published in The New Yorker, not an unskilled child.
Usually, I’d get A’s on my creative writing assignments in school, but the encouragement of my teachers wasn’t enough to offset my parents’ indifference.
So yeah, I had the creativity wound. Not one huge one like the one Grant Faulkner writes about, but lots of little cuts.
No matter how it’s inflicted, a creativity wound will fester if it’s not addressed..
Last spring I wrote about how often friends and family refuse to read our work. I think their reluctance probably has something to with wanting to avoid wounding us. They’re afraid what we write is crap, so they avoid having to tell us that by simply not reading it.
The Question of Talent
No matter what the source, harsh criticism can make you feel “untalented.” But it’s important to remember that “talent” is not the most important quality a professional writer needs. There are many that are more important, which I discuss in my post 8 Qualities that are More Important than Talent for Writing Success.
These aren’t “talents” you’re born with. They are skills you have to learn. I think what successful writers share is passion. If you have a passion for writing, you will develop the skills that people call “talent.”
Here are some of those skills:
1) Commitment and Patience
2) Empathy and Listening Skills
3) The Desire to Learn
4) The Ability to be Alone
5) Understanding the Marketplace
6) Passion
7) Gratitude
8) Persistence
Beware of Passing on Your Creativity Wound
I often recommend critique groups for new writers. They’re a great way to learn the ropes of the publishing industry and get feedback from your peers. Beta readers can provide valuable feedback too.
But beware! Sometimes critiquers pass their creativity wounds on to you. They’ll try to inflict on other creatives the same kind of wounds they suffered.
I have seen many writers devastated by a cruel critique or review. It’s important to realize that people in these situations — even professionals like agents and teachers — can push personal agendas that have nothing to do with your writing and everything to do with their own psychological issues.
I once witnessed a sadistic critique of a young man’s story at a writer’s conference. He ran out of the room to hide his rage and grief. I had to pray he wasn’t susceptible to depression, because the group had engaged in a kind of dog-pile attack that could have damaged him for life.
I realized later the workshop leader had probably been savaged that way himself. He had been writing for years, but never had a novel published and his work appeared in only a few obscure literary journals. I’m sure all that rejection wounded him terribly.
But his cruel critiques weren’t helping new writers grow. They were simply passing along his own creativity wound to newbie writers..
People can’t learn from what feels like an attack. They’ll just shut down. They may even shut down their creative life permanently, the way Grant Faulkner almost did.
That night I wrote a story about a young man at a writers’ conference who appears to have committed suicide after a toxic critique. It later became the inciting incident in my mystery Ghostwriters in the Sky..
Small Successes can Help Overcome a Creativity Wound
Obviously I kept writing in spite of my family’s indifference. My drive to create was powerful. But I wouldn’t have kept going if I hadn’t had some small successes
My first success came when I had a poem published in my prep school literary magazine.
Actually, calling it a magazine is a stretch. It was a stack of stapled mimeographed pages, which had the pretentious title, “Finnegan’s Awakening.” I still have some yellowed copies, with the faded purple ink barely readable.
The editor was a tough kid from Brooklyn — the foster child of the minister of a local church in our little Maine town. His name was Michael Ventura.
Yes, that Michael Ventura. He became a fiery journalist and film critic who co-founded L.A. Weekly.
Even in high school, we knew he was destined for big things. To me, he was James Dean and Kerouac rolled into one brilliant, tragic fifteen-year old.
I was an eighth-grader with a big tween-age crush. It took all the courage I had to submit a poem to his magazine.
But he liked it.
He said “Hey kid, you can write.”
So I became a published writer. In spite of my creativity wound. Yes, it was a mimeographed booklet put out by high school kids, but that small success kept me going.
I kept writing poems. Most of them were terrible, but you have to turn out a lot of terrible to get to good.
This is why I urge new writers to enter contests and send their short work to literary journals. Sometimes all it takes is a $25 honorable mention prize or a spot in the Southeast North Dakota Community College Literary Journal to get you going.
NaNoWriMo Can Help Overcome a Creativity Wound, but it’s Not For Everybody.
NaNoWriMo can give some writers the kind of “small success” I got from publishing my poem in the school literary magazine. Grant Faulkner is a big cheerleader for NaNoWriMo, and it worked magic for him. It can give writers the push to propel them ahead on their writing path, in spite of obstacles and wounds. Finishing a whole novel can be as exhilarating as your first publication.
NaNo forces you to keep putting the words down. It makes you ignore all those negative voices in your head saying “write what you know-keep in a single point of view-slaughter the adverbs-show don’t tell” and all the other half-truths that can keep you feeling paralyzed. Silencing them can make for real breakthroughs for a lot of writers.
If in the end you’ve written a whole novel, you are indeed a winner. 97% of people who try to write novels never finish them. If you’re in the 3%, that’s a personal success that can keep you going in spite of those wounds.
But it’s important to know that NaNo can have the opposite effect on some writers. It can make them feel like failures if they can’t write fast enough.
Studies show there’s a physiological explanation for the fact some people can’t engage in intense cerebral activity for long periods of time.
Researchers Paul W. Andrews, and J. Anderson Thomson Jr. showed there’s a link between the kind of deep thought needed to think through something complex, like plotting a novel, and the “rumination” that is a classic symptom of depression.
A person can get stuck in a dark part of the brain and can’t get out. So if you have tendency to depression or anxiety, and you are feeling your mood sinking during NaNoWriMo, take a breather.
How to Keep Critiques from Wounding You
I always say that critique groups and beta readers are great for feedback, but you can usually ignore their advice. See my post on 6 Ways a Critique Group Can Hurt Your Writing and 6 Ways They Can Help.
Instead, pay attention to what people react to and what doesn’t work for them. Their suggestions on how to fix the problems are usually wrong, but the important thing is they point out what parts need work.
And always remember that cruel or bullying remarks say more about the speaker than the victim. Don’t let the speaker’s wounds get passed on to you. Get more feedback from a different source. Even though that speaker never overcame their creativity wound, you can.
by Anne R. Allen (@annerallen) November 7, 2021
What about you, scriveners? Do you have a creativity wound? Are you still carrying it around? How did you overcome it? Do you think you may have passed your wound on to other writers?
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Hey Anne,
I sure do know some fabulous writers who suffered creativity wounds & are no longer writing. As for me, after writing all these years, I just keep going, whether published or not. I suppose it’s possible I suffer from a don’t-revise-enough wound.
CS–There certainly are different kinds of creativity wounds. But the only way to heal them is to keep writing (and revising 🙂 ) Persistence is a whole lot of what it means to be “talented.”
Outstanding piece, Anne! Gonna buy you a case of beer for this one. Creativity wounds? F@#$, I have a couple of amputations, but I keep on trying.
“These aren’t “talents” you’re born with. They are skills you have to learn. I think what successful writers share is passion. If you have a passion for writing, you will develop the skills that people call “talent.”
Great paragraph. I truly believe that very few “successful” writers have God-given “talent”. The winners in this game are, like you say, passionate, learn the biz, and never quit. Headed out to the liquor store now but will drop by Twitter for a shout-out.
Garry–I’ll be looking for that case of Molson’s in my mailbox. 🙂 Thanks much.
Anne—This sounds so awful! I’m sorry you had to struggle through this ego-lacerating experience.
I never set out to be a writer. I wanted to be an editor and achieved that. What happened was that one of authors I worked with had more assignments than he could handle, and asked me to write one of the stories he had contracted for. I declined but he was in a deadline crush, I was receiving the typical crappy publishing salary, and the extra money he offered was welcome. So I agreed to write the story and did. From there I “graduated” to paperback originals, and, after that, to hard cover.
In the 1960s paperback publishers needed books. I mostly wrote men’s adventure and romantic suspense. Others specialized in romance, sci-fi, mystery. There was no drama & no ego involved. Just sit down, do the job, get paid & write the next one. A very different age, indeed.
Ruth–What a great story! You didn’t have to claw your way into this profession like most of us. You were invited.. What a wonderful gift. Of course you had to actually be good at it once you got that invitation, and you passed with flying colors. But yes, that was a very different time.
Thank you so much for this post!! I was an English major in college 30+ years ago and got pretty much straight A’s in my major. HOWEVER….on the day of graduation when my wonderfully sweet, optimistic, loving father proudly bragged to one of my professors that maybe now I’d write the Next Great American Novel. Prof just looked at my dad and said something to the tune of, “I wouldn’t count on it.” I was mortified, and it took me more than 20 years to approach writing fiction again. Even though I always received wonderful marks, I felt like a fraud. Then I made the mistake of having a good friend review an early draft of my novel, and while she had some correct feedback, the way she presented it was very hurtful, and damaged my relationship with her for a good 6 months. The last few weeks I’ve been really insecure about my work again, so the timing of this couldn’t have been better. I may even write that professor a note to tell him what he did to me. But the good news is i”m stubborn…my novel WILL get published some day, despite what that crackpot thinks. Thanks for what you do.
Loring–What a devastating thing to say–and at your graduation! I suppose the professor thought he was steering you toward getting a good-paying day job instead of counting on the miracle of instant bestseller-dom, but boy did he approach it the wrong way. I can imagine it took a while to work through that one. And as for the “friend” who gave you a vicious critique, I had one of those too. Our friendship didn’t survive. Now I realize that when we ask a non-writer to critique our work, we have to give them very specific instructions. Otherwise, they can launch into Cruella de Vil mode, because that’s what they’ve seen in movies. In fact, maybe I should write some instructions for beta readers as a blogpost that writers can share when they ask for a beta-read.
Truly outstanding advice here, I’m really feeling it these days. I’ll be talking about Writer’s Block in January and my first thought was that it’s often not really a block, is it? Boom, this piece and I’m nodding like a bobblehead doll. Brava, Anne!
Will–Yes! I think a lot of cases of “writers’ block” are the result of a creativity wound. I’m glad I could add something to your January talk. (January is coming so much sooner than we think, isn’t it?)
Wow – I never experienced such crushing blows from really “mean” people. Geez! I have never joined any group with beta readers because I already knew that some people (agents) were interested in my work and others were not – which left me knowing it was too subjective on the part of the “reader” and I would get beta readers who liked it and those who would think my writing was junk. Soooo.. I learned how to write by hiring editors and they were invaluable. I know many people perhaps don’t have the money to invest in editors but that’s the road I took and am so happy I did. Their remarks were helpful and not “crushing” and I learned so very much. And, of course, I still use editors to this day and always will. I can’t see the forest for the trees. I need someone else’s eyes on my writing.
Patricia–It’s true that most editors are trained in giving helpful feedback instead of piling on toxic criticism. But there are no guarantees. I know writers who have suffered awful creativity wounds from “professional” editors. So the trick is to choose where we get our feedback very carefully. We absolutely need feedback, and it’s best to get it from several experienced sources before we throw our work on the mercy of the general public.
Boy did this post strike a nerve for me! So glad you shared it, Anne! :o))
My first creative wound was pretty funny… I was 16, had written a number of stories I called one-page, one-hand wonders in a section of the same name in an absurd men’s magazine.
At that time, I shared a small house with a theater guy from U of Neb. One night he brought home another theater guy who was pretty deep into that role. I was in the bedroom, assumed to be sleeping, when the other guy read one of my stories aloud, then trashed it with real relish. Boring, pretentious, poorly constructed – you name it. I listened and for every cut he made, I silently responded: It’s supposed to be that way! It’s meant to have that appearance! and so on.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, stomped into the living room in my jammies, and shouted, “What the hell do you expect for the readers of a magazine called Juggs??!!” :O))
When you said: “…pay attention to what people react to and what doesn’t work for them.” it reminded me of this one creative wound. The guy was a pretentious dork, but I took in what he had noticed, right or wrong, and put that to use in the next story. So, yeah, it can hurt, but it can also help — and the different perception you encourage here might also defuse/defang the creative wound.
Great post, Anne… you always give me new things to apply to my creative endeavors – writing and editing. Thank you!
Maria–Oh, my what a scene! You have to write that in a novel or story. I can picture the whole thing: writer cringing behind the door, hearing her work mocked by the pretentious theater guy. I spent 30 years in the theater, so I know that guy. Hilarious but painful.
I’d never heard the term “one hand wonders” but I certainly know what you’re talking about . 😉
Only three percent finish writing a book? Wow!
Most people who are mean tend to be damaged and want to inflict their pain on others, so makes sense someone with a creativity would would pass that on to others.
Alex–That’s why groups like the Insecure Writers Support Group are so helpful. IWSG provides a safe, mean-free space for writers to discuss their insecurities and wounds. Thanks for founding that wonderful group!
I feel I need to print this out and highlight the entire thing!
When I was 12 (in the 1980s), my English teacher falsely accused me of copying the class genius. We had chosen the same two characters to ‘compare and contrast’ from the book of short stories we were studying.
I am still terrified of accidentally copying someone else’s story in case I am hauled up in front of the class and accused again.
Come to think of it, that may even explain why I never, ever read short stories!
Thank you Anne for this article.
Tam–That same thing happened to me! I was brand new in a posh private school and the second week I was there, I got hauled into the principal’s office accused of cheating. It seemed the student sitting behind me had simply copied my answers to a quiz. I didn’t know the girl and we’d never even spoken. But I was treated as if I was equally responsible for her cheating. Awful.
It was a math quiz, so it didn’t stop me from reading short stories (a shame that you still don’t like them!) but it made me hate Algebra even more than I hated it before!
Anne, I can’t tell you how many students I’ve had in my class who are ‘refugees’ (their word) from other writing classes where the instructor and/or students were savage in their critiques. I found that all my students needed kindness first, and it didn’t matter what their age. It takes guts to write in *any* genre. Likewise, I stood on the students who began their critique of others’ work with negativity. Shut down that behaviour fast. Your post today has been wonderful.
Melodie–I do not understand why teachers think they can teach creative arts by being cruel. But there sure are a lot who do. And you did a huge service to all newbie writers by teaching students how to critique without a huge dump of negativity.
Anne, this is soooo true. Thank you!
My most memorable wound happened at a writing conference in Park City, UT. I’d finished a crummy first novel (although I didn’t know that at the time) and scored a 10-minute appointment with a big-name, well-respected editor, whose name I blotted from memory.
He lacerated it. I still remember his first words to me: “This is nowhere near ready for publication.” In all honesty, the book deserved the criticism. But I was crushed.
Back in my hotel room, I made an expensive long distance phone call (that’s how long ago this was) to Hollywood screenwriter Charles Eastman, who’d kindly befriended me at a different conference. Charles was an incredibly sweet, compassionate human being.
He told he he’d once submitted to that same editor and was crucified by him. I can’t tell you how that reassured me. If this editor found fault with Charles’s exquisite writing, which had been published by Atlantic Monthly, maybe he was just a mean man. I’ll always remember Charles for talking me off the ledge.
I’ve known many writers who were far more gifted than I was yet they couldn’t take rejection and quit. Who knows where they could have gone if they hadn’t given up?
I kept trying. Just call me Old Rhino Hide. My calluses were built on a solid foundation of scar tissue.
Debbie–Developing rhino hide is the name of the game, and you’ve managed to do it! Getting a “second opinion” by calling Charles Eastman was a stroke of genius. Excellent self-care, I guess you’d call it. Thank goodness you remembered that other people DO like your work, and then that you were able to reach one. Congrats on making it through a nasty time.
I think early on I received a few, which I used to help motivate me short term and long term. Short term, the nasty comments propelled me to write my one and only traditionally published novel (have self-pubbed since) as well as get two short stories published via e-zines.
Long term: I can’t tell you how many times people have called my writing “pornographic” and/or “straight up porn”. The anger over that and people spreading untrue rumors about me/the aforementioned book being porn has been that one motivating factor for the past 8+ years with everything that I write. I have learned and tweaked my writing skill set over the years because of those early nasty comments and I truly enjoy the type of stuff I write and will continue to write.
Also, regarding that first book. I got so annoyed at everyone mocking and insulting me about my writing (most notable “I couldn’t string more than two words together to make a coherent sentence’) that I actually put that insult into my acknowledgements and mocked it.
GB–I love it that you thanked the trolls in your acknowledgements! Very good way to turn your anger around and make it work for you. It’s true that erotic writing triggers a lot of readers. I think the best thing is to warn them that the “steam” level is very high before they read. Cover art can help with that when you’re already published.
It sounds as if you’ve developed rhino hide and found ways to turn nasty criticism around and make it work for you. Congratulations!
I refuse to call myself a writer until I get my first sale.
Yes, every rejection is a huge wound. Even when they come from the editor herself with a note saying, “please submit again”.
But if we want to become writers, we need to play the long game and keep trying. The more we write, the better we get.
I do agree with you 100%, entering writing contests is helpful. Some contest judges even give you feedback.
One thing I got from attending fan conferences and meeting famous authors in person is, when you hear their stories, you feel inspire. If it took C. J. Cherryh, and Brandon Sanderson ten years to break in the industry, I am in good company.
Thanks for the list of 8 skills. I can see four I need to work on.
And by the way, what an intriguing premise. Now I want to check out Ghostwriters in the Sky.
Another great post, Anne. Keep them coming.
Ingmar–You’re so right that publishing is a “long game.” The rejections are inevitable and we have to keep our eyes on the prize. Most “overnight sensations” have been at it for ten years or more. I do hope you pick up Ghostwriters in the Sky. It’s all about playing the long game.
What a profound article, Anne. I had never heard the term “creativity wound” before, but you made me feel the pain.
Fortunately for me, I can’t recall ever having been hammered for my writing. I have the most wonderful beta reader (my husband) who insists he loves everything I write, but then points out areas for improvement. My other readers are similar.
I respect and value constructive criticism. (Emphasis on the word “constructive.”) Having said that, my developmental editor has a blunt and forceful personality. Sometimes it’s hard to take, but I want her honest opinion and I filter it through what I know about her personality. She’s also not afraid to praise my work when she feels it deserves it. We’ve adjusted ourselves so we can work together to deliver the best product possible. So far, so good.
Kay–The term was new to me too. But it’s a useful tool to understand the process of learning to write. We can’t learn without helpful criticism, so we need to seek it out. But sometimes it’s tough to find a helpful, nurturing attitude in beta readers. But they’re out there. You’re lucky that your significant other is also a good critiquer. It’s probably because you get such support at home that you can deal with a gruff editor. We don’t want editors who let things slide, but we also need kindness.
Instructions for beta readers??? YES PLEASE!!!
Excellent idea to write a post on how to organize and instruct beta readers. I’ve done this myself on my two self-published novels, with eight readers each time – half of them writers and half of them non-writers. I like the mix because the non-writers always pick up rough spots in the work – they don’t know what the fix is, but they know it needs fixing. And after all, who will be our larger audience – writers or non-writers?
A friend in my town put together a critique group that meets monthly, and it has evolved into an indispensable group. She set up the rules right up front, two of the most important being: critiques do not get personal and at least one part of the piece must be highlighted as being outstanding. Even though we often are dealing with completely unprocessed rough drafts, there’s always a gem in them that warrant polishing.
This is the attitude I try to engender in my newsletter – “Natterings & Noodlings” – that no matter how well or poorly we handle the English language, our creative passion drives us to write things that must be written. And again, there’s always a gem hiding in the debris, just waiting for us to polish it. (And yes, I create a lot of debris, too, especially in the early stages when I let it all spill out.) I like to help others polish their gems – I’m eternally astonished at the concepts and angles that others present in their work. It truly is a joy.
Brass Castle–I’m a big believer in the “sandwich” critique: mention two positive things for every negative one. I learned that studying theater direction, but it works the same for writers. And you’re right–there’s always a “gem.” We used to joke saying “Wow. That was fantastic. You entered on cue and you didn’t fall down! but…” To be be serious, what you’re talking about is necessary if you really want a writer to hear you. Anything 100% negative will feel like an attack, and the writer will shut down.
Great piece Anne and so honest. My aunts worked in publishing and made it clear that I would have to be really good to get a story published. That was a negative. My brother is an academic and he read many of my stories and was encouraging. Four years back I had four big agents interested in my first novel, but I lost all of them. Lately I’ve been in a kind of limbo, not knowing if I will do hybrid or self-publish or try agents again. But I never stop writing. Thanks for your post.
Beth–Getting positive feedback from 4 agents is huge. Usually they don’t give any feedback these days. You may have problems with minor things that didn’t grab the agent’s final approval, but it sounds as if you’re more than halfway there. So let go of that early negativity and follow those agents! I know you write upmarket women’s fiction, which a lot of agents are looking for.
That’s a very encouraging post. My English teachers (instead of showing me how) used to tell me that I couldn’t write a story to save my life. It took me forty years to get to the point where I felt able to publish what I’d written. Now, seventeen novels later, every time I get a sale or a good review, I think of them. And what might have been.
Richard–Those early teachers must have been wounded writers themselves. What an awful thing to say to a young writer. I’m so glad to hear you overcame that wound and went on to have a whole lot more success than they ever did. 🙂
Oh. My. God. I had almost the identical experience. Actually no, mine was not that cruel, but boy did it last. I was 48 before I dared to write scifi even in secret. Kindred spirit. 🙁
I’m sorry you experienced such cruelty. You’ve proven them wrong, though. 😉
Very early on, I had this jerk latch on to me. He’d critiqued a chapter or two of my work and shredded every sentence. Of course, he had all the answers on how to fix it, yet he remained unpublished. It took quite a while for me to shake him. Thankfully, I also had a group of top-notch agents who requested and read all of my trunk novels. Each one offered valuable feedback. If it weren’t for their encouragement, who knows where I might’ve ended up.
Sue–“Yet he remained unpublished”–that says everything, doesn’t it? He probably suffered from toxic perfectionism and projected it onto you. Thank goodness you got rid of him. I’ve heard from other writers who had stalkers who came out of online critique groups. Truly unwell people. They can inflict some painful wounds, even when you consider the source.
Getting positive feedback from an agent or other publishing professional can help us heal, can’t it?
Judging from the numerous replies, you really struck a nerve. Me too! Wow, I’ve struggled to call myself a writer still having many completed stories/novels/memoir. My wife wounded me first. We were young. She was an English major so I valued her response. I kept a stiff upper lip as the Brits say, but it hurt. Another time she was simply angry at me for ignoring her for long stretches writing, so she actually set one of my plays on fire! I buried the memory of it.
Many years later I took a creative writing class from an established novelist whose response to my short story started with “Will, you’re a writer.” It went a long way to healing my wounds. Our marriage survived, but to this day I’m very insecure about my writing. I used one of those self-publishers you referenced and ended up recycling a whole tree’s worth of paper. Two weeks ago I launched a rewritten version of that novel on Kindle, and I’m in final stages of another using beta readers to help me. Perseverance, yes!
Thanks so much for this article. It’s worth at least three shrink sessions!
Will Truesdell
Will–Beware English majors! Most of them have ambitions to write that have been squelched. Your wife was probably passing her creativity wound on to you. I’ll always be grateful to my college dean who told me that if I wanted to be a writer I shouldn’t major in English. “Criticism can take the joy out of making art,” she told me. So true.
Congrats on relaunching your novel that got hijacked by the scammers. That’s a huge step! And best of luck with your current WIP!!
You buried the play-burning incident. That’s probably what most of us do or would do. Unfortunately, anything buried is still there, and we know it. It takes people like that creative writing class instructor, Anne Allen (this article), and other such supportive writers to dig up these buried hurts and destroy them forever by taking them apart – what about them hurt us and what was their authority to do so? Once we can look at them objectively, we discover that they had no authority at all.
You write what you write. Nobody can write YOUR story. Nobody has your blend of education, life experience, degree of creativity, way of looking at the world, whatever. You are unique, and so is your work.
Write on!
My heart raced while reading this. I love the name Creativity Wound and now realize I have a couple and I know exactly what caused them – even many years later. They sure stick with us. I’m averse to marketing and I’m now seeing some connections … Gotta think about this one! Thanks so much!
Jemi–Not all aversion to marketing comes from a creativity wound. Some of it comes from the fact that marketing is tedious and often doesn’t work. 🙂 But if you’re having trouble showing your faith in your work and getting it front of as many people as possible, maybe it’s from those wounds.
Hello Anne,
your article was really great. Bringing up this issue was a good idea. I think this post will help some people.
Warm greetings from Germany 🙂
(Please forgive me for my bad English.)
Celastrina–I’m so glad you find it helpful! (Your English is way better than my German. 🙂 )
When I started my blog two and a half years ago, I read somewhere that you should consider identifying your role in your name. It seemed a bit egotistical to me at the time, but I did it—hence, my handle. I didn’t feel like a writer at the time, but now I’m not to give myself that title. Maybe there was some truth to that idea.
Pete–Bloggers are writers! It sounds as if you’ve been a writer for a while. 🙂
This is a beautiful piece that I wish I’d read decades ago. I’ve worked out what my creativity wound was, and when it happened [age 13 at school], but it took a long, long time to even recognize that it had happened. I’ve always known I could write, but I was convinced I could not write /fiction/. So I became a tech writer. It was not until I was 48 that I tried writing fiction again. In secret. With the firm understanding that no one would ever see what I wrote. Nine years later I finally published my first book.
Even now, I have to trust my beta readers, literally with my life, and there is no way in the wide world I’d ever join a critique group. I’ve developed most of the coping skills you list, but marketing is still my downfall because… -sigh- You know why.
Thank you for giving my experience a name. It actually helps. A lot.
ACFlory–I know several great writers who started out as tech writers. Tech writing teaches a number of skills you need in fiction. I’m sorry to hear you’re soured on critique groups. A good group can provide wonderful support for each other. But going to trusted beat readers may work better for you. The problem with both is finding people who know “critique” doesn’t mean “criticize.”
I think my mother is a bit like yours, over-critical, with standards that are a bit too high at times. When I was a teen I told her I wanted to be a writer. She said only exceptional people are successful writers and she’d seen no sign of me being exceptional. I feel like I’m still living that down.
Annabelle–Oh, my. Your mom did say pretty much the worst thing a kid can hear. It’s hard to figure out why they say things like that and what is going through their heads. That’s the kind of comment that makes a teen want to go out and shave her head and dye her armpit hair chartreuse. 🙂 She was probably trying to save you from a life of struggle and starvation in the publishing trenches, but that wasn’t the right way to do that.
Oh Annabelle…-hugs-
Hi Anne. I know some of my favourite writers are/were scientists so I guess the mindset is definitely there, but I can tell you I had to unlearn a lot of tech writing skills – such as stating something in the simplest, clearest, most precise way possible. lol I still struggle with that one. 😀
I totally agree re that ‘critique doesn’t mean criticize’. I’ve never been part of a critique group myself, but I did some reviewing and came across a brilliant young writer whose novel had literally been savaged by someone. Not only was it cruel, it was utter BS because his writing was fabulous. -shudder- I don’t think he ever published.
Beta readers on the other hand you can choose one by one, and only if you trust them implicitly. I’ve been very fortunate in mine.
Hi Anne,
It was a very amazing and eye-opening read! Although I have been trying to work on my book, and write on every chance I get. I still cannot call myself I writer. I always wondered why that is, and I found the answer through your article. Thanks a lot for addressing this issue and highlighting this in your article. I think I feel unworthy too, and I am looking forward to working on that. Thanks for such an amazing article.
John Ravi, Writer–I’m so glad this piece has helped you move that obstacle from your brain. You ARE a writer!!
I recently acquired and read a book by an English teacher of middle-grade students in southern New Hampshire. It is “The Writer’s Mindset” by Chris Hall. It is a glorious manual for teachers to guide their students into enjoyment of the entire writing process – to see their written work as their own, not just an assignment from the teacher, and to discover revision not as drudgery but as an exciting process in which they are in control of which details and how many they choose to include in their stories. This book is intended for teachers of 3rd to 8th graders, but it is equally valuable for writers of any age, who may or may not be comfortable with the written word.
If you get this book, you will not want to miss the part about young Henry who wrote a story about the monster “Peppermantis,” his own creation, a giant praying mantis made of white and dark chocolate with peppermint-stick legs, antennae, and mandibles, that threatens a town of gingerbread people.
This is good stuff!