It feels good when we are praised for the work that we do, but I think that most people will admit that this is the exception not the rule. More often than not, someone will strongly dislike the work that we do or the art that we create.
If we don’t experience blatant criticism, subdued negativity takes the form of endless disapproving questions. I always try to answer those with grace but I can’t lie, it does irk me. But I’ve spent years on the path less travelled and I’ve learnt that other people’s opinions (mostly) don’t matter. What matters when it comes to the art that we create is:
1) That we are proud of our own work, and
2) That we listen to the right feedback.
Aim to be proud of your work
We need many hours of practice before we can become good. We can’t put in those hours if we are constantly concerned about the opinions of others. We should aim to like our own work first. If we aren’t happy with the outcome of a song, a story, or a sketch, redo it. And if the second try fails, do it again. Do it until you can see improvement. And then practice some more. This is the process by which we become better.
If we can finish some project and say, Well, that might not be perfect but I’m proud of it, then we’ve won. I feel this way about Faarland. There are many things that I would do differently if I had to do it again. Not necessarily in terms of the story but definitely in terms of the publishing and marketing. I also know of a few grammar mistakes in the printed version. The first time I spotted those, I cringed. But I still look at that story as something that I am proud of—and that’s enough.
Negative feedback hurts. There is no getting around that. But if we can look at something that we created and know that we did our best, know that we like it (or maybe even love it), we can rest assured that we are on the right path.
The thing that we should always keep mind is this: If we work on our craft consistently we will improve. Maybe our first album, novel, or painting flops. So, what? Try again. Soon enough you will create something that you’re proud of.
Know who to listen to
There is a time and a place to be receptive to feedback but the most important thing is to be discerning as to who one listens to. Years ago I was more involved with other writers and writer’s groups. Those experiences taught me that most comments are not useful.
In my estimation, only about ten to twenty percent of feedback were truly useful. Here’s a rough ratio breakdown of how I experienced feedback: Ten to twenty percent was good, worth taking on board, or at least worth considering. Fifty to sixty percent was usually too subjective and not particularly useful. Twenty percent was utter nonsense. Worse than nonsense. Sometimes, downright wrong! On one occasion, someone who had no idea what AI meant, scratched out the word and replaced it with something … nonsensical. This was a sci-fi story so in the context of the story it meant, Artificial Intelligence. I did not feel that it was unreasonable to expect a reader to know what that meant.
Sometimes people would correct words and grammar that were never wrong. This was especially infuriating. This sort of thing caused me to spend way too much time being angry, and not enough time writing. Especially since I was hyper-meticulous when it came to the grammar corrections I made for others. In my view, grammar is more like math than soft science—style aside, there’s usually a right way to write a sentence.
When I look back now I realise that I syphoned off way too much energy into trying to determine if the feedback I was receiving was actually valid. A lot of it was not. In fact, a lot of comments were conflicting. Additionally, certain people just didn’t like me all that much as a person. My experience during those years can be summed up as this: Too many cooks in the kitchen. After some significant internal reflection, I eventually became discerning about what advice I took on board. One should have some balance between openness and stubbornness. Emotional work and self-awareness can help with this, but it also takes time to start trusting yourself.
Finally, I also realised that one should at least respect the art (or writing, or music) of the person whose feedback you’re taking on board. This seems like an obvious requirement but for some reason not something that I implemented at first. And as a final rule, always make sure that the feedback that you are implementing is actually making your work better.
Final thoughts
A way to actually produce something that is good, I’ve found, is not to saturate yourself with people’s opinions. It is way more effective to take a few critical things on board while still aiming to produce something that you love.
A friend once told me she absolutely hated Faarland. She said this mainly because it was written in first person. Not a great reason, but it still stung. I sat with that for a while and later realised this: The story might not be on the level of a Sanderson, Rothfuss or Novik … but I still love it. I’m still proud of it.