I didn’t hear about the first writing conference I attended until shortly before it began. As I scrambled to prepare for it, I emailed the director to ask if I could still send in a manuscript sample for critique, something most conferences offer for a fee. She graciously said yes.
I’d been forewarned that I would be shocked at the number of corrections such a critique would entail. I thought I was prepared, but I still reeled at all the penciled-in notations on my manuscript. Thankfully my critiquer did not use a red pen, or else my pages would have looked like they were bleeding out.
I tried to take in all the comments the editor shared with me at our fifteen-minute meeting. At the end, I became painfully aware that she had not said one good thing about my writing.
The next activity on the schedule was lunch, and as I walked to my car in tears, I almost headed for home. Maybe writing was my dream, not God’s will. Maybe the people who had complimented my writing in the past were just being kind.
As I ate lunch alone, I pondered what to do. I finally felt God wanted me to stay. The conference and the hotel had already been paid for, so I might as well take advantage of them.
And I was glad I did. The rest of the conference was a wonderful experience and left me filled up and ready to go home and tackle my writing.
As I looked back over my submitted manuscript and tried to decipher my notes, I began to appreciate the editor’s comments. I thought I had a good grasp of grammar because I loved English classes and usually made A’s. But a few decades after graduating, I’d forgotten some things and developed bad habits. Plus, a few standards had changed over the years. I became appalled at the glaring errors I made, not only in this piece, but in years of blogging and newsletter writing. I wanted to go back and edit all my blog posts.
The two major errors the editor pointed out stuck with me. Perhaps the sting of the criticism embedded those issues deeper than they otherwise would have been. I still wish the editor might have found something positive to say. But ultimately, I was thankful for the correction because it led to a vast improvement in my writing and a new watchfulness. In fact, at the same conference the following year, two of my contest pieces won awards, which was a great encouragement.
(By the way, don’t let this experience deter you from submitting a manuscript for critique if you have the opportunity. My subsequent critiques at other conferences were much more positive experiences.)
Oddly, we all know we’re far from perfect, but we bristle when anyone points out our flaws. When someone discreetly lets me know my slip is showing or tucks a tag into my collar, I’m initially irritated. After a minute, I remind myself they are just trying to help. I really don’t want to venture out with a drooping slip or visible clothing tag, so ultimately I am grateful someone took the time to save me from further embarrassment.
The Bible repeatedly emphasizes the benefit of listening to correction:
The ear that listens to life-giving reproof will dwell among the wise. Whoever ignores instruction despises himself, but he who listens to reproof gains intelligence (Proverbs 15:31-32).
A fool despises his father’s instruction, but whoever heeds reproof is prudent (Proverbs 15:5).
Poverty and disgrace come to him who ignores instruction, but whoever heeds reproof is honored. (Proverbs 13:18).
Like a gold ring or an ornament of gold is a wise reprover to a listening ear
(Proverbs 25:12).
It is better for a man to hear the rebuke of the wise than to hear the song of fools (Ecclesiastes 7:5).
Think of students, athletes, musicians, and others: none of them would learn and grow if no one pointed out their mistakes or strengthened them where they were weak.
A quote of C. H. Spurgeon’s inspires me when I balk at criticism or suggestion: “Brother, if any man thinks ill of you, do not be angry with him; for you are worse than he thinks you to be.”
Of course, not all criticism is justified. When I consider a book from an author I don’t know, I look at the one- and two-star reviews as well as the five-star ones. Some of the lower reviews reveal problems with the book, but some are ridiculous.
And some people go overboard, acting as if criticism is a spiritual gift, constantly sharing their seemingly superior wisdom and opinions when they’re not called for. A study of how—and whether—to graciously offer counsel would be a subject for another blog post, but James tells us “The wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere” (3:17).
My first response to any criticism should be to examine it to see if there is any merit to it. Maybe the person is just critical or doesn’t understand. But instead of assuming so, I need to accept that they are probably trying to help. Even if they are a little off, there might be some seed of truth in their observation.
Also, instead of avoiding criticism, I need to ask for it. That first manuscript critique was hard to take, but it was also a spur to humility and an eye-opening realization of how much I still needed to learn. Reading books and blog posts about writing helps, but joining a critique group has been one of the best steps I’ve taken to improve my writing. If we want to grow in any area, it’s vital to put ourselves in a position to learn from those who know more than we do and receive their correction and advice.
I don’t think anyone likes criticism. But if we receive it humbly, look for truth in it, and improve from it, we are blessed.
Has any criticism or correction helped you?
(I often link up with some of these bloggers.)
Stray Thoughts 