You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there’s still going to be somebody who hates peaches.
DITA VON TEESE
Writers constantly worry about how other people will react to their writing. They worry about people knowing how they really feel and what they really think. They worry that if people read their writing and they expose their pink fluffy, red raging, messy, illogical insides, people won’t love them anymore. They worry that others will judge them and think less of them. That their writing is not perfect. And that people will be disappointed by that imperfect writing, and will judge them and not love them anymore. Writers worry about how others will react to what they write, the quality of what they write or the fact they have the audacity to write at all. (Although writers say they feel worried about being judged, my sneaking suspicion is they are worried about letting themselves down.)
Whichever way you look at it, for many writers, this concern is simply a handy excuse not to write at all.
‘I really want to write but I am worried about upsetting my family.’
‘Really? Okay, how much have you written so far?’
‘Er, um, nothing.’
You can’t avoid this anxiety about what people will think of your work – you just need to know it’s normal and get on with it. You either choose to give up, or you get over yourself, stop being a pleaser and remember you can’t make an omelette without breaking an egg.
Please note:
1.You cannot predict how people will react to anything. Good or bad.
2.People themselves cannot predict how they will react to anything.
3.Other people’s hurt feelings, ‘offence’ or disappointment may just be their way of attempting to discourage you because your success makes them feel inadequate.
4.Offence is taken. Not given.
5.All you can do is ensure that what you are writing is true and fair. The rest is up to them.
Let me give you an example of how you really can’t predict how people will respond to what you write. My partner, Bear, and I both had toxic, abusive fathers. We were in love when we were eighteen, and – after years in other relationships – became smug retrosexuals in 2010. Two days before we reunited, his dad died. ‘Dad died on Tuesday’ was one of the first things he said to me when we reconnected. ‘Good,’ I replied. The eulogy he gave at his father’s funeral made me fall instantly and deeply in love with him. It is also one of the finest pieces of writing I have ever read. Here it is:
Early in my life I naively held a belief that there is some good in everybody. I would always give the benefit of the doubt and assume that someone was simply ‘having a bad day’ or ‘going through a rough phase’ before judging or condemning them. The bitter lesson that I have since learned is that some people are just arseholes to the core. These people live to sap joy, conf idence and enthusiasm from others. It’s what fuels them.
So what do I do? Make something up or speak up for myself and the others who suffered his company.
Fuck it. I’m going for it.
Dad was a cruel, bitter, hateful misogynist.
If he was ever nice to you it was to lull you into lowering your guard so that the inevitable punch in the face would hit harder.
As a child I simply feared him, but as a teenager he served as a solid anti-role-model. Yes, he was an inspiration. He was everything I did not want to be.
Poor Dad was incompetent to a level where he was unaware of his incompetence and closed-minded enough to not be able to rise above it.
He would constantly denigrate Mum and his own ‘mates’. Long tirades, normally while driving, so I couldn’t escape. His famous words of wisdom? ‘All women are moles.’
Dad was never wrong about anything and it was not your right to disagree with him; in fact, he was not at all interested in your opinion.
And somehow he still demanded respect for no other reason than ‘he was my father’. I did not buy this as, by now in my teens, I had encountered far superior male role models. Men who earned respect through their actions.
In typical style, he rode my poor sister into the ground on his way out. Capitalising on her kind nature and perhaps ill-conceived sense of duty.
On the up side, he was a good cook and a great skier.
Thank you.
I wholeheartedly endorsed his approach. Fuck ‘don’t speak ill of the dead’. If you want people to speak well of you when you are dead, behave better when you are alive.
But how do you think people responded? Were they upset with him? Did they yell? No, they applauded and congratulated him. They slapped him on the back, thanked him and said he was brave and right. One person said ‘you broke our hearts and let a bit of the pain out’.
This is the only piece Bear has ever written. I love it so much I published it on my website. It has had more hits than any of the other 600 columns.
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If you are writing about real life and you are worried about what people will think of you telling the truth, clearly you do not see yourself as a ‘truth teller’. You do not think they see you as a truth teller. If you did, you’d calmly tell them, ‘You know what I’m like: I say it as it is.’
Worrying about what people will think if you expose your truth, your kinks, your vulnerability or what you consider to be your imperfect work suggests that you’ve confected an image to deny those things exist. Or you think people will only approve of you if you hide those things. What’s that about?
In my experience, people do not care about what you do or say nearly as much as you think they will. And things are never as bad or as good as you think they’ll be.
Try taking a leaf out of the celebrity book.
Have you noticed how famous people get away with doing crazy things? ‘Of course Michael Jackson had an amusement park in his backyard and his best friend was a monkey.’ ‘Of course Mariah Carey has a room as big as a house to store all her shoes.’ ‘Of course Rod Stewart has eight children with five different women.’ Yet if you so much as transgress the smallest social boundary, people turn on you. Or, much more likely, you think they will turn on you, and that stops you from doing things. How do people like the Kardashians get away with so much?
They don’t: they just do what they please and people have to deal with it. Sooner or later they get known as that person who does crazy stuff and people say, ‘Ah, that’d be right. What are they up to now?’
Be that person! Don’t lie down in the chalk outline other people have drawn for you. It’s for their benefit, not yours.
It doesn’t matter how hard you try to keep people happy, there will always be some people who do not like you or what you’ve done. Expect this. Know it’s normal.
People are not generally upset by what you said – or wrote – they are upset by the fact you said it. They are annoyed because you have supposedly transgressed a social boundary erected to keep you in your place. Or so it seems. In fact, the boundary was constructed to protect the constructer – their unearned entitlement, inherited privilege and forced reverence. Their place where no-one calls them on their bullshit. Their place where no-one questions them. They are upset that you are not as timid as they are. Their attempt to undermine you says nothing about you but everything about them. Their disapproval is the only weapon they have to stop you doing something that makes them feel inadequate. Your courage, determination and drive may make people fearful you may expose the truth about them.
Historically, truth tellers, mavericks, whistle-blowers, renegades, justice warriors and progressive and unconventional thinkers – particularly women – have been burned alive, publicly tortured, thrown in jail or locked away in asylums. Now that the haters no longer have those options, the only tool they have for controlling you is accusations you have stepped over some invisible line.
‘Sorry, what line? I can’t see any line. Who put it there and why? And why do you care? Who died and make you head prefect?’
You have one life. Live it your way. Stop being a pleaser. It’s boring. Being a pleaser is not about being a softie. It’s about your own narcissism and a convenient excuse to stop you writing. Stop describing it in a way that makes you look ‘nice’. Call it what it is: ‘I don’t write because I am a gutless narcissist.’
Writers are people with hideous conceit and low self-esteem. They are people whose egos are only slightly bigger than their self-hatred.
I will warn you: there are some people who hate those who break the rules and get away with it. You know who those people are? The people who spend all their time and energy trying to be ‘normal’. The people trying to ‘fit in’. The people who try so hard to be a good soldier they never once ask what war they’re fighting or why. These chalk monitors are all about following the rules – and making sure everyone else follows the rules. Why? Their thinking is: ‘Because they’re rules! If I have to follow them so does everyone else. If I have to curtail my impulses, so does everyone else. If I have to emotionally bonsai, creatively trellis and psychologically foot-bind myself, so does everyone else.’
On the other hand, there are also many of us who will cheer you on. When we see you finally breaking the rules, living your life the way you want – being the truest, most authentic and fabulous version of yourself – we will cheer in response, ‘Go for it, you legend. Run! Sing! Shine! Try!’ Many of us have always known this person you are underneath and seen your creativity, passion, ability and talent. We assumed you knew we loved you not despite these aspects but because of them. We waited quietly (or sometimes bossed you about) as you hid your light under a bushel. Don’t be one of those self-deprecating wankers waiting for someone to beg and cajole you into demonstrating your talent. I assure you that you’re fabulous and adored. Accept it!
Many times I have been offered great opportunities in writing and performing and thought, ‘Really? I’m not up to that. What are these people thinking asking me to do this?’ But those people were right. I could do it. They could see I could. I had no idea.
The following quote from Theodore Roosevelt has got me through every crisis of confidence, moment of doubt, encounter with an envy-filled hater, ‘this task is so daunting’-induced paralysis and passive-aggressive jab from resentful losers who have attempted to wound me with clumsy barbs they hilariously pass off as ‘feedback’ despite the fact I never asked for their opinion.
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
THEODORE ROOSEVELT
Set out to fail while daring greatly. Make that your aim. To fail. Then anything else is a bonus. Reframe.
Great people do things. Mediocre people talk about doing things. Small people bag other people who are doing things.
Don’t sweat the small people.
There are some people who do not want you to succeed. Yep. Some people do not want you to be happy. They have a vested interest in you being blocked, frustrated and unfulfilled. Your stagnation comforts and soothes them. Your happiness will make them sad and your success will make them feel they have failed. They haven’t. There is plenty of everything for all of us. Make a run for it. Save yourself. It’s the only chance of ever saving them. But don’t do it for that reason.
The haters won’t like it. Just remember, when people say you’ve changed, it means you are no longer behaving in a way that makes them feel good about themselves and their lives. If you are both frustrated writers, it’s cosy and convenient for them if you are not writing. If you take off and start getting stuff done, the other frustrated writers might feel you are leaving them behind. You may be – if they are toxic and the relationship is dysfunctional. Good for you! But you may be trying to take them with you.
If you don’t build your dream, someone will get you to build theirs.
If people dislike you, it’s because they see you as a threat, hate themselves or want to be you. Many people use others as a yardstick.
Australia has a shocking tall poppy syndrome. The worst thing you can be thought of is ‘up yourself’. In the United States, success is treated very differently. When someone becomes successful, people around them get very excited because they assume the successful person is going to take them with them. In Australia, when someone is successful people around them feel anxious, because they feel as if they will get left behind. I have seen people furious at friends for losing weight because it makes them look and/or feel fatter.
You can’t change the fact that there may be some people who do not want you to be happy. But guess what? There are also some parts of you that do not want you to be happy. Parts of you are more comfortable feeling stuck, denying yourself and making excuses – putting obstacles in front of your own success. Why would you do that? Time to get over yourself, pull your finger out and get on with it.
Perhaps you have the fear: ‘I am worried about what people will think if I write about my atheism/feminism/truth/kinks/feelings. If I reveal who I really am.’ I understand that. Please remember you never need to show anyone what you write, ever. But you need to get it out if you want to feel better, and so you can write the next thing. And if you do write something you consider controversial, provocative, offensive or revealing, you can warn the people who you are concerned about. Say to them: ‘I have written this column about my time as a sex worker / my feelings about the religion I was raised in / the issues I have with the political party you support. I am warning you it may make you uncomfortable, so you may want to consider not reading it.’ They’re adults, they’ll get over it. And if they’re kids, great! Kids need lots of diversity of opinion so they get a rigorous education.
Here’s another tip: fiction is your friend. Fiction is very liberating. But first write whatever it is that you want to write exactly how it comes out. Don’t judge, don’t edit. Blurt it out. Vomit it out. Leave it a few days or a week or two, then give it a fresh look. Half the time you will realise that with a few tweaks you could publish it as fiction. Change names, locations, occupations and genders. Make it a bit of a mash-up, an amalgam of several stories. Be vague where necessary.
Finally, have a plan of attack ready for pissed-off friends or relatives. Find a tactful friend, someone who always says the right thing, or someone who is a rational thinker and is excellent at winning debates. Show them what you have written and ask them to suggest some possible responses. Don’t ask them their opinion. Tell them you are going public with it and ask them what they see as the arguments from others and what a good response would be.
Whatever it is that you have written, people will get over it. How can people be offended by truth? And if they are, perhaps that was the point. To call them on their bullshit and be the truth teller.
To learn who rules over you, simply find out who you are not allowed to criticise.
VOLTAIRE
If you are worried about how people will respond if you publish something about them, you have four choices:
1.Fuck ’em – publish it anyway. If they wanted you to say nice things they should have acted differently.
2.Give them right of reply. Show them what you have written and inv them to write a response or their own version of events. You can choose to publish this or not.
3.Convert your story into fiction.
4.Don’t publish it. Writing will embolden and unblock you regardless.
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A lot of writers worry about receiving bad reviews. ‘How will I handle people bagging my work? It will puncture my confidence.’ Four words: Just get over yourself. Who says they’re right? They either love your writing (great!), hate your writing (okay, but why do you put a value on their assessment and opinion?) or they give you constructive criticism, which is helpful. For more on what I think of reviews, or if you need help with haters, critics or trolls, see Chapter 26.
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Ask yourself why you are so worried about keeping people happy. People know who the pleasers are and know they can control them with even the slightest hint of disapproval. What are you going to do? Not live your life on the off-chance you may possibly get someone’s nose out of joint?
Some writing doesn’t brush up against sentimentality as often as other writing. But whatever ‘bad’ edge your writing brushes up against, I think it’s important to touch it. You can always pull back from it, but at least you know where it is. It’s like when I was a dancer, we were always encouraged to fall in rehearsal, so that you could know what the tipping point of any given movement was. That way, when you did it on the stage, you could be sure you were taking it to the edge without falling on your face. It sounds like a cliche, but really it’s just physics – if you don’t touch the fulcrum, you’ll never gain a felt sense of it, and your movement will be impoverished for it.
MAGGIE NELSON
Remember:
The world is full of people just waiting to be offended.
The most secure jails are the ones we build ourselves.
Never sacrifice who you are because someone else has a problem with it.
The only way to avoid criticism is by never doing anything ever.