The Gift of Criticism: Why Writers Should Read Reviews http://ift.tt/1UlLrkV @jeffgoins #blogging

The other day I was trolling through Amazon, looking for an excuse to quit writing and become a janitor. In other words, I was reading book reviews. Yes, it’s a terrible habit. But bear with me for a moment, because I discovered something surprising.

First of all, anytime you start reading reviews of any product on Amazon, you inevitably will find the typical trolls, critics, and people who are mad at you because the USPS never delivered their book to the remote island on which they live — and somehow that’s your fault.

But buried in those pieces of feedback are occasionally some gems worth digesting.

Like I said, I wasn’t looking to be encouraged. I was hoping for an excuse to beat myself up, because I’m a writer and that’s what we do. We’re a pretty masochistic bunch. Of course, I don’t read the positive reviews. I blaze right through the 4- and 5-stars and go straight for the jugular: the much-dreaded one-star review. Which was actually, to my surprise, a place of great inspiration.

Leaning into critique

If you click “critical reviews” on Amazon, they will take you to a series of reviews that range from 1- to 3- stars, and on that page I found something I didn’t expect to see—encouragement. Here’s what one reader, Erin, had to say about my latest book, The Art of Work:

You could say I’m a vocational enthusiast. It all started when someone handed me a copy of Let Your Life Speak by Parker J. Palmer during my senior year of college. Its short-term effect was giving me the courage to say no to a stable, but stressful night job at the college union. The long-term effect? I discovered my “something I can’t not do” was helping other people grab hold of their something.

There’s a lot to grab hold of in Goins’ book about discovering “the reason you were born.” (No pressure.) Seven themes anchor his ideas – Awareness, Apprenticeship, Practice, Discovery, Profession, Mastery, and Legacy – and each theme is illustrated with anecdotes from the lives of ordinary people, including Goins himself.

While Goins is a Christian and cites Christian tradition to make some of his points, religiosity doesn’t overwhelm the reader. The practical takes precedent over the philosophical.

In the chapter on Awareness, a story illustrates how noticing what makes us different from other people can be a source of both pain and purpose. In the chapter on Practice, we see an example of how our love for something, like painting, might be honed into a skill set, like web design, without making us feel like a sell-out. “Your vocation can evolve,” Goins writes in the chapter on Profession, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Now, nearly a decade after my first brush with Let Your [Life] Speak, I hear from young wanderers picking it up for the first time and feeling the pressure to find their path once and for all.

“There is a thread we follow,” I tell them, paraphrasing a poem from William Stafford called “The Way It Is,” but with it we weave many selves over the course of one life. Much of Goins’ writing seems best suited to our independent selves, the selves that get to manifest their own destiny with the support but not permission of loved ones. His advice to “do what’s required of us,” “push ourselves to the point of exhaustion,” and “keep moving,” does not resonate in my own life where I work part-time in order to pursue the delight of being human with my husband, my friends, my church, and a whole ecosystem of people on whom my choices bear. A book on how two, independent adults discern vocational rhythm together? Now that I’d be clawing to read.

“[Vocation] is a journey of becoming,” Goins rightly points out, and I’ll take all the worthy companions (and books) that come along the way.

Well, that’s not what I was expecting to read. And then I came across another review that was both encouraging and, well, challenging:

I was dubious about this book. A work about writing by a writer who seems to only write about writing. I didn’t think his angle was legitimate. True, Goins found a niche, and it worked for him, but what about his own writing? I mean, it’s easy to write about writing in the way we can talk about writing: but what have you really produced? Aside from the writing about writing schtick, in other words, where was HIS great novel, masterpiece, his magnum opus?

Other dubious points: like others, I started to listen to his podcasts, follow his blog, receive his emails, etc. I found his relentless marketing tactics to be irksome at times.

But in the end, I’d have to say that Goins deserves a lot of credit. A lot. His book is, in fact, well-written and surprisingly more thoughtful and far-reaching than I thought. He’d quote and cite a number of my favorite and trusted writers (you tend to trust a person who trusts and cites people you trust). And under each of his illustrations and stories, there was an acknowledgement, a practicality, and honesty of suffering and the at times harshness of reality that I felt didn’t whitewash or cover over the sometimes painful process.

One last point: I really underestimated Goins. There are a lot of accompanying videos and resources associated with the book and you’ll probably see his video guides. His boyish voice cracks sometimes; he has a dippity-do haircut and looks like he’s still in high school.

But underneath that is a supremely confident and genuinely likable author who just happens to have found his calling: giving advice, helping others find out what to do. I realized that this was his kind of magnum opus, his Great American Novel, every bit as legitimate as Mark Twain or James Joyce. And he’s quite gifted at it.

Much deeper, more profound than I gave him credit for and I’m glad to say that this is a very, very nice book. And he always gives you the option to opt out of his emails! After reading this book, I decided to stick with his emails!

A nation of wimps?

Hara Marano, an editor-at-large for Psychology Today and author of the book A Nation of Wimps, points out that we as a culture have taught ourselves to avoid uncomfortable situations, especially ones where our core beliefs may be test.

Core beliefs like, “I’m a good writer”? You bet.

These days, it’s easy to cast aside anyone who critiques your work as a “hater.” But is this always true? I don’t know about you, but I’m interested in mastery, and you don’t master a craft by avoiding criticism. You don’t get good without asking the question, “Is this any good?” And occasionally, as hard as it is, we need to listen to the voices that say “no.”

This isn’t license to turn yourself into a doormat. The more I do this kind of work, the kind in which you bear your soul to the world and wait for people to reject you, the thicker skin I get. And the more I realize that if I’m going to do important work, it can’t be for everyone. Nothing great is ever for everyone.

“

Nothing great is ever for everyone.

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Lessons learned from thoughtful criticism

So let’s return to that original 3-star review. Here are a few lessons worth noting:

1. The reader gave it 3 stars. Amazon dubs this a “critical” review. Which may not sound critical, but if you break it down into percentages that’s 60% out of 100, or a D in school. The lesson? You don’t have to always tell people what they want to hear. This is the essence of an honest review, in my opinion, which is the whole point of the review system in the first place: not to tickle the author’s ears but to help other customers make an informed buying decision.
2. Her feedback is actually valuable. You don’t have to be mean to say someone could have done better or that it just wasn’t for you. I really appreciate this, both as an author and reader. This is the kind of review I would want to read if I were trying to decide if the book was for me.
3. I almost missed this, because I was scared of being criticized. But this has to be my favorite 3-star review I’ve ever received, and honestly I wanted to just blaze past it. It couldn’t be good, right? But it was. She got the book for free as part of a review program and didn’t feel compelled to simply tickle my ears. She even shared what didn’t resonate and how I could improve on the next book.

Here’s the takeaway: We creatives need to not insulate ourselves from criticism. If you’re a writer like me, you need to appreciate the fact that you can’t write a book for everyone and that hopefully with each book, you can get a little better.

I’ve been reading my reviews from The Art of Work to see how I can improve on the next book before I start writing it. I’m also learning how to write for a specific audience, so as not to confuse people when I try to do too many things, and that it’s okay to have a “dippity-doo” haircut.

Your turn

So if you’re still on the fence about whether The Art of Work is for you or not, I encourage you to check out some of these reviews. I hope they help you decide if the book is or is not worth your time.

And if you are the kind of person who buys things but doesn’t tend to leave reviews (as I am), I hope you’ll consider doing so next time. It really does help others make better, more informed choices regarding where they spend their money.

Do you think criticism helps or hinders the creative process? Share in the comments.

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