I recently joined a critique group for a writing project I’ve been working on. The premise is pretty simple. Each person in the group submits a piece of writing, and then everyone else offers a written critique before we meet over Zoom to discuss.
One morning a few days before our last meet-up, I opened my computer to read the comments on my work. And let me say, it sent me into a tailspin.
There’s no denying that self-doubt can be part of the creative process, and I’ve certainly had my share of it, but for me, nothing is more triggering than having my work critiqued.
As far as I can tell, this stems from when I was in grad school, getting my MFA in Metals and Jewelry. This isn’t a dig at my program. I had the most incredible professors and their feedback was always well-placed and usually supportive. But somewhere along the way, I just remember feeling incredibly beat up after every critique. This was most likely a me problem – I am a former gifted kid/straight-A student, after all – but it doesn’t mean that my feelings during or post-critique were any less valid.
I’ve noticed this play out at various points in my creative career as well. I was once part of a mastermind with a few other amazing women business owners, and whenever I turned to the group for advice, I’d end up paralyzed by criticism, feeling more stuck than when I began. A friend who was in the group with me commented afterward that she’d never seen me acting less “me” than she had during those meet-ups.
Something about getting criticism tends to shake my confidence. Hard.
Fast forward to my meltdown a few weeks ago over my writing group feedback. After spending a day spiraling, I knew I needed to reset my relationship with criticism for two very important reasons.
The first is that I really like this writing project. Despite knowing that I have a lot of editing and improving to do, I’m still excited about where it’s going. And after freaking out about it for a day, I realized that I didn’t want to quit. That no matter how much the criticism stung, and how much work still sits before me, I’m not ready to give up.
The second is that, as a coach and mentor, giving other people criticism is literally part of my job. And it’s a part of my job that I love. But I’m also constantly amazed at how well the artists and makers that I work with take my feedback. It’s possible that some of them spiral here or there, but more often, the people that I work with take my suggestions and run with them. The criticism tends to excite them, rather than deflate them.
I’d like to think this is partly down to my coaching style, which is a good balance of toughness and love. But while I’ll admit that I’m a damn good coach, I know I could be better when it comes to being coached. Because being coached is something my students handle waaaay better than I do.
So I decided I needed to reframe the way I thought about criticism. I needed a way to approach getting feedback on my work that didn’t make me feel like I’d been hit by a brick wall. And then it hit me:
Feedback is a gift.
Wait, let me rephrase that.
Solicited feedback is a gift.
All feedback is not created equal. When I say “feedback is a gift,” I’m not talking about the random person who wanders up to your booth at a craft show and starts spouting off their opinion. (Because those people are the worst.) I’m not talking about the vaguely related family member who has never run a business but has all kinds of opinions about how you should run yours. (I don’t know about you, but I definitely have some of those.) I’m not talking about strangers on Instagram who suggest you should offer it in blue. (Even though you hate blue.) And I’m certainly not talking about the person who replies to your emails to tell you about a typo. (If you’ve been around here for any length of time, you know I hate that shit.)
No, when I say feedback is a gift, I mean the kind of feedback you intentionally seek out.
All of that feedback, those critiques I got in graduate school. Those were a gift.
That my talented, hard-working professors chose to spend some of their energy trying to make my work better. That was a gift.
That the other members of my writing group choose to give up some of their limited time to read my work and share their thoughts. That’s a massive gift.
And that I choose to look at other people’s art and businesses and share my thoughts. That’s a gift too. And I know this because my students and mentees tell me all the time.
I just couldn’t recognize it for myself. I was too busy wallowing in shame and self-doubt to understand all the times I’d been given this incredible gift.
The power of reframing feedback as a gift is that you get to take what works for you and leave the rest. Giving feedback is an act of generosity, not a command. When someone gives solicited feedback, they are trying, in the best way they know how, to make your work better. That is a gift, but it’s not an obligation. You can take the parts of feedback that feel good and leave the rest behind.
When you know that the feedback, or criticism, comes from a place of caring, it’s easier to move forward with clarity.
And that’s what happened during our writing group Zoom meet-up. Rather than the suggestions that were shared sending me into a spiral of doubt, I was able to identify the places where I wanted to expand or revamp my work. I realized the gift that was getting a fresh perspective, but I also recognized that I’m steering the ship. That only I know where the project is headed, and I can take or leave feedback as I see fit.
Thanks to the Internet, we’ve all had our share of unsolicited feedback. And you are more than welcome, in fact, I’d say encouraged, to let that shit go. You don’t have to take advice from anyone, ever, but especially when you didn’t ask for it.
But that doesn’t mean that feedback isn’t valuable. In fact, quite the opposite. When you find people you can trust to give you an outside opinion, feedback really is a gift.
If you’re looking for my feedback, there are two ways to work with me. You can book a 1:1 coaching session, or you can join my online mentorship program, Artists & Profit Makers. Either way, I promise to be tough yet gentle. Because I know how hard it is to accept criticism, but I also now know how much of a gift it truly is.
