When feedback feels like a threat to your voice
Pull Up a Chair…
Pull up a chair and let me tell you a story. Come on now! Don’t be shy 🙂
The Critique That Stung
My eyes burned a hole through my laptop screen reading the words:
“Readjust the dialogue so it’s not consistently informal. It becomes hard to read.”
I scoured the tangled webs that had become my thoughts. What does that mean? And what’s so hard to read?
“Don’t Take It Personal”
Listen, people will volunteer words of wisdom when you start on your writing journey, and among the tritest words they offer will rest: “Don’t take it personal.”
Well, excuse me, but writing is personal. I am not sure what could be more personal than bearing your soul, your thoughts, your own internal dialogue, and the imagination you’ve kept to yourself for decades — to the world. Or to people that do not know you.
The Cloud
The above critique was probably the one that stung the most — not because it offended me, but because I thought it might finally be happening.
The cloud that hangs over writers of color — or writers from underrepresented groups.
The thing that they do not talk about out loud but only whisper in corners of the internet.
The cloud.
And you may be asking, “Betty? What cloud are you referencing?”
Well — the cloud that tells you drip by drip that your voice is not palpable to the majority. That the organic/authentic way that your characters interact and converse with each other is… “hard to read” or “not relatable.”
The Whitewashing
I’ve watched a few Tikky Toks about the dreaded moment that authors are stripped of their authenticity and given a bucket and mop to whitewash the words that they have written.
Slowly taking out each genuine word, replacing it with something that they will understand.
Your voice suffers a death of tiny little papercuts — revising each colorful word of your manuscript, replacing it with, well… something more pale. Bleached, perhaps.
If I Could’ve Snatched It Back…
If I could’ve reached through the screen and snatched the pages of my manuscript back, I would have.
I would’ve also made sure I gasped and held it close to my chest, whispering, “I’ll never let them hurt you.”
But I couldn't. So, what did I do instead?
Step One: Walk Away
I walked away. I moved. I pushed myself away from my laptop and I slammed my office door (not too loud though, ’cause the baby was sleeping).
So, actually, I just acted like I was going to slam it and gently pulled it closed.
Step Two: Feel It All
I wanted to feel all the emotions those words stirred inside of me.
I wanted my ears to burn and my nostrils to flare.
And NO — not just because I keep a journal of all the ways my body reacts to emotion so that I can later use it in my stories. 😀
I need to feel to process.
Burying my emotions has never worked — at least not in the long term.
They always have a sneaky way of showing up and masquerading as insecurity or my favorite friend: ANXIETY!
Quite frankly, I also did not want to touch my manuscript.
I didn’t look at it for a week because I knew my propensity for seeing it through dodo-colored glasses was going to be high.
Step Three: Process
I prayed.
Spoke to a few trusted writer buddies, friends, and my husbay.
They gave me words of encouragement and reassured me that one person’s opinion doesn’t make or break my art.
My best friend told me she understood every word of said scene and whoever said whatever could kick rocks!
I should've recorded her words of encouragement so I could play it repeatedly and link it below.
Step Four: Revisit with Clarity
Lastly, after I was able to feel my emotions and process them, I was able to approach the situation objectively.
I had the opportunity to read through the notes and ask myself: Was the dialogue hard to follow? And if so, where?
Once I was able to read through it, I came up with a list of questions that I could ask for clarity.
I had a meaningful conversation with her and understood their point of view.
I took our conversation and was ultimately able to decide whether I was going to employ the changes they suggested… or not.
The Point
So I know you are waiting for the point… and here it is:
Sometimes what we assume is a threat to our voice is not — and sometimes it is.
You have to know who you are, and you have to know your voice like no one else.
Does the critique improve/polish your voice so that it is louder and bolder — not lost amongst the others?
Or does it turn the dial down until you are finally mute?
Ultimately, you have to decide.
And you cannot bend to the whims of the world or you will look around and wonder where it went.
Whatever you do, be objective and approach it with your story in mind, with your audience in mind.
And like Sir Mix-a-Lot says:
“You can do side bends or sit-ups… but please don’t lose (I’m going to change the word for the point of this exercise) that VOICE.”
We need it.
