Time for a classic from the archives, originally published on November 9, 2013.
Enjoy! xoMelissa
Raise your hand if you love being criticized.
Yeah, I thought not. Me, either. Who does?
If you want to live a big, bold, creative life, however, one of the first orders of business is learning how to deal with criticism, because the bigger and bolder you get, the more attention and feedback you’re going to get, both positive and negative.
The only other option is to stay small and timid, hiding under your shell, but that’s the opposite of living a big, bold, creative life, so it’s not really an option at all.
Learning effective tools for dealing with criticism is so important that I devote an entire module of Your Big, Bold, Creative Life Academy to it. And let me tell you, I was happy to have those tools at the ready this morning, when my business partner, Cory, forwarded the following email to me, which he’d received in response to our Creative Insurgents podcast.
Hi Cory:
Just watched Episode One. GREAT idea! But WAY too much talking. Want specifics, not Melissa’s self-indulgent blathering on about the creative process, the nature of insurgency, etc. We are not all morons like Minnie. Give me specific ideas soon or will not be attending another!
Respectfully,
[Name withheld]
Ouch. In one fell swoop, this lady, whom I’ll call Z, accused me of being a self-indulgent blatherer who treats listeners like morons, and called Minnie a moron.
I’d be lying to you if I said this did not hurt me.
The truth is, words can and do hurt, and if I did not have power tools for neutralizing the effect of attacks like this, I’d have shut down operations years ago and moved into a yurt in the Yukon Territory. (Well, actually, perhaps an island in the Pacific, where the weather’s better.)
The reason that this particular criticism stung, though, is the same reason any criticism stings: it touched a nerve.
Someone, at some point early in my development, told me I was selfish, and I believed them. Someone, at some point, told me I talked too much. (Girls, after all, should be quiet and retiring! Girls should not make noise, solicit attention, or seek the limelight — no, siree! Girls should smile and look pretty, and that’s it.)
If I didn’t already have these old wounds, Z’s words would have meant nothing. If, rather than attacking me for my “self-indulgent blathering on,” Z had made fun of my red hair, say, or attacked me for being too cheerful, her arrow would have bounced right off. I don’t have old hurts around being a redhead or too cheerful, so it’s much easier for me to maintain neutrality around those things.
Call me “self-indulgent,” though, or sneer that I “blather on,” and the part of me that wonders if I really am and do those things wants to curl up and hide. Forever.
Thankfully, I’ve got some tools to help keep those arrows from slicing too deeply. Tools that you can use, too.
Tool #1: Know your hair triggers.
Simply knowing the negative beliefs I fear might be true about myself helps me to stay neutral when I receive criticisms aimed right at those beliefs. I’m less likely to spiral into a blob of self-doubt, convinced I should spend the rest of my days in solitary confinement, when I can recognize that, oh, my buttons just got pushed!
How do you discover your hair triggers? Simply ask yourself, “What criticism do you most fear receiving?”
If a particular criticism really pushes your buttons, if you’d just die if someone said X about you, it’s a sure sign that some part of you fears or believes that X is really true.
But just because you fear it or believe it does not make it so.
Do you have evidence that X is really true? What is the evidence that you do have?
Whenever I feel myself sliding into my old fear that I’m selfish, for example, I remind myself of all the evidence to the contrary: the many friends, acquaintances, students, clients, subscribers, who reflect back to me on a regular basis that I’m generous and thoughtful, rather than selfish.
That may not be everyone’s experience of me — clearly, it’s not Z’s experience — but that doesn’t really tell me anything about me. Instead, it tells me about her.
Which brings me to:
Tool #2: Separate fact from interpretation
I got a piece of negative feedback. So let’s look at this rationally. What does this feedback tell me about the person criticizing?
Let’s take a look. Here’s what I learned from this missive from Z:
1) Z likes the idea of the podcast, but feels there was too much talking in Episode One. (Note: I’m not sure what a podcast is supposed to contain besides talking, but that’s another story.) She wants specifics (whatever that means).
2) Z is not my Right People.
3) Z seems to feel that the threat of her non-attendance matters to Cory (whether this is true or not, I don’t know — I haven’t asked Cory).
4) Z is the kind of person who insults other people behind their backs (she chose to tell Cory that I’m a self-indulgent blatherer, and that she considers Minnie a moron, rather than telling us directly herself).
5) Z is the kind of person who says one thing, but does another: signing off with “Respectfully,” after writing a letter that was anything but respectful.
Now, in Z’s defense, it may be that she was having a very bad day. Perhaps when she wrote her email she had just stubbed her toe, or was suffering from intestinal cramping. Or maybe her dog had just died. We cannot know.
I try to give people the benefit of the doubt, so I will assume that Z is a really nice person most of the time, like most people. Even really nice people can flame someone in a bad moment. I’ve been known, in the heat of passion, to click send on a message that I never would have sent had cooler heads prevailed. (Soooo embarrassing…)
The point here is not to make fun of Z, but to bring some reason into play when on the receiving end of nastiness. The real question is this:
How do we know whose feedback and criticism to pay attention to, and whose to ignore?
I really like Brené Brown’s way of looking at it. In her book, Daring Greatly, she talks about those of us who are making work and putting it out there in the world being like the gladiators who are fighting in the arena. There might be thousands of people in the stands screaming, “You’re a wimp! You can’t fight your way out of a paper bag!” but they’re not in the arena themselves, are they?
It’s easy to fling attacks from the sidelines, but that feedback is rarely useful to the gladiators themselves.
“I will accept criticism,” says Brené Brown, “from people who are also out there in the arena getting their ass kicked.”
Amen.
Is Z in the arena getting her ass kicked? Is her opinion something truly useful for me?
No and no.
If Z were a fellow podcaster offering a suggestion that she thought would improve our podcast and bring us more devoted fans, that would be one thing. But a name-caller offers me no useful data.
So with those two tools from my Dealing With Criticism Toolbox, I un-paralyzed myself, wrote this blog post, and got on with my day. I hope you find it helpful. It would make me happy if Z’s crappy note composted down into fertilizer for something good.
PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!
Thanks for the “power tools” Melissa. You are awesome.
You bet, Leah! And back atcha. 🙂
I think everyone is entitled to an opinion. I think sooner or later I’m going to run into someone whose opinion of me isn’t great. But anonymous mudslinging? Anyone who doesn’t even have enough character to own that opinion is someone I don’t need to take very seriously!
It’s easy to criticize. Making a difference is something else again. Melissa, you make a difference.
Thanks, Laureen. To be fair, the mudslinging wasn’t actually anonymous — I withheld her real name so as not to sling mud myself. 🙂
Oh well. Mudslinging is still its sweet self, named or not 🙂
🙂
You make such a good point about ‘hair triggers.’ Some things bounce straight off, but other comments really hit home. It’s so easy to slip into believing the negativity because it matches up with your unacknowledged worries.
I love these two tools. They are so practical and work really well. Thanks for sharing your personal experience. I helps to show how all your great tips work in real life. 🙂
Yeah, it really helps to recognize those triggers! These tools don’t eliminate the sting of criticism, but they sure do help. Kinda like psychic Teflon®. 🙂
Very immature! If she did not like it, why listen to it! And why be rude and make those comment!
Lida van Bers
Yes, good questions, Lida. I wondered the same thing. If all of us changed everything we do to try and appeal to our worst critics, it seems to me that we’re disrespecting those who follow us because they like what we do.
Maya Angelou wrote: ‘I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” That’s so true. Years ago during a critique In one of my painting classes, a fellow art student commented that my paintings were “all pink and black like me” (I have black hair and love wearing bright pink lipstick) That doesn’t sound like much of an insult, but I still remember how it stung. As artists we bare our souls in our work. These tools are essential for survival. Thank you Melissa.
I love that Maya Angelou quote, Mabelito! Yes, so very true. Thanks so much for sharing it with me. A useful reminder to think about how we make people feel as we go through our days.
Applause! So graceful.
Thanks, Mark! 🙂
Melissa, thank you so much for sharing both this stinging experience and for the ways to deal with criticism. I’m still trying to absorb it all and apply it to myself. Knowing the negative beliefs we each fear is truly a powerful tool to have.
You’re welcome, Mike. Thanks for your comment. I’m still trying to absorb it all and apply it also — it’s a lifelong process. 🙂
I think you make some very good points and these are tools that every artist should have. Thank you!
I’d like to add something though if you let me. “I will accept criticism,” says Brené Brown, ”from people who are also out there in the arena getting their ass kicked.”
That’s true most of the time, but what if a spectator actually gives you some sound critiscm? What if precisely because they’re not in the arena, they can see something that your fellow gladiators can’t? “I will not listen to them. They’re not in the arena, they don’t know what they’re talking about.” Taking this attitude can be damaging. You might completely overlook some great advice. I think we just have to be able to look at a critique objectively, no matter where it comes from, and ask ourselves “is there something to this? Do I agree or not?” And sometimes we still don’t agree. It’s impossible to please everyone and apply all the contradicting advice we receive. But it’s a great strenght to at least be able to take it into consideration.
Regarding Z’s critique, the mistake she makes is being very insulting and hurtful. This is NEVER helpful. I think she meant to say that you were too long-winded and in the end the amount of actual information was too little for the time the podcast ran. For whatever reason (maybe her dog die) she decided to express this in the meanest possible way. I don’t know if there’s truth to it because I haven’t listened to that podcast myself. But it sure sounds like that would be an easy mistake to make especially on a first podcast. I know I for one always say tons of useless stuff when I talk and I slowly get further away from the subject. You can’t possibly be as bad as me, but it’s entirely possible that you were a little too long-winded, isn’t it? And if by any chance you actually were, it would be a shame to just dismiss the comment simply because Z is not a fellow podcaster and therefore can’t possibly know what she’s takling about. After all, Z is part of the audience, the people you MAKE this podcast for.
If I read a book and don’t understand at all what’s happening in a scene, there’s probably a problem with it. And if I point it out to the writer, if he follows Brené Brown’s advice would he simply dismiss me because I’m not a fellow writer? Books are made for readers, people who don’t have much knowledge about writing but even so, THEY are the ones who have to understand the scene. If they need a diploma in litterature to get it, there’s indeed a problem with the scene! The listeners of your podcast probably don’t know enough to be able to suggest ways to improve it, but as your target audience they might still make some good points. Granted, only on days they don’t have intestinal cramps…
I interpret Brené Brown’s statement differently, Vanessa — not as “I will never listen to anybody who isn’t doing exactly the same thing that I’m doing,” but rather as “I will not waste my time bending backwards in an attempt to please spectators hurling insults from the stands.” And I certainly don’t disagree that being able to look at critiques objectively is much to be desired. I don’t think anything in my post suggests otherwise.
My point was not to “dismiss a comment,” but rather, not to allow it to flatten me and stop me in my tracks. (And, I might add, not try to “fix” or “mold” myself into something that I’m not, solely in an attempt to please those who make nasty critiques. That, my dear, is called being a doormat, or lacking in integrity, and I don’t think it’s particularly useful to anyone.) The title of my post was “Dealing With Criticism,” rather than “Dismissing Criticism” for a reason.
I would also be the first person to acknowledge that I’m long-winded. I know this about myself. I have a tendency to get very, very talky, especially when I get nervous, or when someone throws me a question I’m not prepared for — which is exactly what happened in the first episode of Creative Insurgents, as a matter of fact! The fact that I know I can be long-winded, and knew specifically that I was longer-winded than I would have liked to be on Episode One of the Creative Insurgents podcast, is precisely why the attack of “blathering on” stung so much. That was one of my points in my post, but perhaps I did not make this clear enough.
You wrote: “I think she meant to say that you were too long-winded and in the end the amount of actual information was too little for the time the podcast ran.” Yes, that was my assumption, too. When I wrote:
“(Note: I’m not sure what a podcast is supposed to contain besides talking, but that’s another story.) She wants specifics (whatever that means).”
I was taking the opportunity to inject a little snarky humor. Because, in addition to having a tendency toward long-windedness, I also have a tendency toward sarcasm.
Finally, although I agree that listening to one’s audience is good and important (and I don’t think Brené Brown would disagree), I’m not sure people like Z are part of the audience we’re trying to reach. Someone who threatens and insults in an attempt to manipulate — even if her underlying points are valid — is not my Right People.
Can I get useful information from insults and threats? Absolutely! Are they the data by which I want to chart my full course? I think not. And given that I have limited energy and resources to deal with the scads of feedback points I get on a regular basis, it feels most useful to me to look specifically for feedback from people whose opinions I know are important and valuable to me, and to limit the energy I put into absorbing feedback from sources that aren’t.
It’s very hard to disagree, you make very good and back them off with solid arguments 🙂
I do believe it’s a good attitude to not accept negative energy from mean people. However for my own benefit, not anyone else’s, I try to consider every critique no matter the tone it’s written in.
And so there have been times when I’ve anwsered something like “Thank you for taking the time and for being so sweet and polite. However, I will not change this particular thing because even though it can’t please everybody, it is to my taste I want it to be like this. Thanks anyway!”
And there have been times I’ve answered things like “You’ve definitely made me aware of a mistake that I will want to look into. However, I do not let anybody talk to me in such an insulting way, strangers even less. You should know that arguments are always more powerful when they’re delivered kindly. If you cannot be polite in the future, I will have to block you.”
I really believe that being able to look at critiques neutrally and seriously consider them is the healthiest and most rewarding way to deal with it, and it’s the opposite of being a doormat. I used to get so hurt by critique, even kind ones when I was younger. I was a doormat because I was letting critiques anger me and crush me. Thankfully now they don’t hurt me at all anymore, and sometimes I’m able to get great help even from the most insulting comment. And that is truly making the best out of a negative situation and coming out on top not as a doormat, but as a better artist and a better person.
I like your attitude, Vanessa. 🙂
Your contribution to Thriving Artist Summit has been my favorite so far…that’s how I found your blog…hooray! I’m also an artist with a variety of passionate interests. Thank you for offering the stovetop lifestyle idea, and also sharing your experience dealing with unconstructive criticism. You offer a powerful perspective to deal with some of this negativity we will undoubtedly have to deal with. I realized I do carry a lot of fear about encountering more of this as I venture out into the world sharing my work. Thank you! -Melissa J
Oh yay! I’m so glad you liked my interview for the Thriving Artist Summit, Melissa! I’m so glad my stovetop model resonates with you, and I hope you find the courage to lean into that fear so you can get as big and bold as you want. 🙂