Criticism is a Tough Pill to Swallow

Recently I found myself an editor. I was truly grateful to finally have an editor, because most tales I write are only seen by my  own two eyes. It felt great, finding someone with experience in the business to review my ideas. I guess it is expected, yet I thought my editor would enjoy my plot and give some praise right away. On the other hand, I got criticized and shown more fault than perfection within my rough draft. Criticism really is a tough pill to shallow.

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When I was first told about the mistakes I felt a bit of anger. It felt like this person was mocking my writing. It only confused this person. They did not feel any connection to the story. I felt like a parent whose child is being bullied at school. It gave me grief. The worst part is I couldn’t understand. Why is this person being so gruff? Why were they scolding my characters who only bring me joy? After a few days I noticed what my editor was referring too. For a long time I’ve been shown praise, yet deep down a part of me felt like a piece of the pie was missing. I’m not the type of person who figures things out immediately. I know something is off, yet I can’t figure it out. I’m in favor of examples which can reveal my flaws to me. Action definitely speaks louder than words in my opinion.

It was painful being shown my mistakes which are more minor rather than major nonetheless  my eyes are being opened. I’m finally understanding certain parts of writing I had trouble understanding for many years. I’m furious at a few of my college instructors who gave me the wrong information. I need to worry less about how my story sounds or appears. A story should be shown, not told.

 Writers should write what they love. When I’m writing a story it shouldn’t feel like a job. It should come naturally. Being a writer is an amazing career. Still there is many things to be learned. Being a fan of first person narrative I should step into my characters shoes and see the world from his or her own perspective. I know it sounds strange, but I think of my characters like another version of me in another universe. What type of story do they belong in? Does their story bring them joy or great sadness? Being criticized can be harsh, yet necessary to improve our craft.

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