Oof.
On Twitter, I saw a poet say she had time to provide feedback on a few poems (for a fee). She was being recommended by someone else who said that after incorporating the feedback, all of the poems were accepted for publication at various literary journals. Despite being turned off by the prospect of paying for feedback (which makes it feel transactional), I decided to give it a try. I got my feedback today. I only read through it once and felt like I needed some time to process. It’s not that it was harsh or bad or anything like that, but I can see how incorporating the changes would drastically alter the initial pieces.
I’m not opposed to incorporating the feedback or altering the poems… I immediately saw where one deletion would greatly improve the immediacy of the work. What I think I’m grappling with are a few different feelings. First, will it still feel like my poem after the changes? Secondly, I need to get better at and spend more time editing my own work. I need to develop an eye for this type of critique. Thirdly, I had to ask myself, why aren’t I better at this out of the gate? In some cases, the recommended revisions were heavy, and I’m left feeling that maybe I’m not ready for prime time. I’d like to get my work to a point where it’s mostly usable with only few tweaks as opposed to needing major revisions.
There’s a famous saying in writing, “kill your darlings.” It’s basically urging writers to be ruthless in their editing – nothing is sacred. If it doesn’t serve the piece – kill it. So often, I look at my writing and don’t even consider it to be among my darlings, and maybe that’s the problem. Often, I see my writing as dead on arrival – you can’t exactly kill a corpse. And here’s where my self-deprecating negative attitude comes in. In some respects, I don’t care about revising for the sake of securing a publication… and because of the transactional nature of the exchange, I begin to wonder if the feedback is because I paid for feedback. A more honest assessment might be to say – “hey, this just isn’t publishable or salvageable, here are some exercises to work through or some books to read and maybe hold on to this line.”
This is where I can get too caught up in my own head. I’m really bad at taking compliments, and apparently, I don’t always trust the sincerity of criticism. Though even that statement doesn’t feel accurate. It’s as though I’d rather hear that something is garbage so that I can cut my losses and move on as opposed to… whatever it is I’m current;y feeling. For as much as I talk about taking moderate stances and living in the spaces “in between” I still feel the occasional tug of this all or nothing approach to life. I know I’ve been guilty of doing this in relationships where for one reason or another, I just shut down or can’t figure out how to move forward.
I worry that at the root of this discomfort is a type of self-loathing. I see a lot of writers out there promoting themselves and their work, and I wonder if I would be capable of that – do I care enough about my own work to promote it, and if not, why? More importantly, if I don’t care enough about it to promote, then does it hold true that I might not care enough to fix it or improve it? I’ve come across this “attitude” in dating. I’ve met several women who don’t think they’re deserving of a good relationship and so they either sabotage their relationships or refuse to put in the effort. Most therapists will tell you that self-love and self-compassion are keys to establishing healthy relationships with others, and I’m beginning to think that I might need to develop some self-love and self-compassion for my writing before I can ever expect anyone else to enjoy it.
Sending poems to a stranger to critique was an important risk for me to take. Submitting my work for publication is often a yes or no proposition. They either take it or reject it. Sharing my work for critique is the messy middle road in between. Like self-improvement or getting better at relationships, this type of work can’t be done in isolation – or you can only go so far by working in isolation. For years, I’ve been working in isolation.
Admittedly, the feedback feels a little like a rejection. Generally speaking, I’m ok with that. Generally speaking, I’m ok with putting myself “out there” and running the risk of rejection. I think what I need to be better prepared for is what may become my season of rejection. I’m applying for jobs. I’m submitting poetry for critique and publication. I’m warming up to the idea of meeting new people (romantically and platonically in a new city). It’s possible that none of these things will work out. It’s almost certain that none of them will go the way I anticipate, and even if they do, I’ll probably find a way to diminish the win and chalk it up to dumb luck. For now, I have some revisions to consider and some feedback to process.