Once again, pessimism has saved me. It’s been said, “A pessimist is never disappointed.” And I’m not.
I recently entered the ACFW Genesis Contest and, like most, didn’t make the cut. It’s not the first writer’s contest I failed to place in and probably won’t be the last. I’ve got a file labeled “Rejection Slips” and, funny thing, the longer I write, the fatter it gets. Oh well, chalk it up to experience. But my laissez fair attitude isn’t shared by everyone.
I usually don’t read the ACFW forum (too much girlie chatter), but have been intrigued by The Genesis Aftermath thread — a Members Only section of the site where various topics are discussed. And apparently, there’s lots of confused, heartbroken, angry folks. The judges are being questioned. The grading system is being dissected. Careers are being second-guessed. I suppose it’s therapeutic for some, but for me, it’s a window into the nature of the Christian writing community.
I’ve long suspected that Christian critique groups are far too optimistic. . . and far too nice. No, I’m not suggesting we rip everyone’s writing. There’s got to be a fair amount of atta-boys and amens. But the fact is: Good writing is extremely hard and getting published is even harder. I wonder that the reason so many Christian writers get bent when they get a rejection or a hard critique, is that too many people have been telling them for too long that their writing is great. It’s all, “You go, girl” and “This rocks” and “It’s not long before you’re published.” Oh bull! What they need, frankly, is some thicker skin, some firmer resolve, some more humility, and maybe even some better crit partners.
Five of the folks in my crit group finaled in the Genesis Contest: Ane Mulligan, Gina Holmes, Janet Rubin, Mike Ehret and Yvonne Anderson. They’re all terrific writers, and they’ve got the bruises to prove it. I’ve personally pummeled them with nasty, nit-picky crits. And vice-versa. And you know what, we’re better off for it.
Too much praise spoils writers. . . just like too much optimism.
As a novelist, pessimism is a necessity. Sure, optimism makes the journey more enjoyable. But pessimism equips me for the inevitable bumps, bruises and dead ends along the way. No amount of positivity, pep-talks or sappy, goosebump-laden cheer can stave off the inevitable rejection. Or guarantee publication. Optimism is a gateway to delusion. Call it dour negativity; either way doubt, disbelief and cynicism are vital to a happy writing existence. Because the pessimist’s feet never leave the ground, she will get far less bruised than her dreamy, optimistic counterpart.
So let us raise a glass to pessimism — and to my mediocre, unimpressive, bland, destined-for-the-dustbin-of-publication Genesis entry. Cheers! Just make sure your glass is half empty.
This is a great post. A couple things came to mind, (1) that in the world of publishing, the Genesis contest doesn’t really mean all that much anyway, and (2) plenty of multi-published authors could enter their (published) books in the Genesis contest and they wouldn’t make the finals either.
Another thought I’ll share is the same thing I wrote to another disappointed post-Genesis writer, which was that this emotional rollercoaster never ends. I had a few books published in the last year and today I had a review in PW (I ghostwrote the book so you won’t find it under my name). Well, a review in PW is a good thing but my writing got slammed. Ugh, it’s painful. There’s always more to learn. I just have to pick myself up and continue working on my craft.
But I know the point of your post was pessimism, and I admit I’m naturally an optimist. But among the constant “you go, girl” refrains that fly around the wanna-be-published-author loops and blogs, I often wonder, where is the sense of reality here? I agree that too much praise doesn’t help anyone. As an editor I’m often the one throwing cold water on the fire of a writer’s enthusiasm, and it isn’t fun. I get what you’re saying, but I think writers actually need more “reality” and more devotion to learning the craft than simply pessimism. Just my take!
“A pessimist is an experienced optimist.” I can’t remember who said that but I like it.
I think there is a difference between blind and grounded optimism. I consider myself a grounded optimist.
There are a lot of “if”s in my optimism.
I agree with your attitude of not setting yourself up for a fall. But be weary of defeatism. I know that you don’t suffer this, because I think you’re a realist. You understand your abilities and base your expectations accordingly.
So far, in it’s finished form. Eight people have read my manuscript and seven of them told me its the greatest think they’ve ever read and it should be a blockbuster movie. I love hearing that, but it ain’t true.
To use another famous quote: “Don’t believe the hype.”
-dayle
gosh … amazing how rationalization works!!! 😉
you’re right, though, on the slippery, ooey, gooey, “ohhhh, that’s grrreeeaaat! I loooove it!”
i’ve been told SO many times i should write a book. maybe someday. but it’s not a passion of mine. sharing Truth is … so perhaps one medium, someday, will be thru a book. but i know it’s a LOT of VERY hard work, and then some more hard work. my life – and my brain – simply don’t have room for any of that right now. i respect the profession, the impact of words, and will not intentionally produce material that would lower those standards or, more importantly, bring any dishonor to God.
which is why i love blogging … it’s just writing … not for *work* but from the heart. the mechanics are not nearly as important. i’m not saying i’m sloppy out there, but it’s, i believe, an appropriate place for unprofessional writing.
You know, Mike, I’ve also wondered if a culture of unconditional praise is really good for artistic development. Maybe I question what I find in the evangelical writing community simply because it’s different from what I went through. My own mentors tended to put up obstacles and discourage whoever they could. Instead of encouraging daydreams of bestsellerdom, they tended to scoff at them. It was a supportive but very demanding world — and the praise was decidedly conditional. I feel like that was better, somehow, but maybe that’s the same thing as people who were spanked as kids thinking spanking is the Answer in a world of “time outs,” just a bias for the familiar.
I do think people who’ve had more obstacles in their path are better equipped to handle the realities of aesthetic work. They’ve come to peace with the idea that a person can have good taste and judgment but still not like certain work. They also learn how to make best use of criticism.
The folks you mention are going through that process now, I suppose. I’m grateful that when it happened to me there were no internet forums to record my reactions! Now I’d know better than to preserve them for posterity, but then I’m a realist (or a chastened optimist, at the very least).
I went throught the fiction workshopping system in university. AFter you’ve been raked through coals by 19 year old nihilists, baby, nothing gets you.
I won my category in Genesis last year (ie, SF/F/A). I didn’t final this year. I am not fazed. I think because my scores were good and the majority of the comments glowing, it’s pretty hard to get down. Plus, you know what? I’ve had the tough criticism, tougher than anything any judge in ACFW can throw at me. So, after those college “creative writing free-for-alls, you could throw spitballs at me and I’d go, “Yeah, well, that’s nothing compared to grunge-boy who only wanted to write disemboweling fiction with atheistic philosophy.”
I also know I’m a pretty decent writer. Not great. Lots and lots of room for improvement. But I don’t write dreck. And that sense of myself and my ability goes a long way. It’s much easier to say, “Oh, yes, they’re right. THAT doesn’t work,” when you know that you have it in you to produce good stuff.
It’s the ones with wobbly senses of their own ability that suffer more. To them, I say, take a couple of free-for-all, rip-you-to-shred, college workshops with disaffected beatnik types and nothing will hurt you again. Rejections will seem like a mosquito bite after that.
Mir
“Now in every writing class you find people who care nothing about writing, because they think they are already writers by virtue of some experience they’ve had. It is a fact that if, either by nature or training, these people can learn to write badly enough, they can make a great deal of money, and in a way it seems a shame to deny them this opportunity; but then, unless the college is a trade school, it still has its responsibility to truth, and I believe myself that these people should be stifled with all deliberate speed.
“Presuming that the people left have some degree of talent, the question is what can be done for them in a writing class. I believe the teacher’s work is largely negative, that it is largely a matter of saying, “This doesn’t work because …” or “This does work because …” The because is very important. The teacher can help you understand the nature of your medium, and he can guide you in your reading. I don’t believe in classes where students criticize each other’s manuscripts. Such criticism is generally composed in equal parts of ignorance, flattery, and spite. It’s the blind leading the blind, and it can be dangerous. A teacher who tries to impose a way of writing on you can be dangerous, too. Fortunately, most teachers I’ve known were too lazy to do this. In any case, you should beware of those who appear overenergetic.”
Flannery O’Connor, “The Nature and Aim of Fiction,” Mystery and Manners: Occasional Prose
Woody Allen said: Not only is the glass half-empty, but it contains poison.
From one pessimistic, cynic to another:
I’d rather the honest truth than insincere flattery. Tell me my stuff sucks and I’ll work hard to make it better. Tell me it’s great and either you are lying or I’m dreaming. Yes, I think there are good, even great writers who are still unpubbed. But the best writers never got there without rejection and scathing critique. The whiners who didn’t final should stop and concentrate on developing a thick skin because it will only get worse
Great post, Mike! S
I’m basically an optimist, but I also have a well-developed and carefully guarded sense of humor. In the grand, cosmic, Genesis (the book, not the contest)-to-Revelation scheme of things, my attempts to be the center of the universe become absurd and intensely amusing.
My optimism lies in the firm assurance that God is on His throne conducting this crazy symphony. All I really want to do is ring my cowbell when he gives me the cue. Who knows? Maybe the day will come when He says, “I need more cowbell!” My job is to keep practicing so I’ll be ready.
“MORE COWBELL!”
Just thinking about that SNL skit sends me into a fit of giggles.
Mir
Those of you who get a chance to judge this or another contest, jump at it. It’s helped me as much as anything. You realize that every cliche, or nagging doubt, or mediocre description, does matter. Every nagging doubt I had as an entrant was pointed out by my judges. Even as a finalist, I was constructively ripped. I think maybe there was one comment out of 6 score sheets I’m not sure I agree with. I’ll chew on it awhile though. Great experience on both ends.
As for you, I was very surprised you didn’t final. I just a table at the Blue Ridge Mtn Writer’s Conference I had a guy in my critique group who was the next Ted Dekker. You’re an amazing talent but it’s a journey.
That was supposed to say: I just told a table I was dining with I was in a critique group with the next Ted Dekker. Sorry, it’s late.
Amen on this post, Mike. The back-pats feel good, but the beating is what really helps. It’s taken time for me to learn to take tough crits, but it’s worth it. Judging is definately subjective. (that’s why my non-finalling entry received scores in the 80’s and 90’s from 3 judges and a 54 from another). You can write cicles around me, and I know you don’t need Genesis to get where you’re going:) It’s fun to final, and I’m enjoying it, but it is what it is.
Hey, Mike,
Resident Pollyanna here.
I can’t be a pessamist. Just can’t do it. I’ve tried.
Can I be a bouncy ball instead? Like a super ball that whizzes all over the room and crashes off of all extremes.
If I promise to continue to pursue the craft of writing?
Please let me be the mascot if nothing else.