Don’t Criticize My Baby!

We writers are funny creatures. There’s no denying it. In fact, I’d say it’s a rather redeeming quality. And when it comes to defending our brainchild, hell hath no fury like a writer that faces even the most minute slice of criticism, even when we ask for it.

I had a recent experience that I have to share, as I know just about everyone on this platform can relate in one way or another. One of my biggest passions is worldbuilding. Something about digging into the guts of an idea of expanding on it further really gets my blood pumping. And seeing as I’m a relatively organized person, I live on outlines. From setting backgrounds to character descriptions and flaws, magic systems, restrictions, religions, beliefs, taboos and societal faux pas, I relish the opportunity to really flesh out the worlds of whatever I choose to write. Maybe I go a little overboard, but the military brat in me likes to be prepared for any and every possible outcome, even when it comes to my writing.

So as I usually do, I began to flesh out the world for one of my works in progress. The idea initially originated from one of the first submissions I ever wrote on Vocal (Row), which then expanded into writing out a backstory for the character who would become the main antagonist (Wrath of Heroes), which then mutated into an idea all its own after encouragement from friends, family, and a few fellow creators.

Ideas flooded across the screen, my fingers furiously flying across my keyboard while epic soundtracks drummed in my ears. I started fleshing out the magic system, dividing it into specific sections tied to the various heroes and gods of my brand new world, then asked the one question we writers have a rather tenuous relationship with: can you read this and tell me what you think?

Now, I have to say that my husband is one of my biggest supporters. He reads everything I write, whether it’s his thing or not, and does his best to offer feedback when I ask for it, but we both have different tastes. I’m a self-dubbed fantasy nerd. If it’s got dragons, magic, epic battles and heroic showdowns, curses, monsters, demons, whatever, I’m interested. Hubby loves sci-fi. I’m talking Dune (all 19 books and counting), the Foundation series by Asimov, Hyperion, etc. Much to my chagrin, the only fantasy he can point back to is Lord of the Rings or Avatar: The Last Air Bender (take note of this for later), but ask him about Dune and you’re in for a full, historical accounting of the entire series in chronological order and in painstaking detail. It’s actually cool to see how passionate he gets about it, no matter how much crap I give him.

Now enter the moment in question. As with everything else that ever springs from my keyboard, I asked my beloved to read what I’d written and tell me what he thinks. He mulled it over, focusing on the division of the magic system I’d created, then said the following: “It’s good, but how is this different from Avatar?”

My jaw just about hit the floor. “It’s completely different!” I exclaimed, then began the in-depth debate on how he was wrong and that he says that about every magic system that includes elemental powers, and so on and so forth, blah, blah, blah, *insert incessant ramblings here*. He just sighed, listened politely as he always does, then replied “You know I don’t know enough about fantasy to give good feedback, but you asked me to offer criticism, so there you go.”

Without much forethought, I then blurted out, “Yeah, but not for the wrong parts!”

He laughed at me, and after repeating the words in my head, I joined him. The sheer ridiculousness of the statement wasn’t lost on me, and neither was the deeper truth. Because that’s the real struggle, isn’t it? As writers, we ask for others’ feedback, then somehow find ourselves on the defensive whenever someone’s perspective doesn’t align with our expectations. We guard our ideas like a mother defending her child, ready to tear into whoever dares to say anything other than what’s politely expected. And it’s that very fear of what someone else might think of our work that keeps many talented writers huddled in the corner stroking their creative babies like Gollum obsessing over the Ring. God forbid someone looks at our Precious and says something critical.

But if all of the creative writing classes I’ve taken in the past have taught me anything, it’s that constructive criticism isn’t some monster lurking in the shadows waiting to devour our baby and spit out its bones. It’s a tool that, when properly applied, can hone our ideas into greater works of art. It’s a different perspective, a way to look at what we’ve created in a new light, and reshape it into something deeper and more meaningful. We just have to be willing to accept it for what it is.

After his feedback, I returned to my worldbuilding with renewed fervor. His insights, regardless of his limited interest or experience in the genre, helped me to expand my world in greater detail (and no, it really isn’t like ATLA). It’s definitely still in the beginning stages, but I’m beyond excited to see where the journey goes.

So with all that said and done, here’s the motivational part: don’t be afraid to let someone else read your baby. Do what you can to seek out constructive feedback whenever possible, whether it’s with a trusted friend or another writer working in the same genre, then don’t be discouraged if what’s returned isn’t what you expected. Take it to heart and reshape it into words. You just might be surprised by the positive effect it has on your work.