Learning The Critical Difference Between Critique and Criticism.
The key to loving rejection
Rejection, much like the sun, shines on all writers — good, bad, emerging, well known. A multitude of idioms, blog posts, articles, essays, and books have been written on the subject of rejection as one of the indisputable and agonizing difficulties writers face. One of the most gut-wrenching quotes on rejection comes from Isaac Asimov who said:
“Rejections slips, or form letters, however tactfully phrased, are lacerations of the soul, if not quite inventions of the devil — but there is no way around them.”
Rejection toughens your skin, they say. Like Asimov’s “lacerations,” rejection cauterizes, creating scar tissue. It is a violence directed at the very “soul” of the writer. This is true, but only if you understand rejection as criticism. As a pointed decree from the editorial elite striking you down, cutting you off at the knees, an edict clearly and plainly stated:
Thou hast no talent whatsoever.
Many writers feel this way about rejection and it makes perfect sense! We’ve been taught that critique is the same as criticism. When I used to teach critical theory, students had a really difficult time understanding that critique and criticism aren’t the same things. But they’re very different! And if you understand them as such, you’ll be able to receive rejection gladly. Maybe even with open arms.
The difference between critique and criticism.
The main and massive difference between these two concepts is that one opens up and allows for generative growth and the other shuts down, stunts.
Neil Gaiman offers us a lucid understanding of this when he reminds us that:
“When people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.”
Let’s break it down — a lot of times when we receive a rejection letter there isn’t a note attached or editorial feedback. Plenty of writers and editors have written on the form rejection letter, so I won’t take up too much time here unpacking the myriad of benign reasons you might receive one. It just means the piece wasn’t right for that editor at that time.
That said, sometimes you’ll get some feedback. Now, some people will tell you not to get angry when you get a rejection letter. I say do it. Get angry. In fact, get hurt, and defensive too. Grab your favorite throw pillow, shove your face in it, and with all you’ve got tell them to eff the right off. Once you’ve done that take a minute, wash your face if you need to. It’s okay. I’ll wait.
Then look again.
Ask yourself — is there any part of this that’s true?
If, as Gaiman offers, the editor has taken time to write you a note saying what didn’t work for them. Ask yourself, is there any part of that that could be true? Is there any possibility that your narrative does lose focus? Is it possible that your character arch doesn’t make sense? Could it be that, gosh, would you look at that, you did change your main character’s name partway through your story without explanation!
That last one might be an extreme example, but it happens. In the fury of our genius we sometimes believe we are infallible. For argument’s sake let’s say that once you were done writing a piece you read it, then read it again, then you put it aside and reworked the ending. Let’s just say that you got yourself a beta reader too. You could do all these things and you might still have a hitch in your giddy-up. It’s possible!
An editor pointing out where something just doesn’t work for them is offering critique, not criticism.
The gas pedal and the emergency brake.
Critique opens up avenues for new exploration. It’s a nudge. Nothing more. Basically the editor is motioning to a corner saying, “Hey, did you look over there? Check that spot out, then try again.” The onus is on you to look, to explore, to be curious. The emotional difference between critique and criticism is that feeling you get in your belly — once you’re done yelling and crying and telling that editor off in your mind if you can look in the corner and acknowledge that you didn’t actually look there, then that’s critique. It’s when your belly goes from roiling boil to a quiet simmer. It’s only then that you can see that editor was being a straight-up pal!
Critique is the gas pedal that allows you to move forward. It leads to new avenues of exploration and conversation. It offers perspective, an opportunity to move beyond yourself as a writer, putting you in the position of the reader. If you can step outside yourself to see what the editor saw, you’ll be able to move forward in generative ways.
Criticism on the other hand shuts down. It’s the emergency break that stops you and your project cold. How can you tell the difference? Again, ask yourself — is there any part of this feedback that could be true? So they said your story was didactic, pedestrian, or formulaic. It could be so. Take a look in the corner and see for yourself. Maybe you’ll be surprised! Critique! That said, if someone read your work and said, “good luck finding a home for this.” Maybe see that comment for what it is, criticism, and just walk away.
If that editor didn’t offer you a suggestion to check out what’s in the corner, and instead told you that you and your writing are trash, then that’s criticism and it’s not worth your time. If there’s no nudge, no wink, no head tilt, if there’s no helpful offer to take another look at what could be better where you as the writer get to discover what you left lurking in that dark corner, then don’t bother with it. Criticism shuts down creativity. It severs you from your writing.
A small step but a giant leap.
Let’s take one last look at a famous quote about rejection. This time from Sylvia Plath, who gave us the short and sweet on how we should take rejection. She said,
“I love my rejection slips. They show me I try.”
A letter of rejection means that you were brave. You tried! You wrote something and you let someone else read it and that takes guts, my friend. So many writers are afraid of rejection that they never push that submit button. Like, never. If you got a note, even a form letter, that means that you tried. You put yourself out there and that’s a huge accomplishment!
Rejection paired with curiosity can make you a better writer by helping you see into those poorly-lit corners of your writing. Read with an inquiring mind and a critical nose to sniff out criticism from critique. If you can do that, a rejection letter can put you one step closer to getting that piece just right.
