Thick Skin

Having thick skin is a necessity as a writer. I always want my writing to improve with each draft and absorbing others' criticism is vital. I know I've improved at taking criticism, but it's taken time and practice. The more I write, the more confidence I gain in my writing. The more criticism I get, the thicker my skin grows.

Sometimes throwing yourself to the wolves works, too. I got a jump start with the thick skin when I was in college. I took a poetry workshop and I loved it so much I decided to do a poetry minor. That meant lots and lots of workshops. For the first few workshops I had the most amazing instructor, Maureen Seaton. She's an amazing poet and an incredible human being. The only acceptable criticism in her class was the constructive kind and even if comments were negative, the vibe was always nurturing. In her class, when you offered feedback, your first comment always had to be positive. It's something I always do when I critique any one's work; lead with something positive. That way you always start off on the right foot. And after people here something complimentary I feel they're more receptive to what needs work.

I wrote about very personal subjects during these workshops. I think there was a lot of baggage I needed to expel, and in Maureen's workshops I felt safe enough to write about my love, hate, shame, grief. Everything. The same students and I had been through so many workshops together by this point, I felt close to them. I looked forward to what they were going to say about my work. I even had a poem published. I thought I was the next Adrienne Rich.

Near the end of my poetry minor, Maureen got offered a better job across the country and left. I took my advanced workshop with the head of the poetry department. He's a well-regarded poet who runs a successful literary journal. He was a nice enough guy. Most of my old colleagues were in this larger class, but there were a lot of new faces. The new guys were poetry majors. They had been in the advanced workshop with this instructor for two years. But I wasn't intimidated. I knew I was talented. Maureen had believed in me, so would my new instructor. Well, not so much. The feedback was all negative. I know poetry is subjective, all writing is, but my work was not well received. And I sat and watched as the language poets would write down random words all over the entire sheet of paper and the students would ooh and ahh over the white space on the paper. I puked in my mouth a little. I was still writing about subjects near and dear to me. One student called one of my poems "trite." It's the worst word you can hear as an artist: your work is trite. You may as well have just spat on my soul.

The whole vibe of the class was awful. It was negative and competitive. This was poetry. There is no reason to be competitive. There is no money to be made. Again, this is poetry. I felt the students were being nasty just for the sake of being nasty. My favorite comment was a snotty, "This is like a Billy Collins poem." Okay. Billy Collins was the Poet Laureate of the country at the time, and this opinion was given with a negative connotation. A number of my classmates nodded in disdain. I almost laughed out loud. This was like sneering, "This is like an Brian Helgeland screenplay." Even if you don't love his work, you have to respect his success. There is no way to negatively compare a screenwriter to Brian Helgeland. That would be insane.

So, I guess that's my best advice; take a poetry workshop, write about personal subjects and have your babies ripped to shreds. You might cry a little after class. Your love of poetry may wither and die. But you will have thick skin. And then you can start writing screenplays.