Laura Barrow Laura Barrow

Advice from one terrified writer to another…

Like many writers, I’m an introvert through and through. Given the choice between socializing with a room full of people and staying in bed with a good book, I’d choose the latter every time. Which is why publishing my debut novel has been equal parts amazing and terrifying. Perhaps that’s why so many people compare the process to bringing a baby into the world. But I digress. No one is ever going to tell you they don’t like your baby, but they will most definitely tell you they don’t like your book.

A couple of months ago, the story that once lived inside my imagination and behind the password protected security of my laptop was sent out into the world in multiple formats, and I have zero control over how it is received. As a recovering people pleaser, whenever I reflect upon this terrifying fact, I undergo a series of mini panic attacks because I am suddenly acutely aware that not everyone will like it. Some people may even hate it. At this point, I usually spiral through a few worst-case scenarios that involve one-star reviews, book burning, and public shaming. Finally, I ask myself, “Would it have been better for my mental health to have never written this thing at all?”

I suppose Elbert Hubbard was right when he wrote, “Do nothing, say nothing, and be nothing, and you’ll never be criticized.” But the more I think about that phrase, the more I realize that I am not writing to find out what other people think of me. I’m writing to find out what I think about myself. I’m writing to make sense of a world that often times feels inexplicable and chaotic and cruel while at the same time achingly beautiful. I am writing to more fully understand the human experience. And that does not come without a price.

If we want to put any piece of ourselves out into the world, we are going to be criticized. Given in the right way, some criticism can help propel us to places in our writing we never could have reached alone. A supportive critique group, an astute agent, or a savvy editor can point out weaknesses that we are too blind to see because we are too close to the work. As a writer, I find that if I want to improve, I have to be willing to hear this kind of criticism and sit with it until I can decide how best to apply it. The most successful novelists will tell you that a little bit of humility can go a long way in making a manuscript shine. But some criticism will never make us better because it is only intended to tear us down, and over the years, I’ve gotten much better at deciphering between the two. As I sort out the helpful from the mean-spirited, the socially conscious/terrified middle schooler inside of me has finally accepted the fact that not everyone will like my work. Or me for that matter.

Reading, like all forms of art, is subjective. And since there’s no way to please everyone, you might as well write what you want. Once I remind myself of this indisputable truth, my heart slows and the world stops spinning and I feel just a little bit lighter and stand a little bit straighter. If you’re like me and suffer from a fear of being disliked, be true to the story in your heart, and let the chips fall where they may. Accept the fact that no matter how hard you may try, you’ll never be everyone’s cup of tea. And that’s OK. Personally, I hate tea. But maybe you’ll can be someone’s cold can of Coke Zero or a tall glass of strawberry lemonade or a pumpkin spice latte. The possibilities are as endless as the sticky pages of a Cheesecake Factory menu! So, friends, consider this your reminder to not let your anxiety keep you from doing the thing you’re most passionate about. Because if the worst thing that can happen is someone not liking you, isn’t that a risk worth taking?

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