✍️ How to Deal with Being Vulnerable with Your Writing
or, How to Take that Giant Leap from “End” to “Send”
I just sent out a short story to a writing friend. Like, an hour ago.
I like to talk about other writers in my anecdotes, partly because I don’t want to come off as self-important, and partly because Neil Gaiman, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Margaret Atwood have led wildly more exciting lives than I do. But I’ve recently underwent what I believe to be a typical writerly experience that could potentially trigger fear, doubt, and self-loathing in writers. I did feel these things a little bit, but not nearly as intensely. I think time and experience has helped that. So, given my recent and intimate knowledge on this subject, now is a good time to talk about taking the leap to showing and/or submitting your work.
Some back story: last Wednesday, during a meeting with one of my writing groups, the topic of flash fiction came up. I related how I had a piece of flash fiction that I really liked, and had sent it out to a couple of contests. One contest had an option to get professional feedback, whether or not it won.
Long story short, the piece didn’t win anything and the reviewer didn’t like the story.
The slightly longer version: I got a sense from the reviewer that they didn’t quite “get” what I was trying to say in the story. In any case, while relaying this to my writing group, I said that I thought there was something to my flash fiction piece, that I loved it (I know: the kiss of death), and that I wasn’t sure if it was my fault or the reviewer’s that they didn’t get the story.
One writer, Vera Constantineau, offered to read it for me to get some feedback, and I took her up on it. I revisited the story, then sent it off to her, reassuring her that I was open to any or all feedback.
But Still...
As mentioned, that was moments ago, so I obviously haven’t heard back yet. That’s not really the point.
The point is that, despite sending things out for review every single day of my working life, I did feel a little flutter of vulnerability when I sent out this personal piece to my friend. One hundred per cent, it’s different sending out my own writing rather than my day-job writing.
But still...
But still, why do we feel so vulnerable? Part of it is probably because our self-worth is attached somehow to being a writer. I’ve developed a thicker skin over time, and it now takes a lot for me to be embarrassed or gutted when someone says it’s no good. I do realize that just as no one has a monopoly on the truth, not everyone is going to understand or appreciate my work. Plus, as another writer friend of mine, Marion Agnew, has said many times, you are not your work.
But still...
Maybe part of it is because many (most?) writers truly do want to connect with readers. Hearing that you’re not connecting – that you failed to connect – is disheartening. It leads to questions like, what am I doing wrong? Why aren’t I a good writer? Why does Neil Gaiman, that bastard, have to rub it in my face every day with his books just sitting there haughtily on my bookshelf?
Yeah, writers can go from zero to off a cliff in a blink of an eye. I had to learn over the years that just because I didn’t get it right this time doesn’t mean it’s over. I learned that, hey, I can rewrite again. And again and again, if need be. Eventually, I can get it right.
But still...
Why am I spending so much time writing something that, even if it did win an award or got published somewhere, would bring my fifty bucks if I was lucky? Why am I banging my head against a wall when I could be swishing through the slalom of my day job writing, making a bit of money to pay the mortgage? I had to reassure myself that, yes, money’s important to live, but so is art. I’m banging my head for the sake of getting better. There’s value in that, even if it’s not monetizable value.
But still...
Why does it feel like I’m ripping my heart out and giving it to someone to judge, opening it up and putting it on a tray so that they can throw to the floor and beat with a meat tenderizer before letting the dogs have at it?
Because, I slowly came to realize, that’s just how it works. If I don’t like it, I can throw on Netflix and spend my time that way.
How to Get Over Yourself and Send It Out!
Some writers like to stick their work in the metaphorical drawer forever. Although it pains me to hear this, I respect that writers ultimately have full decision-making powers to do whatever they hell they want with their writing.
But if you have the slightest inclination to share your work, even with a few friends or family members, and you feel that twinge of anxiety coming on, here are a few ideas that may help get you over the hump:
Realize you are not your work. It’s this thing that yes, you’ve created, but your value as a person does not hinge on the value of this writing. Send it out!
Realize that not everyone is going to like your writing – your writing isn’t for everyone. This is a tough one to swallow sometimes. But, as I’ve said many times in these pages, not everyone likes F. Scott Fitzgerald. That doesn’t mean he’s a bad writer. It just means his work doesn’t resonate with those people. Send it out!
Realize that everything is fixable. We all have blind spots. That’s why we need other sets of eyes on our work to let us know what’s working or what’s not. Even Neil Gaiman has editors who point out things he missed. Do we really think we should be outperforming Neil Gaiman? He rewrites and polishes, and he can’t do that without feedback. The same is true for us. Send it out!
Realize that art for the sake of art is worth doing. Maybe you’re not going to win a Booker Prize or even Honourable Mention in Buddy’s LitJourn. So what? Write it anyway. Make it the best it can be. Then, (wait for it...) send it out!
Realize your heart might get stomped anyway. Even if you do all these things, you might get hurt. Writing is like love that way – there are big rewards if you put yourself out there, but there is also the risk of pain, heartache, and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. (Wait – is that last one really the bad thing those Hallmark movies make it out to be?) Send it out!
An important side note: I thanked that person via Twitter for taking the time to review my work. Even though I don’t think they “got” the story. Even though they didn’t like it in any case. Reviewing someone else’s work takes vulnerability, too. I feel it’s important to be appreciative of any and all feedback you ask for, whether it is what you wanted to hear or not.
Key Takeaway: Most writers feel vulnerable showing and/or submitting their work. Like love, putting yourself out there involves risking getting your heart stomped. On the other hand, the rewards can be huge. Besides, it gets easier and easier to share your work the more you do it. Send it out!
Over to You: How Do You Overcome Doubts and Vulnerability?
Any tips you can share for helping us feel less anxiety? Or maybe you have a trick you use to send it out despite the fears pressing your heart like a broken doorbell? Let us know in the comments below!
In the meantime, I’ll leave you with a funny little video I found on How to Be a Terrible Writer. I laughed. Takes the sting out of any vulnerability! Scroll down to view it.
Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!
~Graham
email me if you get lost.
I can’t be the only reader who hopes that you’ll share that story with us? Perhaps after you revise it?
LOL I might have hollered YOU ARE NOT YOUR WORK a time or two. Congrats on sending something for feedback.