The critic made me give up writing fiction for a decade.
Their review was so scathing that I couldn’t hear the positive feedback of others.
It was so publicly assertive that I swore to pulp every copy and cease writing for good.
Suddenly, their critique held greater authority than even my own experience.
Though others petitioned me not to react, I took that withering critique to heart.
In fact, my reaction was immediate, causing me to withdraw everything at once.
Much of their criticism was warranted, true, and fair. It made me see the error of my ways.
Yet, looking back twelve years later, I now see what I couldn’t see then.
That some of their appraisal was without value. That their review was founded on their own experiences and biases.
It took me a decade to revisit that work of fiction. Two years ago, I thought I was on the verge of rehabilitating it.
But the critic casts a long shadow. Thus, does that book languish more or less abandoned.
Who knows if it will ever see the light of day?
The critic has the power, with a few well chosen words, to destroy the timid writer’s life work.
They do not witness the years of effort, the inner anguish, the heavy blues, the edits, re-edits, and whole chapters cast aside.
Theirs is the power to destroy both the writer and their writing. Is it any wonder we’re loathe to go there again?
Who dares brave the critic’s pen?
Last modified: 20 May 2024
