Confidence and the Writer

One of my writing groups has a number of truly prolific and successful folks in it.  I was talking about this in my other writing group and someone asked, "Why do you think they're able to finish so much in such a  short time?"  It was a great question.  I had to think about it for a minute or two.  There was one person in particular I was thinking of.  When I thought about her, the word that came to mind was "confidence."  An enviable, and not inappropriate, healthy and powerful confidence in herself and in her writing that allows her to barrel ahead with fully realized worlds and adventures.

Now I'm hitting a snarled nest of a mess in the middle (of course!) of the magical realism nightmare I'm working on.  And it occurred to me that part of my problem is a lack of that confidence.  I second guess and second guess about where certain scenes should go and whether certain elements work or make sense or should it go here instead and before I know it, I've psyched myself out.  I lack confidence.

As writers, we should have a healthy capacity to reflect on our work, to look for ways to improve it.  We should be open to criticism.  We must be willing to revise, again and again.  And yet, that very willingness to revise can turn on us and render us and our work mediocre, wishy-washy, hesitant, unfocused, lacking in voice or style or originality.    

There is a fine line, of course, between confidence and arrogance.  Some writers believe their work is inherently the greatest literary achievement since Shakespeare, whether it's any good or not.  You hear agents talk about this all the time, the queries that declare how great they are in such hyperbolic terms that it's an insult by implication to every other writer.  

What gives some writers the kind of brash confidence that allows them to pitch flawlessly, to query with ferocity, to complete one draft after another without falling prey to the demons of self-doubt?  Maybe all writers are plagued by those demons, and some have a greater capacity and strength to withstand them.  Perhaps it is simply the personality we're given.  Maybe those of us who find confidence elusive manage to bring a vulnerability to our style instead.

So what does it mean to have confidence as a writer?  It means plowing ahead with a story wherever it may lead.  It means having faith in your own vision.  It means not only having the strength to hear, and accept criticism, but also to question it, interpret it and even refuse it.  It means decisiveness, forward momentum, stamina, completion.  

How does such confidence coexist with the capacity for honest, unflinching, realistic self-assessment?  Can it?

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly: Accepting Criticism

Confession time again.  I struggle with accepting criticism graciously.  Mind you, I've gotten SO much better at this over time.  I know it's an absolute must for anyone, especially writers.  There's no way to make progress and get better unless you stick your neck out and hear what folks have to say, the good, the bad and the ugly.  But, man, is it hard not to go on the defensive.  My rational brain is so skilled at sifting through and recognizing what's valid and what can be learned from any feedback.  But there's this other part, let's call her four-year-old Cindy, who throws tantrums in my head and screams "I hate you" and other nasty things unfit for public consumption, no matter how valid the criticism is.

I am reminded of this as the first round of feedback from the Critique-my-blog blogfest rolls in.  All of it has been wonderfully helpful, especially since this whole blogging world is so alien to me.  Unfortunately, four-year-old Cindy has been causing me a lot of trouble, pouting in the other room and saying nasty things about blogging, cyberspace and the digital age in general, not to mention my own efforts to get anywhere with my writing.  I'm trying to ignore her until she tires herself out.  I suggest you do the same if she starts any commotion during this post.

Over time, I've managed to tame the little wild thing version of myself.  I ask her to wait in the other room while my calmer, saner self nods at the poor soul critiquing me, dutifully takes notes, and says things like, "Good point" or "Let me fiddle with that."  But four-year-old Cindy doesn't like to stay still for long.  She's always trying to assert herself, no matter how much she promised to behave when she first sat down.

The thing is, I really like the wild thing.  She's got spunk, and, unlike Lou Grant, I love  spunk.  So, I don't want to squash her spirit.  Sometimes, I need that power to keep from crumpling up in a sad little ball of whimpiness.  She only throws fits because she cares passionately about stuff, and that's something I never want to lose.

Maybe I need to approach her the way I do so many of my more challenging students.  Help her get used to this whole criticism thing.  Give her a replacement behavior, a safe place to take a break and manage her big feelings without disrupting the group.  Maybe it's enough just to personify this side of me.  Am I the only one who does this?  Somehow, I doubt it.  Anyone else out there have a name, personality, perhaps even an image for this side of yourself?

Can You Wrestle With Your Critique Group?

I think I have one of the world's greatest critique partners.  She is reliable and she is relentless.  We've been part of the same weekly writing group for several years now.  The members have changed, but the two of us have stayed consistent and kept it going.  We have really different, complementary styles.  But the best thing about her is that I can argue and wrestle with her and she laughs and forgives me.

Now, I realize I shouldn't abuse this privilege.  I have no patience for people who can't handle feedback.  Why be in a critique group if you're not willing to be critiqued?  However, I've discovered something about myself.  I learn by wrestling through things.  I learn by arguing, discussing, disagreeing.

I don't get biblical on this blog too often, but I'm about to do it now.  You've been fairly warned.  There's a passage in the Bible where Jacob wrestles with an angel.  It's where the name Israel comes from and it means "he who wrestles with God."  I LOVE this story, because it absolutely contradicts the notion of blind obedience.  In fact, Jacob goes at it with the Lord Almighty, wins the match, and gets a blessing for it.    

My teacher self has another example.  The latest brain research shows that you build more neural connections from working on a difficult problem, whether you get the right answer or not, than from solving a problem you already know.  In fact, kids who struggled and wrestled and were taught the value of that PROCESS actually did better on post-assessments than students who were simply told how smart they were.  I have a feeling I'm not doing this particular bit of info justice, but the summary is - when you struggle to understand something, your brain grows.

So, back to my critique group.  As much as I fear I may drive poor Suzanne crazy with my questions and responses and arguments, I am so tremendously grateful that she doesn't write me off and let annoyance get the better of her because the process of wrestling with her is making my work better and me better as a writer.  And that is a blessing.

What battles and struggles have you found valuable?  Who are your favorite folks for a good intellectual wrestling match?