Lynn H. Blackburn

Please indulge me this Monday morning as we take a trip to the archives. My family is recovering from a 10 day battle with a nasty stomach virus. And I am recovering from some of the harshest criticism my writing has ever received. This post seemed appropriate. Grace and peace to all of you!

Originally posted 7/20/10.

I’m a wimp.

A cream puff.

A
marshmallow.

I’m so not cut out to be a
writer.

I’m anaphylactically allergic to criticism. And this
doesn’t apply only to my writing life. This is just who I am. I have the type of
personality that always wants to be right. Not in the “I’m right and you’re
wrong” way but in the “I’ll die of humiliation if I answer the question wrong so
I’m not going to raise my hand, even though I know the answer” way.

The
upside to being paranoid about making mistakes is that it has made me into a
very conscientious person. If you ask me to do something, I’ll do it. And then
I’ll go over it 100 times to be sure it’s right. And then I’ll call you a few
days later to see if it met your expectations.

Again. I shouldn’t
be writing.

Because all writing requires some form of criticism.

And criticism + Lynn = hyperventilation.

Each time I send a
writing sample off to someone, whether it’s for an assignment, or a guest blog,
or because they asked to read a few chapters of my book, it just about kills
me.

OK. I’ll admit that I’m a teensy bit prone to
exaggeration.

But the heart palpitations, sweaty palms, upset
stomach. Aren’t those symptoms of dreadful things — like heart
attacks?

So what’s a writer to do? When all the traditional
advice says that she must develop a thick skin if she’s going to survive but
when the transformation from thin to thick-skinned would require a personality
transplant?

I tend to assume that thick-skinned people send off their
work and don’t worry about it. They don’t spend time refreshing their email in
case someone has commented on their blog and their hands don’t shake when they
open up an email that will tell them whether their work has been accepted for
publication. They certainly don’t lose sleep over what some anonymous person
said about their book in an Amazon review.

But maybe — just maybe
— that isn’t the case at all.

Maybe the thick-skinned person
isn’t the person who stands tall and lets the waves of criticism roll by.

Maybe the thick-skinned person is the one the waves of criticism throw
to the ocean floor and keep them submerged so long they begin to wonder if
they’ll ever surface.

But when they are finally able to catch their
breath, they don’t run for the shore.

They stand up.

And let the waves do it all over again.

““““““““““““““““““““““““““““`

3 gifts found outside . . .

1. Children, returned to health, giggling in the yard
2. Fresh, unseasonably warm air
3. Cheeky squirrels

You can find
all my Joy
Dare 2012 entries here.