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21 September, 2000
So much of personal growth is a gradual process, that we don't realize just how far we've come until we are confronted with a reminder. I was confronted with such a reminder from an unexpected source.
Every month we host a writer's meeting. It's open to anyone who is willing to come abide by our simple guidelines: only read stuff you have written yourself (or have explicit permission to read aloud and get feedback), read works in progress, be willing to take feedback, be willing to make critiques on the other readings in a constuctive and respectful way.
We occasionally get newcomers. Sometimes they are associated with the fanzine we publish, sometimes not. One of the newcomers this month brought something to read. It had a few minor problems and one major problem. As folks in the room were trying to explain the minor problems, the author brushed the comments aside. Fair enough, it is his work and no one expects that every comment will be applicable.
But he also brushed aside the critiques of the major problem, even though several people in the room were agreeing. As one of our members who happens to be a professional editor and writer tried to explain the major problem, the author became cocky. His dismissal of the very politely offered advice was downright glib and condescending.
I had a flashback. I remembered a time when I made very similar comments to someone trying to help me. Even the little giggle that he made between his replies sounded hauntingly familar.
I didn't do what was done to me, years ago. I didn't call him a twit, still wet behind the ears with a lot to learn. I did, however, unleash that portion of my personality which my oldest friend first nicknamed "The Ogre" back when we were in high school together.
I didn't call him a twit. I didn't make any comments about him, at all. When the person tried to take me down a peg or two that way years ago, it didn't work. It probably just stiffened my resolve and made me even more insufferable for a while.
But I was blunt. I don't like to be rude. I did check in with a couple of my friends afterward, "Was I too mean? Was I rude?" One thought that I was more blunt and abrasive than normal, but she said I made it clear I was talking about the structure of the story, not the author or his ideas. The other thought I was right on the money.
No one likes to take criticism. We all know this, so sometimes we couch criticism in so many layers of politeness that the message is completely lost. Sometimes I think we do it on purpose. We can congratulate ourselves as having "tried" to tell them, but they weren't willing to listen. We've absolved ourselves of responsibility without risking a legitimate confrontation or discussion.
One of the things I value in my friends is honesty. I know I can count on them to tell me when I'm being a twit--and to do it in a constructive way. I don't always remember to thank them for it, though. I think I need to work on that. Because a lot of who I am is because of them. I don't regret much about my life, but I am very, very grateful that I outgrew some personality traits. At least somewhat.
And I hope I continue to make improvements. I'm sure there's plenty of room for them. I just need to remain willing to admit my shortcomings, seriously work on changing my behavior and attitudes when appropriate, and keep moving forward.
With a little help from my friends.
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This page is copyright 2000 by Gene Breshears. Photograph is copyright 1998 by Julie Rampke. All Rights Reserved.