Bane of the Soft Critic

Mike’s stories have appeared in Relief Journal, Forgotten Worlds, Alienskin, and Dragons, Knights and Angels, with articles in The Matthew’s House Project and Relevant Magazine. He was also one of ten authors picked for Infuze Magazine’s Best of 2005 print anthology. Mike is an ordained minister, has led numerous small groups and developed discipleship-training curriculum for several churches. He and his wife Lisa live in Southern California , where they have raised four children. Mike has written an unpublished novel entitled What Faith Awakes and is currently at work on a second. You can visit him at http://www.mikeduran.com/.

“I survived Catholic school,” or so said the bumper sticker on the car ahead of me. I had to chuckle because I did – survive Catholic school, that is. Nine years of it. In fact, not only did I survive Catholic school, I thrived there. By the time I entered the public school system in 9th grade, I was way ahead of my peers. Why were these kids so dumb, I thought? The answer was simple – they didn’t get their knuckles whacked enough.

Back then, corporal punishment was not politically incorrect. Not only did Dad freely use his belt when my grades dipped below acceptable, Sister Terence wielded a mean ruler. Gifted in the art of ear-twisting, she could wrench the lobe with such force so as to bring a schoolboy to his knees. Between the belt and the ruler, I found sufficient motivation to maintain my GPA. So yeah, I survived Catholic school, and I’m better off for it.

Yet, little did I know, Sister Terence followed me. Several years back, I was invited to join a critique group. It was my first. Things went well until I submitted my first piece. And there she was – lurking, ruler in hand, stern eye cast upon my paltry prose. She went by many names – Ane, Gina, Jessica – but she didn’t fool me. It was Sister T! Her motivation was pure and her mission singular: to make me a better writer. Nevertheless, this knowledge did not soften the sting. That first year was a carousel of knuckle raps and ear twists. Had I been a less seasoned soul, I’d have run from the drubbing, like so many do. But Sister Terence had my best in mind, and I’ve got the welts to prove it.

Samuel Rutherford declared, “O, what owe I to the file, to the hammer, to the furnace of my Lord Jesus!” Character is not without cost. Likewise, the skilled writer is one who pays the price, one who endures “the file, the hammer and the furnace” of critique. In fact, the better it is, the more painful and pointed. Like that ruler, good critique demands immediate attention and, in the end, we owe much to those who wield it well.

However, not all writers appreciate the hard critic.

Recently, a newer member of our group was offended by a critique of their work. From my perspective, the observations in question were not unfounded, nor mean-spirited. They were honest – blunt but genuine. Nevertheless, the author huffed off, hot and bothered, by what they perceived as non-niceties. And they will not be returning. It led to a discussion about the need for honesty. It’s better to give a hard crit, we agreed, than to be disingenuous. We can’t be stroking each other at the expense of good writing. In fact, one of the gals used this analogy: “It’s like asking someone how a new pair of jeans looks on me, and then being offended when they tell me my butt looks big in them.”

A bad crit group is one who will never tell you your butt looks big in those jeans.

“Faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful” (Proverbs 27:6 KJV). Alas, how many Christian critique groups are filled with deceitful kisses? “You’re destined for publication,” says one. “Any day now,” says another. And the capper: “You’re the next Kingsbury / Grisham / Rowling / Picoult (fill in the blank).” No wonder so many authors quell at hard critiques – they haven’t got their knuckles whacked enough.
Perhaps we would produce better writers were we not so concerned about “wounding” them. Of course, this is not to condone nastiness and nit-pickiness, as though our advice is infallible. But the road to publication is hardly a cake walk. How in the world will we ever endure the meticulous bean counters and editorial boards if we can’t endure the hard critique of a friend?

“As iron sharpens iron,” said the wise man. “So one man sharpens another” (Proverbs 27:17 NIV). Clay cannot sharpen iron. Jello cannot sharpen iron. Iron sharpens iron! And when those elements meet, the sparks fly. Good relationships, like good critics, create friction. Thus, the best critic is the hard one, the one who doesn’t bend, the one who tells the truth, the one who grates against your rough edges.

And maybe that’s the divide – the divide between the hard critic and the soft critic, and the authors who gravitate to the one or the other.

While the hard critic may wound or offend, she also sharpens. The soft critic, on the other hand, strokes, placates and coddles the hypersensitive author. In proportion that praise pleases someone, criticism will grieve them. It’s no wonder that some writers are offended so easily – when you live in an echo chamber, contrary points of view are offensive. The writer who avoids “the hammer, the file and the furnace,” who forever seeks flattery, is doomed to mediocrity. Soft writing is the bane of the soft critic.

Sister Terence is not a soft critic, but she’s the best critic you will ever have. Yes, she will leave your ears rosy and your knuckles numb. But if you remain in that furnace, embrace the belt and the ruler, your writing will sharpen. Every good crit group should have a Sister T. Just don’t ask her if your butt looks big in those pants, because she’ll definitely tell you.