Chapter Eight. Critical Creativity

The creative spirit may be fierce, but it’s also fragile—and the quickest way to crush it is with cold-hearted critique. Yet it’s both impossible and inadvisable to live in a world without criticism. Even though it can stifle us, criticism isn’t inherently bad. It can be corrosive, but it can also sharpen the edge. And critique is indispensable to creative growth. Without critique, the quality of one’s creative output can collapse. That’s what happened when the office of the “Devil’s Advocate” was phased out.

In the late 1500s, Pope Sixtus V established a new position in the Roman Catholic church to help determine who should become a saint. Only the most faithful and respected were considered for the job of Promotor Fidei (Promoter of the Faith) or Advocatus Diaboli (Devil’s Advocate).

My friend Travis runs a highly successful fashion brand. In order to keep his company on course, once a year he brings in devil’s advocates to identify weakness and blind spots. Travis explains, “Critique can distract, but it can also clarify. For us, listening to critique provides a healthy tension that strengthens the brand.” The type of people that Travis brings in are those he trusts. We all know that getting critique from any old stray dog brings with it rabies and fleas. So Travis chooses reputable people that have his best interests in mind. His annual sessions with the devil’s advocates generate growth.

Sometimes it’s worthwhile to invite the critics over for dinner, and other times to fight against them tooth and nail. My mind flooded with criticism as I prepared to write this book. So I hastily wrote out my thoughts: “*&%#! the critics. Let them feel smug because they were able to find someone else’s faults. And I will know full well that I have given it my best to make my life, relationships, vocation, and this book works of art.” It was cathartic to lash out at the invisible critics who were holding me back.

Next, I turned to one of my literary heroes, Jack London, and reread what was said about him. His biographer Earl Labor wrote, “Because he wrote so clearly that anybody with a good basic education could understand what he was saying, Jack put the critics out of business.” The critics were confused because his literary greatness was down-to-earth and anchored in the reality of living with the same ferocity and tenacity with which he wrote. As one literary critic wrote, “The greatest story Jack London ever wrote was the story he lived.” This was a turning point for me—writing isn’t about words but about life. My creative project (this book) wasn’t going to be theoretical and fake, but anchored in who I am and how I live.

London lived with such a fierce passion that it was not his work but the life he lived that was the true story—almost as if his work and life were one and the same. In London’s own words, “I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.” Those words were a credo that guided his life and kept the critics far away.

The problem with most of us is that we have recruited the wrong critics. Unknowingly, we have accepted the critical voices that we carry around in our heads. These voices distract, scratch, bite, and nag—whether it’s your mom’s disappointment, or the judgment of a colleague or friend. The number one reason that we don’t take creative risks? Because we are afraid. We’re afraid that these voices might be right. We’re afraid that we aren’t very good. We’re afraid that we’ll look like a fool. So we give these voices more credit than they deserve. One way to stop the voices from from stealing your dreams is to create a paradigm and a plan.

Another paradigm is to see critique as a catalyst for change. Travis, my friend with the fashion brand, has adopted this paradigm—rather than being afraid of critique, he encourages it. This doesn’t happen every day, as too much critique would decrease morale. He does this once or twice a year. This paradigm can also be helpful when critique comes in an unexpected way. When famed architect Frank Gehry took his first architecture course at USC, he failed miserably. The instructor told him to drop out of the major and never take another architecture class. Gehry saw this as a challenge and enrolled in the class again and got an A. It is this type of tenacity that has marked his world-famous career. His path is defined by what other people say can’t be done. For Gehry, critique isn’t an enemy but a friend.

Jack London’s paradigm was one in which he mostly ignored the critics and threw himself into the adventure of living life—from learning to surf in Honolulu to sailing around the world. Jack was aware when the critics didn’t like his work, but he didn’t let that hold him back.

When it comes to selecting promoters of the faith or devil’s advocates, my list is short. I have a handful of colleagues and friends that I can trust. I’m confident that these people have my best interests in mind and that they can handle my uncertainty, successes, and mistakes. I learned long ago that you can’t bear your soul to certain friends. That’s OK. Being open and vulnerable isn’t being dumb. But when it comes to inviting people to evaluate and reflect on what you have done, fewer is best. I suggest no more than five.

Next, when it comes to asking someone to evaluate your work, how you ask for critique will determine the response. Ben Decker, a global communications expert who coaches business leaders like Charles Schwab, explains that critique must always be complemented with encouraging words. Decker encourages a 3x3 approach: three positives and three areas for improvement. Whether you are asking for feedback or giving it out, this approach makes the more difficult messages easier to hear.

Another important strategy to have in place is one that deals with the unsolicited feedback that catches you off guard. Such unfiltered critique can have a toxic effect. You need to decide how to handle and process the negative comments you are bound to get. I like to think of these messages as suspicious-looking packages that arrive at your front door. I set them aside and then deal with them after the rush. After opening the package, I review the message and consider the source.

A well-known photographer and colleague of mine doesn’t like my photography at all. And I don’t like his. So whenever he makes a critical comment about my work, I write it off. I can do this with confidence because I’ve thought about the source. You can’t listen to every comment with equal weight. As an artist, the goal isn’t to be liked by all. You have to choose where you are going to stand and then shine your light. Complying with every critical word will make your head spin. As Anne Lamott put it, “Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining.” With your feet firmly planted, you have to decide what to shine and where to stand.

Another time I received a lackluster review for one of my photography books. I had poured my heart and soul into that project, so this critique hurt. After reading the review, I Googled the guy who made the negative remarks. It turned out that the review came from a retired lawyer who was a mediocre photographer at best. Ha! I thought to myself. Then I dug deeper to find that the quality and accuracy of his book reviews was good. So I read the review again and discovered that his critique was not about me but about the structure and form of the book. He wasn’t being unfair; his words were right on the mark. So I decided to take to heart what he had to say. The result was some advice that has helped me advance my writing career.

The most scathing letter I have ever received came from a client. After reading the letter, I was shocked, embarrassed, ashamed, and confused. A few days later, the swelling still hadn’t gone down, so I forwarded it to Dane, one of my trusted colleagues and friends. Dane responded with a one-page letter that began with the words “This is poison.” His response was salve to my wounds. We all need friendships like this. Without them the poison settles in, but with them it lessens the sting.

Dealing with critique in private makes it worse. When you are seriously wounded, it’s nearly impossible to operate on yourself. If you don’t have someone to talk to about your battle wounds, it’s time to make a change. Find a friend, mentor, colleague, therapist, religious leader, or relative who can help you make sense of the mistakes you are bound to make. Start with a small issue to test how this person will respond. Then share more only if you sense respect and thoughtfulness in the way they respond.

HE HAS A RIGHT TO CRITICIZE, WHO HAS A HEART TO HELP.

— ABRAHAM LINCOLN