Into the Fire

At some point in my life – I'm not sure when – I learned to put away victories and keep marching on. What has always been tougher to put away are those numerous defeats. They tend to stall my forward progress and suggest I give up. Those "suggestions" seem to initiate the biggest response.

Giving up is not my nature. Thinking about it: definitely is.

There should be a designated place for "defeats". Someplace to put them away. Professional athletes and other competitors must learn to quickly analyze the reasons for defeat and just as quickly put them away.

We've all heard "Learn from your mistakes" one too many times, but what do you do when you didn't make a "mistake"? When writing a novel, there are many kinds of mistakes to be made. Not fleshing out sympathetic characters, leaving plot holes, breaking the writing rules ineffectively, and so on. But sometimes you tell a story and some people don't like it. They tell the world why in curt criticisms, perhaps adding brutal sarcasms, and overall trash what took a piece of your life to put on the page.

It's possible we can make multiple mistakes when writing novels, but it's just as possible that readers will love the story as it is or hate it for personal reasons unrelated to those "mistakes". If an unintended reader from a non-target audience picks up your book and is floored by your brashness, your unholy diatribe, look for equally unholy comments. If you write of faith and an unbeliever resents it, look out. They tend to annihilate faith authors with every accusation manufactured by their resentful hearts.

Hearing "Don't take it personally" is a joke to me. How can we not? We wrote the story. It's definitely personal.

I cherish good reviews or comments on my work. Be it a blog post or a novel, I love to hear that people enjoyed it, identified with it, or "got" it. It's affirming and reinforces the passion to continue. But, just as with the bad reviews or comments, I must put them away. I can always open the place where they both exist and mull them over, smile or cry, but in order to move on, I've got to put them away. I can only suggest you do the same.

Father, you desire humility and will actively help us to remain humble. Writing is definitely a humbling experience, but I love it and thank you for it. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.