This post is going to be a little different than my usual posts because it’s not advice for writers. It’s actually more of a self-examination of an aspect of writing and how it affects me, personally. I’m going to be trying to add a little diversity to this blog and discuss this kind of thing more because, frankly, I think it might be a healthy thing and get me thinking in new ways.
Writing is hard. Pouring your soul out onto the page is not an easy task even when it’s just for you, but doing it in a way designed for public consumption is even harder. Not just because I’m afraid people will see my typos and grammar errors and think that I don’t know what I’m doing as an editor, but also because revealing that much of yourself is scary. I tend to be a very internal person. I don’t share much of myself with anybody. Even my husband and family oftentimes aren’t party to what’s going on in my head.
By contrast, writing a novel is like inviting everyone very deep into my psyche and giving them a guided tour.
That isn’t to say I hate doing it. I don’t. I love writing, and at this point, I’m comfortable enough with my words to share them with other people. Obviously, seeing as I’ve published a book and a small mountain of short stories this year. That said, it never stops being scary. It feels like any rejection of my work is almost a rejection of me, even though I know that isn’t the case. Now, I have the benefit of not being too worried about rejection of my manuscript because, frankly I’m publishing them with the publishing company I own. So, you know that’s a thing. But nonetheless, I still struggle with it at times.
All of that is compounded by the fact that with my neurodivergent brain, RSD is a real thing. RSD stands for “Rejection-Sensitive Dysphoria.” It’s characterized by the following:
- Feelings of severe anxiety or other negative emotions prior to anticipated rejection
- Difficulty seeing non-positive interactions (such as neutral or vague) as anything except rejection and reacting accordingly
- Overreacting to feelings of rejection leading to behavior that reflects that negativity such as anger, rage, depression, severe anxiety, etc.
- Levels of intense or overwhelming emotional pain associated with feeling rejected
(For more information, visit: this link )
It comes from the fact that our brains struggle with emotional regulation. While we are better at it as adults than we are as children, it doesn’t mean we are in less pain. We’ve just learned to manage it better a lot of the time. I still have the same stabbing, breath-stealing anguish when I feel rejected that I did when I was younger, but I now have the years of therapy to back myself up and create an inner dialogue.
If you don’t know, “neurodivergent” is a catch-all term for folks with a specific range of psychological makeup. While the term is still getting worked over, it usually references folks who have one or more (because they run in packs) of the following conditions:
- Autism Spectrum Disorder (formerly also called “Asperger’s”)
- Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD, also formerly called “ADD”)
- Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder
- Dyslexia
- Dysgraphia
- Dyscalculia
- Dyspraxia
(For more information, visit: this link)
There are other conditions or learning disabilities that are sometimes added onto the list, but this is the bulk of them. They all share a single, defining factor: our brains are wired differently. Not wrong, but differently.
So what does this have to do with writing?
Well, let’s start out by stating the fact that a lot of writing professionally is rejection. That isn’t to say that the answer is never “yes” but it’s “no” or critical a large percentage of the time. Working with beta readers, editors, reviewers, and so on is like sharing a raw nerve with the public. My editor and beta readers are wonderful people, to be clear. They are gentle, loving, supportive, and excellent at what they do. And I know they aren’t rejecting me if they tell me a story needs work. Not at all. My logical brain is quite aware of the fact that not every sentence and not every idea is pure gold. No matter how much I wish it was!
This struggle is somewhat universal in the sense that all writers go through similar rounds of difficulty and critique with their manuscripts. It’s never fun to be told your artistic baby isn’t perfect (and it never is), but we need that critique in order to grow. Just like we need to tell the emperor he’s got no clothes on. That said, a one-star review that another author might just laugh off or ignore might stick in a neurodivergent brain for years. I haven’t gotten a one-star review yet, but I’ve received unkind words from people that has lingered since childhood. The exact tone, the exact words, and all of it sticks in my brain like a Polaroid.
None of this is to say people shouldn’t leave honest reviews. If you really hate my book and want to leave a one-star review, I support your right to do so. It will definitely hurt, but it isn’t something I don’t know will happen someday. It’s a reality. Also, my stories aren’t for everyone, and if someone not in my target market buys my book and hates it… well… that’s nobody’s fault. I wouldn’t go to a country music festival and have a good time, no matter how good the music quality was. I just don’t like country. (Sorry, country fans!)
If you have a creative in your life — particularly one who is neurodivergent — please try to remember kindness. Or, even if you’re just reviewing a book. Temper that honesty with kindness and know that it’s a piece of someone’s soul you’re reviewing. And that piece is probably a little tender.
