I had a degree in math, and a passion for writing poetry. As a brand-new MFA student in the late 1980s, I hoped not just to learn all that I could, but to show off what I could do. A since-dead writer, quite famous at that time, was offering a workshop on nonfiction, which I had little experience writing. I no longer remember the assignment, but for some reason, thought I should write something light and silly.
A few weeks later, my paper came back, with a note scrawled by that famous hand in scorching red ink across the top. I no longer remember his exact phrasing, but the general message was that I had composed the most idiotic thing he had ever read, and he marveled that I was in a graduate degree program. My piece had made me laugh–his note made me cry.
But then, it made me angry. He wanted serious? He wanted insights? He wanted relevance? I could do that, too. I resubmitted the paper and a week later, got another note, “You’ve shown me you’ve got what it takes to be a writer–you rewrote.”
So much of writing is just that: rewriting, either because we know from experience or intuition that we have not landed the language, or because an editor tells us we are off the mark. Over the years, as I practiced my craft and made a living with it, I learned that criticism reflected nothing about my abilities as a writer–nor did it indicate that the critic was just an uninformed, writing wannabe. In fact, whenever my critics have been editors of publications large or small, they have known much more than I about what would appeal to their audiences. If I wanted to be a part of that process, I would need to revise and rewrite.
In the days when rewriting meant starting from scratch on my Selectric, the process itself was onerous. Now, although rewriting can tax my imagination and energy, it is easy enough to save old versions and tinker to my heart’s content.
The worst critic is always my own mind. A sculpture of a dancing Buddha on display at Storm King in the Hudson Valley is my go-to image for that demon. So often, that critic keeps me stuck on a blank screen. But when I push her aside, things start to happen. It is the image I share with middle-school writing classes, but my guess is that even old pros will see it, too.