Let’s take a metaphorical journey into the Garden of Creativity. As your companion in this tale, I will share wizened words to guide you through the thorny tangles of those with malevolent intent as well as characters who, unintentionally, sometimes do harm.
You tend to your small square of creative self-expression as best you can, using the tools at your disposal (practice self-compassion, plan for rejection discomfort) to ward off seeds of discontent. As you create more, you want to explore what others are planting and hope to share together.
In the ginormous land that is the Garden of Creativity, you have many choices. The collectives abound, just look up and around. I encourage you to join a chattering of chicks and a bevy of doves (critique groups, workshops) or tap into a convocation of eagles or a cast of hawks (beta and sensitivity readers). Yet heed my caution: stay true to the purpose of your garden.
Bird poop-bombs
Recall that weeds come from seeds. Sometimes those seeds are wrapped in lush soil nutrients. I’m talking here about bird poop-bombs. All those birds in all the collectives mean well. Truly they do. So many comments, so much constructive criticism.
A young chick might have a saying — “Show Don’t Tell” — stuck in their birdbrain and apply that so-called rule to everything all the time without understanding the subtlety of your telling instead of showing. An eagle-eyed elder might feel threatened by your story’s LGBTQ+ protagonist and question its marketability.
Though these birdies don’t intend to attack you or your creativity, your Inner Critic joins the misbegotten chorus of rejection. How to get the squawking out of your head?
Plan for rejection discomfort. Practice self-compassion.
Remember that even if a beloved critique group member or highly esteemed workshop leader tells you something, you don’t need to automatically follow their opinion. Receive the criticism, consider if it’s constructive, and incorporate the comment or discard it. And move on.
Stay true to your creative self-expression.
But what of those with ill-intent? The malevolent ones hiding in the shadows?
When garden gnomes* attack
(*By which I actually mean trolls. Since trolls don’t fit with the Garden of Creativity setting, I decided to use gnomes. 🦄Creative license🦄)
We here at 100 Rejections Club are all about embracing rejection. But what if… you have something accepted? And it’s published? (Which is not guaranteed, see #0024.) We applaud those efforts, too, of course!
Yet, I’m sorry to say, I do needs proclaim: plan for seeds of discontent once your creative effort spreads across the landscape of the Garden of Creativity.
Garden gnomes are everywhere. High, low, every place you go. Mostly anonymous, full of self-hate (and often atrocious spellers). These garden gnomes misquote and misrepresent, ban books, twist facts. They load negativity onto the wood wide web, which propagates the nastiness and lies far and wide. Truly, madly, deeply, no-good, very bad — GRRR.
The best way to ward off this evil? I don’t really know, but here’s what I recommend: Make like a rock and armor up.
First, plan for nonsensical garden gnome attacks by suiting up in some magical attire: an adamantium helmet to safeguard your head (Logan) and a vibranium breastplate to protect your heart (Wakanda Forever).
Second, do not reply, respond, defend, or defuse these garden gnomes; instead of engaging in word warfare, demonstrate your keenness with the solidity of a silent asteroid in deep space. The more boring the rock, the more quickly the garden gnome gives up.
The best ways to weed out seeds of discontent?
Plan for rejection discomfort.
Practice self-compassion.
Stay true to your creative self-expression.
Most of the Garden of Creativity blooms with possibility. Don’t let a few weeds get in the way of your joy.
Next time: Create strategies to take the sting out of rejection
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