A friend of mine on FaceBook prompted me to write this blog after she felt depressed about feedback she’d received from her writing group regarding a novel upon which she was working. She also felt a little guilty for feeling that way and was kicking herself because, feedback is what writers thrive on, isn’t it? It’s what we need in order to elevate our prose or whatever style we’re writing in to the next level.
Well, yes and no.
Let me explain. There are two types of feedback in this world and both involve the ‘C’ word. Of course, I mean Criticism.
The first kind is that delivered with knowledge and generosity – the knowledge springing from direct experience gleaned from the Critic being a writer and receiving feedback her or himself or from a deep understanding and love a literature generally or both. This kind of reviewer can be professional (as in reviewer is paid for their trouble) and published in newspapers, magazines, websites and other media or simply provided by a lover/fan/practitioner of writing and/or reading. the point being that none of these are mutually exclusive.
The second kind of review is that done with varying degrees of knowledge but most of all it is written with an ungenerous eye.
I know many writers and all of them tell me they have experienced both kinds. While a writer loves nothing better then a positive review, a negative review can be crushing. But it is the ungenerous, mean-spirited and destructive review that nitpicks and uses ad hominen attacks (attacking the person who wrote rather than the writing itself) that leave the worst kinds of scars and, frankly, I fail to see the point except to cause hurt and distress.
One very well known writer friend of mine tells me not to read reviews, that she doesn’t and therefore doesn’t know what’s said about her work (it’s usually always wonderful). But I am not yet ready to take that step. I wish I was. I don’t feel I am experienced enough to walk away from what might, buried in a review, prove to be a really valuable piece of advice or an observation that, whether positive or negative, should be paid attention to in order to improve future works. As a result, I do very occasionally get to read really ungenerous reviews. Interestingly, I can tell in the first line what kind it is going to be but, like an eavesdropper hearing no good about themselves, feel compelled to read on – just in case…
I am relatively thick-skinned when it comes to being criticised. I receive critiques all the time. As a newspaper columnist and feature writer, readers interact with my work on an almost daily basis. I receive feedback that makes me laugh, cry (in a good way), challenges, attacks me as well as some that makes me appalled that someone feels they have a right to make assumptions about me on the basis of an opinion or piece. One time, an article I wrote on Harry Potter caused a newspaper’s online feedback system to crash as readers around the world responded with vitriol to some of my points. They called me ‘sick’, spoke of the sympathy they had for my children for having such a mother, questioned my educational qualifications ‘What’s your doctorate in? Stupidity?’ and so on. These comments flew at me from around the globe and were a baptism by fire into the world of criticism. I was heartbroken and quite confused when what I had done was write what I believed was an intelligent, well-researched and humourous piece on what was fast becoming the Harry Potter phenomenon. And yes, my ego was bruised. The fact that I was able to respond with a piece entitled ‘I’m no Rita Skeeter,’ and the overwhelming lovely feedback I received and apologies, did a great deal to salve my wounds, but it also taught me a huge lesson in coping with not only the people who read your work and take it to heart, but the cruel anonymity of the internet. There’s also its immediacy to take into consideration, how anyone and everyone can now fire verbal barbs with the intention to make them stick or just as bad, without thinking…
As a result of this anonymity and speed I have, over the years via email mostly, been invited to burn in the eternal fires of hell, had my patriotism questioned, been told to go back to where I came from (I can’t, my mother is dead), had my sex and sexuality questioned and the list goes on. Strangely, those comments, which are more about me than my journalistic pieces, don’t hurt nearly as much as those which are directed at my creative writing. Hence, I understand exactly where my friend is coming from.
Doing my Ph.D. was an exercise in learning to write for a critical audience as is writing scholarly articles and having them ‘blind-reviewed’ by three peers around the world. Comments such as ‘ugh’, ‘point so lost it couldn’t find its way out of the London Underground’ and so on were relatively common. Even so, I only ever had one article rejected and that was in the first year of my PhD. So, I did get used to harsh comments.
But still, the ungenerous ones stand out from the crowd in a way that tells a great deal more about the reviewer than the piece he or she is critiquing.
Writers, regardless of what genre or for which audience they’re writing, labour over their words, even those writers, such as journalists, with strict deadlines and word counts. What might appear rushed, is generally thought out and edited heavily before someone else gets to fiddle with it and well before the public read it. All angles are deliberated (even if a particular approach is directed), and rejected or embraced. What can appear slap-dash, rarely is – even if it does invite that kind of criticism.
However, when we’re talking about a novel, a completely different set of skills and effort are applied. Generally, time works in the writer’s favour (though not always) and they use this wisely-ish. Every word, sentence, paragraph, character, theme, plot is highly developed and lovingly written and rewritten. What to include, what to exclude; where to allow the reader a breather, where to pick up the pace, where to use prolepsis (foreshadowing) and analepsis (flashbacks) are all are agonised over long before the work ever gets a public guernsey. By the time it reaches publication, all this has been mulled over and rewritten and edited at least hundreds of times and with the aid of professional editors, copy writers and so on.
But the truth is, no matter how much work you put in, it’s never perfect, it will never satisfy everyone – look at works that have sold millions and won accolades around the world. J.K. Rowling, Stephanie Meyer, Dan Brown, even ‘untouchables’ such as J.R.R. Tolkein, Cormac McCarthy and Annie Proulx, receive criticism. Why shouldn’t us ‘lesser’ souls? And we do.
But again, it’s the way the critiquing, the feedback, the review of the work is done that is so important. Most of us can accept that some readers (hopefully, only some) will not like what we’ve written and that’s fine (it’s even better if they keep it to themselves!), but if a reviewer has that reaction (though, I never understand why some media pick people to review genre work who have no experience in the genre! I remember, years ago, a review of one of my books beginning this way: ‘I didn’t like this book, but then, I hate fantasy…’ Go figure. But that didn’t stop them reviewing it – they were doing the job they were paid to do). We can also accept, as my friend did, the well-intentioned advice and observations of people we trust to provide honest, constructive feedback, the kind that comes from a position of goodwill with the motive to help us make our writing the best it possibly can be.
But it’s the destructive, nasty reviews that are hard to take. It’s as if the reviewer takes to heart the notion that critiquing is ‘criticising’ – fault-finding and nit-picking and little else. I mean, I’m sure if we all looked long and hard enough, and examined Mother Teresa and Ghandi with that kind of attitude, we’d find fault as well. But what does it achieve? To read something through the lens of ‘what can I find wrong with this? What flaws can I point out? What mistakes has this writer made? What do I NOT like about this book?’ is not helpful for anyone really. I imagine that it gives that kind of reviewer a sense of power. But over what? Some poor author who has invested a part of their life (and usually their family’s as well), heart and soul into a work of which they’re very proud. And then someone comes along and sinks the boot in – not in a way that is useful, but which is designed to bring that big-headed writer down a peg or two, because of course, anyone who is published must have a huge ego.
Well, maybe one or two do, but in my experience, most writers are quite humble souls who beaver away in solitude, lost in their imaginations. And they tremble at the thought of reviews and reviewers. Hence, they can potentially fall apart at the first sign of criticism – especially vile, toxic criticism. But guess what, they also pick themselves up again and keep going. That’s because they can’t help themselves, they love what they do with passion.
I’m not suggesting that reviewers go easy or soft – not at all! But that when they’re writing they weigh up the pros and the cons and try to point out the good and the bad. Because as the adage goes, one person’s trash is another’s treasure – ever heard of Twlight? That series polarises people faster than a compass finds Magnetic North.
So, I really do understand my friend temporarily floundering under criticism that was generously given. But I admire her for taking it on board and using it in the way it was delivered, to make her work stronger and more appealing. But I also understand why my other friend doesn’t read reviews. The ungenerous ones serve no purpose for writer or reader, rather they do little more than diminish both.
You know, writing a book is like having a baby. It gestates for months, if not years, before being born into the world. But the difference between writing and having a baby is that, while no-one will criticise your human baby to your face, when it comes to your creative one, there’s lots of bastards out there who delight in telling all and sundry what an ugly baby you’ve delivered!
What do you think?
I’m Too Sexy For a Squirt
Feb 12, 2010
The news that a gorgeous little seven-year-old girl, Julia Lira, is to lead the Viradouro samba parade in Rio de Janeiro seems to have tipped the scales of public opinion. Known for its sexually charged atmosphere, the Carnival is really no place for a child. Yet the father defends his right to give his daughter permission to partake, enjoying the publicity and instant global celebrity the family have achieved by such a decision. Meanwhile those who express reservations or protest are spoken of as wowsers.
The decision to include Julia Lira, despite cultural differences and context, is a symptom of what’s happening with increasing regularity in our world: the sexualisation and exploitation of kids. If it’s not for profit, then it’s with an eye to fame – for the parents as well.
Think about Ballon Boy and the lengths to which those parents went to get their faces on TV. It may have backfired, but they didn’t hesitate to use their children to achieve an end. Similarly, those awful tot and tween pageants that are particularly popular in the USA are little more than an exercise in vicariousness on behalf of the parents (usually mums) who indulge in dreadful competitiveness, dressing their daughters like mini-Lolitas and exposing them to a world that they’re too young to be involved in. Now we have a four year old boy, Kayim-Ali Jaffer appearing on Britain’s Got Talent with a Michael Jackson routine and bringing the crowd to its feet. When is it going to end? In-utero talent shows?
It would be so easy, too easy to blame the parents. But there’s a range of social factors that feed into this push to make kids sexy, display their talents, and have them participate in what was once exclusively adult culture. Social factors which mean these types of scenarios will keep recurring.
From padded bras and G-strings for four and five year olds, to Lolitaesque dolls and fashions, to gyrating, scantily clad music idols ala Lady GaGa, sex permeates children’s culture. Caught in this cycle of must-have or must-keep-up parents and kids are buying into the notion that they must look a particular way and own specific things to ‘fit in’ with peer groups.
Wander into your average department store and you’re likely to find miniature versions of adult couture, replete with plunging necklines, diaphanous fabrics, sparkles, spangles and sexiness for kids to don. There are even high heels for tots, bling to drape around their cherubic necks and the piece de resistance, make-up, particularly lip gloss, to smear across those, as yet, naturally pouting lips. There’s T-Shirts with slogans plastered all over them that announce a way of viewing the owner “Tit Man’; ‘Drama Queen’, ‘Spoiled., just to name a few. Not only are they aimed at under eights, they’re also a mixture of sexual inappropriateness and narcissism. Flaws are now turned into positive traits in a society that preaches the right of the individual. Care about ME and I’m ‘Special’ permeate our culture and are, sadly, notions that are instilled in even very young children.
Phillip Adams called this push to commodify chldhood through sex, “Corporate Paedophilia”: that is, when marketeers deliberately set out to exploit a child’s desire to grow up fast by targeting them with images, products and ideas about sex and adulthood – long before their cognitively ready.
An Australia Institute report that came out in 2007 used Adams’ term as its title. Focussing (unfortunately) on a fairly benign David Jones catalogue to discuss the sexualisation of kids, it prompted outrage. There was also a smear campaign directed at the authors. Accused of ‘reading too much into things’ and for fuelling a moral panic, there was an effort to dismiss the concerns raised.
That is, until thousands of parents and other citizens lodged their disquiet. From this, it seems, a grass roots movement began to swell, determined to call the corporations and advertisers to account and in doing so, protect childhood.
Melbourne Comedian (and mother), Julie Gale founded the Kids Free to Be Kids group,
Young Media Australia, a terrific organisation became very active.
Young Media Australia, (you can get to YMA from KF2BK)
There’s also Melinda Tankard Reist, and many others, who added their voices to the growing throng.
The people behind this aren’t ‘prudes’ nor are they adults wishing to live in an Arcadian past, where girls were made of sugar and spice and poor boys from doggy and creepy-crawly remnants. On the contrary, these are professionals, psychologists, psychiatrists (see also the American Psychological Association’s Report on the Sexualisation of Girls), parents, grandparents, teachers and even young people who are alarmed by the proliferation of sexual imagery and ideas being used to promote and celebrate kinderculture. It doesn’t take Einstein Barbie to understand that not only are their complaints justified, but they may even be far-sighted.
And now, after the wishy-washy Senate Inquiry into the Sexualisation of Children in the media last year, which really failed to deliver, a private member’s bill suggesting a new code of conduct for the media industry may be introduced.
I don’t really like legislation. Being in education, I tend to believe in the power of knowledge to produce change. It may be slow, but it works. It’s also life-long. The earlier it’s instilled and in an age-appropriate way, the better. But it just shows how helpless many adults feel against this onslaught in media and popular culture and are keen to protect their kids and want to enlist official help.
Sometime media commentator, Jane Caro, has criticised the proposed bill. In her comments she does what a few of those trying to silence rather than address concerns do – that is reflect on her own childhood experiences as an example. Now, I don’t know about Jane, but I do think that comparing a childhood of 40 odd years ago to those kids experience today is a bit like comparing a scooter to a spaceship.
She says: “Trying to hold girls back from the natural desire to put on mum’s lipstick, read big sister’s magazines, play with Barbie – who after all looks like a grown woman – I can’t see how that’s going to have any more detrimental effect than [it did] on me and my generation back in the ’50s and ’60s.”
Firstly, no-one that I know is trying to hold their kids back from doing these wonderful things. Secondly, Jane hasn’t read the research, has she? The research that shows a rise in depression, sexually transmitted diseases, body dysmorphia and self-esteem issues in young women and men. Issues that are starting at a younger and younger age (eg. girls as young as six presenting at hospitals with bulimia or expressing a wish to be prettier, thinner etc.) because of the rampant exposure to sexual (not sex itself) ideas and imagery. I think she needs to talk to Dr Michael Carr-Gregg or Dr Joe Tucci. Where she is right is in noting that kids do possess a natural desire to grow-up fast, to experiment with mum’s (or dad’s) clothes and make-up etc. Expressing yourself sexually is natural and normal and wonderful, even in very young children. What’s not right is to have it presented in a package that can be bought and exchanged and performed in public. And this is where the difference between Jane’s childhood and those experienced by kids today, lies.
Once upon a time, practicing being an adult was confined to the bedroom, house or family. Dress-ups, where kids paraded and played in mum and dad’s clothes, were an accepted and endorsed part of growing up. Nowadays, these dress-ups occur in public and very young kids are encouraged to try on a variety of adult identities for size.
Much of this is enshrined in cultural practice where kids are able to enter beauty pageants, idol competitions, and mimic their favourite celebrities at home, but also at school, the street and shopping malls, grabbing crotches, chests and buttocks and moaning, ‘don’t you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?’ Kids are being catapulted into a world of innuendo and titillation long before they’re ready.
We don’t need reminders of petite JonBenet Ramsay, she of the ‘bedroom eyes’, to know there’s something deeply wrong about this exploitation of kids’ natural urge to want to accelerate their childhood. Hence the hue and cry about Julia Lira.
Bombarded with approximately 400,000 images a year, kids cannot escape nor easily unravel the implicit sexuality in advertising, films, TV, music, websites and magazines, that suggest that it’s not necessarily how you look (though that helps), it’s how you flaunt those looks that counts for currency in today’s world.
Barbie, and her nemesis, Bratz, aren’t just in the toy box anymore; their human counterparts are in the school yard, the TV, on the cover of magazines, lunchboxes, panties and singing songs. But while kids might demand the sexy ‘stuff’, ‘look’ and food, and savour the (temporary) results, earning kudos in the playground, it’s adults who have not only created this, but bought it as well: hook, line and sinker.
While adults are also susceptible to seductive messages, it’s their responsibility to become the filters as opposed to the facilitators. Just because the corporations tell us that in order to get ahead in this Microsoft eat Apple world, our kids need to conform to a particular version of childhood to fit in, doesn’t mean we have to literally buy it.
As Julie Gale suggests and Sweden and Quebec (who ban advertising to kids under 12 and 13 respectively) have demonstrated: we can refuse to buy the products and subsequently, the ideas embedded within them, allowing kids to be just that: kids.
Adults must protect very young kids from the notion that sex sells – products and the self. If they do, they’ll be given the time and space to create solid foundations and nurture kids’ imaginations and identities; ones that aren’t contingent upon sex, looks, wining a competition, getting their face on TV, or material possessions.
Believe me I am no wowser – just another voice of concern.
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