10. Collect compliments

how to keep going, writer's edition, vol 1.

the breakfast room at Villa Pia: I complimented the owner on the beautiful arrangement of foraged foliage in the jug on the hearth

Hello friends,

Hot on the heels of the glorious writing retreat I attended last week, my thoughts have been more attuned to how to keep writing, as opposed to the more general how to keep going. There is some overlap though, and I now feel compelled to start something of a sub-substack on this theme.

Confidence, or lack thereof, is a recurring motif that has emerged as I’ve made recent efforts to take my writing more seriously. This first came up in a storytelling workshop I got to attend through my library work back in August. On the second evening of the workshop, the twelve participants took part in a simple storytelling exercise, recounting the events of our day from the time we woke up to the time we arrived at the workshop. I didn’t feel my day had been particularly interesting - I thought it wasn’t especially story-worthy, so when my turn arrived I rushed through my day’s happenings, relieved to reach the end fairly quickly. The skilled facilitator, Deb Williams, looked at me, cocked her head slightly.

“You never said the words ‘I’m sorry’, but the whole thing sounded apologetic.”

That sentence hit me the same way some especially potent insights land in my counsellor’s office. She had just identified something in me I hadn’t seen properly before.

“I don’t want to waste anyone’s time", I blurted out.

She looked at me deeply for what seemed like a long moment, as though she had many thoughts about what I had just said. Then, succinctly, she told me: “You’re going to have to get over that. We want to hear what you have to say.”

“But that’s a great beginning!” She added, smiling broadly, before moving on to the next storyteller. “Write that down!” Pointing at me, my notebook in front of me. “I’m serious. Write that down!” (Obediently, I scratched down in my notebook: I don’t want to waste anyone’s time = good beginning.)

This lack of confidence came up again last week, particularly in two of the three one-on-one writing tutorials, in which I was gently but firmly told I had to get out of my own way. In one session, I was served up a piece of my writing with circles around what was astutely described as the written equivalent of a verbal tic, in which I am continuously undermining my own authority, providing a sort of ongoing disclaimer that the writing that follows may in fact be utter crap - you don’t need to tell me because I already know. It was extremely helpful to have someone point this out to me so clearly. I can now see it everywhere in my writing, and I’m working to excise it. I’ve already edited several iterations of that tic out of this post.

I had so many rich, illuminating, inspiring conversations at Villa Pia. Each of the participants arrived with their own fascinating stories, each full of curiosity and compassion for all expressions of the human experience. One of these conversations happened over dinner, early in the week, when I was seated beside a man who, upon learning that I was Canadian, shared that he had met several Canadians when he’d been doing a scuba course, a few years earlier, in Australia. That one of these Canadians had shared a story about a lake in Canada where you could dive in and around a petrified, underwater forest. He described how this lake had captured his imagination, how he wanted to learn more about it, but couldn’t remember the name of the lake and had searched and searched but had not been able to find it, to this day. I was not familiar with this magical Canadian underwater forest lake myself, but “lucky for you,” I told him, “you have just shared this quest with a librarian, so it will be my mission to find this information and bring it back to you before the week is out.”

My extreme jet lag experience afforded me many additional waking hours, and early (early) the next morning, I remembered this question, and did some online digging until I found what he was looking for (and what you too may by now also be curious about, unless I am the last Canadian to find out about this): the underwater forests of Lake Huron (actually only partially in Canada, but no matter). My new friend was so pleased when I delivered this information over breakfast a few hours later, and I was pleased too - there are few things I enjoy more than connecting people with the elusive information they have long been seeking. It occurred to me that when it came to my librarian work, I had complete confidence. I had not doubted for a moment that I would be able to find what he was looking for.

I began mulling over how I could feel so confident in one area of my life, and so devoid of confidence in another. I determined that I would bring this back to my counsellor’s office - a new project - unpack all the things that contributed to this incessant crippling self doubt about my writing, and overcome it.

Then, in the last workshop of the week, a new perspective surfaced, following a staged writing exercise. Crucially, the stages were only revealed as we reached each one, so we did not know what was coming next, or how they all fit together. The first part of the exercise consisted in a series of strictly timed writing prompts. The second part involved pairing off with a partner, reading our work from the timed writing prompts for five minutes and then listening to our partner’s response for the following five minutes. Finally, we all regrouped at the table, and went in turn, telling the other participants what we had learned about our writing from our partners. It was an excellent exercise: the prompts were fruitful and demonstrated the value of timed writing, the peer review section taught me to listen better, and provide more thoughtful feedback, and the final part, well that showed us all, very quickly, how absolutely hopeless we all are at hearing and retaining compliments. It was not just me who needed to be reminded of the positive adjectives my partner had used, moments earlier, to describe my writing. It was all of us. Some we had not heard at all, some we might have heard but had already discarded, and some we had already forgotten. In a matter of moments.

Again, the librarian in me becomes intrigued about information storage and retrieval, but now on a personal level. Why do we cling so tightly to the tiniest shards of criticism but release our grip so quickly on reams of praise? Writer friends: we need to work on this. Actually, scratch that first part, because I know this does not just plague writers. Friends of all creative stripes: we need to work on this.

So here comes my first ‘how to keep writing’ strategy, and full disclaimer, one I am still only thinking of implementing but have not yet begun: a collection of compliments. I have a small but precious mental collection of compliments that I have received over the years about my writing, but what if I devoted a small notebook to this purpose? What if I wrote them down, and then, when my obnoxious inner critic is using her loudspeaker, as she so often does, I could open up my little notebook and read some kindness in an attempt to mute her, or at the very least, lower her volume.

I might include this one: I received a particularly pleasing compliment in a message the day after the retreat ended. My new friend wrote to me: “You are very warm and very funny, those two together are so rare.” Thank you, Judith! I don’t think it was specific to my writing, but we were in the same workshop group, and I am adding that to my collection.

What do you think? Will you join me in starting a compliment collection? It does rather fly in the face of all we’ve absorbed over our lifetimes about not being boastful or arrogant, about needing to be humble and modest. But this isn’t about becoming excessive braggarts, this is about bolstering our own confidence so we can do the work we want to do. The work we need to do.

Yesterday morning something came up in my Substack notes feed that made me laugh out loud. (Yes I took a photo of it.) From

Lucia Fontaina-Powell

:

this is much bigger than I’d intended but I can’t figure out how to adjust the size and it’s too good to get rid of

Come on now, can you recall the best compliment you’ve ever received about your writing? Or if not about your writing, about yourself? I’d love to hear your favourite, if you’re willing to share. Let’s build a collection.

Sending love,

Rebecca

xo