It's the story that matters.
When I was in graduate school, getting a seemingly worthless advanced degree in creative writing, my most valuable classes were the writing workshops. As the name implies, in these classes, we’d sit and listen while stories we’d previously shared with the class were essentially ripped to pieces.
Anyone who’s sat through a critique by a group of people of varying qualifications knows that such things can be trying. Much of the feedback would be helpful, but a lot of it was from students who’d clearly only skimmed the story, or worse, were just trying to sound smart for the professor.
Because I was young and arrogant, in early workshops I usually dismissed these comments entirely. But as time went on and I sat through more critiques, my attitude started to change. Slowly, I started to realize that, as inane as some of these comments were, they were a sign that something wasn’t working. Whether my peers were articulating their problems well or not, my story was not having the desired effect.
Slowly, I started to listen through what they were saying to understand what they meant. And while this is a valuable skill, one I use nearly every day (take that worthless advanced degree!), it wasn’t the most important part of the experience.
For me, the lesson that really stuck, the one that has ultimately become my motto, is that it’s the story that matters, not me. When I started, my ego kept me from listening to my audience. My own pride and my own view of that the story should be were more important to me than the ultimate success of the story.
But over time, that changed. Slowly but surely, I started to realize that if I wanted to be successful, I had to leave myself at the door. What mattered wasn’t my feelings. What mattered was the story. And if people were making critiques, good or bad, that meant there was a chance that my story wasn’t where it needed to be. Granted, some of the comments were stupid and butt-kissing, but if I didn’t do my due diligence to at least listen and evaluate each one, I was doing my story a disservice.
For me, this lesson translates into almost every aspect of my life. It’s easy to let my own ego or ambition or fear get in the way of creating something meaningful. It applies to the projects I lead at work. It applies to my personal creative endeavors. Frankly, it applies to the way I think about my marriage and family.
We are creative beings, but creation is not about ego. It may start there in some cases, but once it’s in the world, it takes on a life of its own. It becomes entangled in audiences and cultures. And its destiny transcends the will of the creator.
So on your next project, listen. What isn’t working? What could be better? How can you help your creation accomplish what it was made to accomplish?
Because if you want to make something truly great, then you need to be willing to sacrifice anything, including your own darlings, to make it happen. Because it’s the story that matters.
Image credit: https://www.flickr.com/photos/seriykotik/5645207913