While I was still in college, I had the opportunity to work with my school newspaper. I didn’t consider myself a writer, but I wanted to be involved in some way. So I offered to design and maintain their website. I also dabbled in ad design.
I loved my job there. And I loved being surrounded by the people on the student newspaper staff. Working at a church, I found myself completely surrounded by conservative Republicans. And working at this newspaper allowed me to see the other side of the spectrum. I got to see that not everyone loved George W. Bush and unrestricted gun use. It also gave me a chance to have a few real conversations about my faith with people who didn’t believe the same things as me.
I began to build a real rapport with these people. In fact, the editor of the newspaper asked if I’d be willing to write a column in the editorial section. She saw I had an interesting perspective on the world and thought it would be fun to have that balance in the publication.
I wasn’t very interested in shotgunning my opinions out to the student community. I never saw a newspaper article as a great way to sway people to my beliefs. But I did take the opportunity to try my hand at satire.
I took simple observations on the world and exaggerated them until they became ridiculous. I talked about the cult of Churches Chicken’s honey butter biscuits, ideas to make a quick $20,000, and even how being a ninja would make my everyday life significantly better. It was complete silliness and fun. We all had a good laugh when I turned in my latest piece for “When Life Hands You Lemmings”.
I’d been writing these pieces for a couple months, when one day I actually overheard someone talking about my column. I was waiting outside of a class in a huge lecture hall. A girl a few feet away was talking to her friends. “Have you read this article? This guy is a complete idiot. What is he even talking about? He always says the dumbest things.” Her and her friends went on for a few minutes attacking my column.
When I think back to this event now, I know exactly what I would have done. I should have walked up to them and said, “Oh, you like my article, do you?” They would have felt a bit foolish and probably would have apologized. I probably would have even made some friends from the encounter.
Instead, I sat there and slumped my shoulders. I was previously convinced everyone would love my humorous articles, and it hurt that these people just weren’t getting it. It’s clear these people didn’t understand my brand of humor.
That was my last article for the newspaper. When my editor asked why I stopped writing, I simply said I wasn’t interested anymore. But the truth was that I didn’t like people saying those things about me. I didn’t want to go through that.
I let the critics win that day. I let them silence my voice. I didn’t realize it was okay that they didn’t get it. I thought success meant everyone would love and approve of me. I wish I would have known then what I know now. But I didn’t. And it wasn’t until many years later that I took up writing again. I missed out on an opportunity to develop the skills that would eventually become my dream. All because of one freshman girl’s idle comments in a hallway.
Don’t let this happen to you. Don’t let critics derail you from your future.
