There’s an interesting article in Salon today (you will probably have to watch an ad in order to read the full article) that seems to speak to the upcoming Aquarius/Leo Full Moon theme of artist vs. audience: how best to balance the “Leo” need for creative self-expression with the feedback and acceptance/rejection by an “Aquarian” audience:
The Internet has turned what was once primarily a one-way communication into a dialogue — or maybe a melee. From a cultural perspective, the new democracy of voices online is a wonderful thing. But writers have an odd and ambiguous relationship with their readers, and the reader revolution is having massive consequences we can’t even foresee. Writers are being pulled, or lured, down from their solitary perches and into the madding throng. This has opened useful debate and made writers accountable. But it has also thrown open the gate to creeps, narcissists and wannabe Byrons who threaten to damage the fragile, half-permeable membrane writers use to keep the world from being too much with them.
I’ve certainly had my share of difficult interactions with readers in the nearly eight years since I started my website, though the overwhelming number of emails I receive about my writing are warm, friendly, and supportive. Still, even a couple of nastygrams – I can count about five over the years that have just about made me pack up shop – can throw a writer for a loop.
I’ll freely admit to being thin-skinned – Moon in the 7th house, square Pluto, anyone? – and I haven’t always handled criticism well. Then again, the negative responses I’ve received over the years have been less intellectually “critical” than ad hominem attacks – which I suppose my rather personal writing style invites. In fact, when I started this blog a couple of years ago I initially didn’t activate the “comments” feature; I wanted to just write, to feel my way without having to defend myself against criticism, or to let even positive feedback influence what I wrote about. These days, I welcome the feedback and conversation of my blog comments, and find many of them inspire subsequent blog entries and articles; but I still moderate them, and won’t hesitate to delete any that are flat-out nasty. Hey, it’s a blog, not a democracy.
In any event, it’s been an education watching some of my fellow online writers, especially what we used to call “online diarists“, deal with criticism over the years. It’s a relief to see that most of them are just as touchy as I am! But others handle negative feedback beautifully. Michele‘s been exploring some negative reader feedback over on her blog in a very thoughtful way, and I’ve observed her handling of negative comments to past posts; she is always so humble, compassionate, and respectful to those who disagree with her approach to writing or astrology. Lynn manages to handle the occasional negative comments on her blog with a graceful blend of firmness and good humor. And not coincidentally, these are women who are extremely prolific. They don’t appear to let negative feedback from the collective, Aquarian, Internet “audience” censor their Leo creative voices.
Jeff has an interesting take on this Leo/Aquarius polarity:It can be easy to have your pride wounded this Full Moon, because face it … you’re not the be all and end all. Mars, Uranus and the Sun are telling you that there’s a whole world out there that does not cater to your wishes. And they’re doing it in a way that can come as a shock. A little brusque. A bit cold.
Certainly, “Aquarius” perspective is a positive check against the potential myopia of “Leo”. A writer sits alone in a room, or at a table in a cafe, and dumps the contents of his or her mind, heart, and psyche onto a printed or virtual page. It’s an intimate process that, at best, reflects one’s own Leo process rather than catering to public approval. That’s why it’s a bit of a bracing shock to a writer to receive hate mail or negative comments on a blog; such feedback often suggests that we should be other than who we are, or implies that we think we’re better, smarter, or more interesting than other people. But we can only be what we are; and the fact that we write about ourselves, or from our own perspectives (what other perspective would we write from?), doesn’t mean we think we’re more important than anyone else.
But yes, at this Full Moon we’re reminded that there is a whole world out there, a world that can be cold and brusque and indifferent. And if we’re consistently writing in a way that fails to capture the public’s imagination, it’s healthy to know that; it tells us that we’re off course, that our perspective has become too narrow, and encourages us to open up our minds and hearts to other points of view. At its best, writing is not just a way to express what we are, but also a method of inquiry that asks, “What else might I become?”
I hope some of you will leave some thoughts in comments… does feedback in email, comments, and the like affect how and what you write?
