How To Stop Caring What People Think Of Your Writing

Shout your shine, friends. Here's how.

Photo by wooof woof on Unsplash

I used to care about what people thought of me, my work, everything. The chatter of the Greek chorus was deafening. I was a chameleon whose body, opinions, and words changed based on my surroundings. Don’t take up space, don’t kick up a fuss. Even when they were mean, petty, duplicitous and cruel — I just smiled and said nothing because fuss. Even though I wanted to open my mouth and shout, BUT! BUT! BUT!

But only moth balls spilled out.

Sometimes, it takes the most ferocious of storms to clean the shores. To strip them of all the garbage and the kind of harm that cuts deep. For me, that storm was moving to Los Angeles in 2015 and leaving my seemingly terrific-life-on-paper behind. Distance creates space and space creates clarity and clarity forces you to see — and once you see, you cannot unsee.

I had many in my life that appeared to be friendly but were predators posing as house pets.

“Friends” cut down my work or call me strange to put me in my place and shut me down. “Friends” talked behind my back, and call me a lunatic when I was in the midst of the darkest of depressions. People stopped replying to my emails and taking my calls because of the essays I wrote online. Or the fact that I wasn’t as connected as I used to be, which meant I had outlived my utility. I was no longer someone “good to know.” Not only was I not useful, but I was a repellent. Strange, dramatic, mentally ill.

Imagine being discarded for what makes you you.

In an old HBR article, “How To Stop Worrying What Other People Think Of You,” Michael Gervais posits,

“If you start paying less and less attention to what makes you you — your talents, beliefs, and values — and start conforming to what others may or may not think, you’ll harm your potential.

You’ll start playing it safe because you’re afraid of what will happen on the other side of the critique. You’ll fear being ridiculed or rejected. When challenged, you’ll surrender your viewpoint. You won’t raise your hand when you can’t control the outcome. You won’t go for that promotion because you won’t think you’re qualified.”

Sound familiar? I played it safe for much of my adult life. I wasn’t writing and living to my potential because I was desperate to blend in because I wanted people to like me. I didn’t argue with my editor when I wanted my first book to be experimental because I felt it would be ungrateful to make a fuss. I toned down the darker aspects of my personality, myself, because I wanted to appear congenial, normal.

Until I realized there was no value in shutting down my shine, of being around colleagues, friends, and peers who were intent to disrupt my peace.

I stopped caring what people thought of me and started being honest. I’m a flawed person. I’m not the easiest to know much less love. I hold grudges. I used to be unkind before I learned how to be kind. I wrote what people expected me to write until I wrote what moved me because maybe my writing could give a stranger comfort. Whisper so only they could hear that they were not alone.

Or, my writing could be a counterpoint to all the hustlers and gurus plaguing the online space, selling the dream of how being a famous writer, being a rich writer, was so easy, so simple, if only you’d cough up $99 for their course, e-book, or the dream of breathing the same air they breathe on a Zoom call. Meanwhile, these “writers” got rich by hocking a Willy Loman-style dream. They got attention for pandering to the wants of the masses. They wrote to search engines and algorithms. They didn’t take risks. And they sure didn’t disclose just how hard it is to write and write well.

Would you expect a doctor to be an expert after having just graduated medical school and practicing for a year? Why do hold expectations that it’s so easy to write. It’s so easy to create stories, characters, and worlds that put a reader’s heart on pause.

But, over time, I would stop caring about the hustlers because it’s better to keep one’s eyes on one’s paper. Better to focus on honing and shouting your unique shine than focus on the darkness surrounding you.

Part of me wonders what my life would’ve been had I not moved from New York. But then I look at the work I’ve created over the past nine years and it is the best I’ve done. My essays are sharp, honest, strange, and lyrical. My work years ago pales in comparison to what I create now.

All because I stopped caring what people thought and started caring about what I wanted to put out into the world. And I focused on my values. My foundation, my core — in marketing terms, my “why.”

In Psychology Today, Meg Selig writes of the surprising superpowers one possesses when they know their values. One of which is the ability to make tough decisions:

“A study by researcher David Creswell and his associates found that college students experiencing high stress were better able to figure out a creative problem-solving task under time pressure if they first wrote a few sentences about their most important values.

When they identified and focused on their significant values, they were able to solve as many problems as students in a low-stress group. Knowing — and writing about — significant values turned out to be a protective factor against the harmful effects of excessive stress.”

When we’re struggling and wading our way through the darkest of countries, our values serve as a foundation, a home we can return to. A place where we can be safe, set down our bags, and think before we decide, make, and create.

Perhaps you know someone who constantly belittles your work, your ideas, your dreams because they haven’t realized their own. Seth Godin once wrote, “Some criticism comes from the broken-hearted. They are bitter about what happened to their dreams, and it’s easy (and perhaps a bit satisfying) to stomp on yours.”

Or maybe people say you’re too sensitive when sensitivity is the superpower we need right now. I’ve come to realize people have A LOT TO SAY, but very little of it actually pertains to us and the work we do and create. While criticism and caring words are often valid and come from a generous place, it’s important to listen to and prioritize what our voices tell us, what our hearts feel and our minds believe to be true.

What a heartbreak to smother yourself because of someone else’s foolery, fears, or bitterness. We are made of stories and what a shame it would be if we didn’t tell them.

The confidence and power to stand in our shine and feel powerful about the stories we tell starts with self-awareness:

“Most of us go through life with a general sense of who we are, and, in a lot of circumstances, that’s enough. We get by. But if you want to be your best while being less fearful of people’s opinions, you need to develop a stronger and much deeper sense of who you are.

You can start by developing a personal philosophy — a word or phrase that expresses your basic beliefs and values. When coming up with a personal philosophy, ask yourself a series of questions:

When I’m at my best, what beliefs lie just beneath the surface of my thoughts and actions? Who are people that demonstrate characteristics and qualities that are in alignment with mine? What are those qualities? What are your favorite quotes? Your favorite words? Once you’ve answered these questions, circle the words that stand out to you and cross out the ones that don’t. After studying what’s left, try to come up with a phrase or sentence that lines up with exactly who you are and how you want to live your life.”

When I used to work with brands, I always start with a values definition (an extended remix of the above) and purpose exercise. Your values and purpose affect everything you do in work and life. They’re how you show up for your coworkers, customers, friends, and loved ones. They’re what bolts you out of bed in the morning and keeps you going even when the world is intent on kicking you down.

For a long time, people would comment about how “soft” this exercise was. How it didn’t bear an ROI or impact a business, and I wonder what they must feel now when two-thirds of the world are buying on beliefs. People buy from those who align with their values and expect brands to not only solve their personal challenges but to affect positive societal change.

Magnetism no longer holds, swagger is losing its luster — the reasons consumers buy have shifted because their priorities have shifted and this isn’t going away anytime soon.

Still “soft”? Still not relevant to the success of one’s career or business? PFFT. Ask Amanda Ensing how her values are working out for her.

Want to stop caring about what people think. Start with knowing and committing to your values. Define your purpose, which is the mark you make in the world. It’s about being curious, caring, and expansive. Your purpose is bigger than you.

I give clients an expanded version of the following purpose exercise after we craft values statements. Give it a whirl:

1. What are you good at? What are your unique talents, skills, and abilities? Then bring this exercise to the surface. What would you do if money, weren’t an issue? What work would you pursue? What interests would you explore?

2. What skills have you always wanted to learn? Even if this doesn’t relate at all to your current job or role, jot it down. You may be surprised how a component of the skill can find its way into your purpose and ultimately, the work you’re meant to do.

3. When you make important work or life decisions, what factors motivate or impact those decisions? What considerations come into play?

4. What change do you want to see in your community or in the world? How could you use your skills, talent, and abilities — albeit in the smallest of ways — to impact that change?

Now, complete this sentence:

I seek to ______ (your contribution) so that__________(impact).​

So what do a values and purpose exercise have to do with giving zero fucks? Think of a house. One of the old ones that has lasted at least a hundred years. They’ve weathered storms, ravages, people, and wars. Why? They have the strongest foundation, which renders them unbreakable.

Your values and purpose are that foundation. The discipline is in embodying them in life. But once you define them, it’s hard to go back. It’s hard to see your life through this new lens and not want to say something, do something, be someone better.

I’m not here to be everyone’s best friend. I’m not particularly likable. In fact, I’m allergic to people. But I care about putting work out into the world that educates without barriers and boundaries, entertains through my dark, strange sense of humor, and makes people feel less alone.

So when someone feels the need to step on you and your work, step back, build that foundation, spend time with it, embody it slowly, and then tell the world to sod off.

Or be like George Saunders — so good all the cool kids want to follow you.