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I have been thinking about the idea of humility for a few months now. A good friend and I have had a number of discussions about it, talking about how we would like to bring increased humbleness to the way we interact in the world. I am convinced that humility in its truest form (rather than the kind of false humility I was taught to adopt growing up in the UK, lest I be seen as a show off) can be profoundly expansive and is a key to creating deeper connections with the world around us.
Have you ever had that experience where you go into a conversation or interaction as a know it all? Where you just can’t help yourself from wanting to show your expertise on a subject and suddenly you are holding court about a subject someone else had brought to the table, that someone else wanted to share their unique thoughts on? I wish I could say I’d never done that, but I absolutely have. I think we all have one or two subjects that can bring this out in us.
Have you also noticed how this kind of interaction can often serve to sever connection with the very people you are trying to connect with? Some of the most humble people I know are also the most wise, learning always from others, allowing others their own paths to discover things for themselves.
But what has humility got to do with writing?
I hear writers struggle so much with receiving critique and I am sure it is because many of us hold the following dichotomy inside us. We at once secretly hope that the reader is going to come back saying our writing is the greatest thing they have ever read, that it moved them to tears, made them laugh out loud, helped them finally understand the meaning of life, while at the same time we are sure we will finally be outed for being the worst writer to ever live. Humility can allow us a way out of this duality. It can give us a place to softly land in the middle and it can open a space for improvement for us without so much emotion. From that place we can receive critique as information to consider, rather than fodder to prop up our ego or destroy it.
“I have already settled it for myself, so flattery and criticism go down the same drain and I am quite free.” Georgia O’Keefe.
I am humbly returning to a novel I thought I finished over a year ago. Exactly a year to the day after I completed it, I had an idea for a new ending and decided I also needed to restructure the beginning. Now, I could go into the edit ego first and beat myself up for not having got it ‘right’ the first time, I could criticise myself for every imperfect sentence, make myself the worst writer in the world and lock myself out of writing if I choose (we are writers, our creative minds are that powerful). I could also go the other route, tell myself it is perfect how it is, decide that the agents who have said they didn’t feel super invested in my protagonist in the first chapters are wrong. Neither of these support me or my writing very much. If I choose, instead, to come back to my story humbly and look at each thing I want to change as just another chance to practice my craft, to try again, to play with words, to improve, to ask the story how it wants to be told, it is likely to be a much more expansive and enjoyable experience and I am likely to do a better edit.
When I return with humble eyes, I allow for it all. I allow myself to see the bits that work, the bits I am really proud of and the bits that don’t work with a similar level of emotional reactivity, both are simply information, ways to know my writing (and probably myself) better. Coming from this place, I truly believe I will follow what the story wants and needs rather than getting distracted by the coercive pangs of ego or self-flagellation.
So, you see, the path of the humble writer is a kinder one, a one that might help us enjoy the journey—the most important part—of our creatively courageous lives.
Can you see a place where humility might help you be more expansive with your work? Is there a piece of work you have been avoiding looking at because your critical mind has made it too hard to see or because a reader’s critique has hurt your heart? Could you return to it with a humble glance and see what information it may have for you?
Recommendations
Things I have enjoyed recently…
Book: I recently read, The Beekeeper of Aleppo by Christy Lefteri, another beautiful example of the compassion and empathy that novels can evoke. Writing and reading really can change the world.
Article: This short article in Brevity: What Am I Doing? A Writer at Eighty is a masterclass of the humble writer. So poignant.
Wisdom: Despite happily not having twitter, this tweet found its way to me and I am so glad it did. Kurt Vonnegut’s tiny letter to high school students says so much about why we write (spoiler: it is not about getting published).
And a bonus pondering (should you choose to humour me): In the UK we would say you run a bath, while in the US they say you draw a bath. It seems to me that neither of these make that much sense. What verb might we use to better describe this delightful action? Answers in the comments…best answer gets humble bragging rights :)
Mentoring
I am continuously humbled by working with my wonderful mentoring clients, who show up to our sessions and to the page with so much dedication, courage and conviction. It is such an inspiration and a joy. My books for October filled quickly, but I have decided to open two more spots as we move into this end of the year, for anyone who would like support in getting started on a project of perhaps finishing a project before the year’s out. So, if you are interested in working with me, please book in for a free discovery call to see if I might be the right mentor for you.
A soothing reading. If we allow the words to simply flow, as they did in this piece (like water, or maybe, bath water), how can the writing be anything less than humble?
*Prepare* a bath, perhaps? sounds a bit too scientific.
Back to the -- wait for it--drawing board for a better word.
I loved this newsletter, Susannah. It gave me food for thought on humility...
I am going to plagiarise my native language and say "to flow a bath" (faire couler un bain)