August 4th, 2020

How to take a compliment (for writers) (mainly)

There’s something bananas in our culture where it’s clearly written that we should say nice things to each other but there’s just so little in the etiquette books about how to respond to those nice things. Consequently, some people have gotten the idea that compliments, praise, and kind words might be best rejected or repudiated or otherwise smashed out of hand. Especially those of us who are not encouraged to think too highly of ourselves to start with (women).

The worst incident of smash-the-compliment I’ve ever seen occurred in first-year-university when my friend C did my makeup. When other friends turned up, they commented on how nice I looked. Desperate to deflect the compliment, I said all credit must go to C for having done such a nice job on my makeup. C, having not expected this, panicked and said she wasn’t even that good at makeup and had in fact done quite a bad job on mine, completely screwing up the eyes.

We’d already left for an evening out at this point, and I had thought I looked rather nice, as indeed I probably did. But we all had to stand there, marinating in the fact that C had said I looked bad in order to somehow be modest herself. It was a weird night.

It is so very difficult, if you grew up with this nonsense drilled into you–“try very hard to be amazing, but if anyone mentions it, act like it’s all a complete surprise or accident”–to have someone say “you’re great” or “something you’ve done is great” and just say “thank you” because that is like saying “yes, it’s true, I’m great and what’s more, I did it on purpose.”

This is what’s awkward (one of many awkward things) about publishing a book, because even trying to do so, even submitting a sample chapter, is synonymous with saying, “I think many people would benefit from spending a number of hours reading many many words that I wrote, clean out of my brain. I think they would enjoy that, and what’s more that they would pay money so that they could enjoy those words from my brain.”

What a claim! What confidence, what self-assurance, what pride! And yet we do it, nervously, quietly, slogging away in the shadows, and so no one really knows how prideful we are until one day the. book. comes. out.

If you are going to have a book in the world, people are going to say stuff about it, often quite nice things. ASSUME NICE THINGS! And be ready. If an author goes around muttering how their book isn’t that great and people who like it have made a mistake or are lying they are a) really undermining the marketing team and the publishing house that invested in the book b) insulting the person who gave the compliment by implying they wasted their time and also do not have the discernment to compliment accurately c) making themselves look like a sort of confusing con artist who took so much time and effort to get the book into into the hands of strangers while saying they knew the whole time that it wasn’t good.

I have, through trial and error and so many awkward conversations, come up with some things to say about my work that aren’t just utter self-abnegation, and that allow the conversation to go forth in a reasonable manner, and also aren’t just crowing about how great I am. Because honestly, here is a secret–I like my work. Not all of it but most, I think is good, and I truly think that’s the only way to publish–sometimes I read it myself. I do! I mean, it’s so hard to write anything at all. Why would I do it unless I saw some value in it. So I don’t announce to strangers, “yes, my work is excellent, wouldn’t you agree?” but I don’t say, “it’s worthless, burn it,” though the culture sort of urges me to do the latter and my heart a little of both, depending on the day. Here are the compromises I’ve come up with.

When people say they are planning to read my work or considering reading it, my instinct is always to let them off the hook, imply they needn’t bother or if they are doing it to make me happy or because they think I expect it, don’t worry about it. It’s bananas, my assumption that they don’t actually want to or worse, that they won’t be happy if they do. Instead I try therapy’s old friend, I statements. Own your feelings!

• That’s great!
• I’m curious to hear what you think!
• I hope you enjoy it!

Very simple, gentle, friendly things to say that don’t get us into a guilt-ridden extended back-and-forth where you have to beg permission to read a book that I struggled for years to make available to readers.

Worse, sometimes people tell me they have read my book and they did enjoy it. My go-to used to be “That’s so kind of you,” which turned out not to be good because people don’t like to feel their honest critical reactions are being construed as kindness or condescension. Here are some better options.

• That makes me so happy to hear!
• That means a lot to me!
• Thank you for taking the time to tell me that!
• I appreciate hearing that!
• And the good old classic, Thank you!

In an even more amazing turn, sometimes an external good thing will happen to my book–an award nod, an excellent review, a second printing or well, there’s lots of great things out there that can happen to a book. My previous go-to, “I feel so lucky!” has been sort of taken out of circulation because people don’t congratulate for luck, they congratulate for achievements, and honestly, I have to own at least part of these as achievements even if I will insist in my private heart there’s a luck aspect to most of them. That’s not really quick-conversation fare. So if someone says congratulations on any of these types of things, I tell them…

• I was so pleased to hear it!
• It’s good news, isn’t it?
• It means a lot to me!
• I’m happy to have good news to share with you!
• I’m happy to have good news to share with my publisher, who believed in this book.
• I was surprised, but thrilled!
• Thanks for mentioning something that makes me so happy!
• Thanks for thinking of it.
• And, of course, just plain Thank you! works fine.

And finally, there will be those occasions where something doesn’t break my way, or my book’s way, and someone expresses sorrow and tells me that it should have, or that they wanted it to. Prize nominations, more attention, whatever. Sometimes I wanted it too and am sad, sometimes the thought didn’t cross my mind until this person brought it up (sigh!) but it’s usually well meant, and anyway, what can you do. These are the most awkward conversations but interlocutors at least understand why one wants to diffuse. They also repay being well-read, because it’s so much easier if you can honestly say whoever did get the prize or the big whatever really deserved it. If you can’t say that (either because you just don’t think it or because you don’t know) here’s some other thoughts:

• I appreciate your support for my book.
• The book didn’t get x but it did get y [other nice success-type thing].
• And again, thank you is always a winner!

I wrote this post because I haven’t published anything in a while and am just out of practice and then someone completely blindsided me with a lot of joyful enthusiasm for my work when I wasn’t ready and I responded really awkwardly! It was fun but I wish I had responded better to what was a truly lovely reception to my book. A good reading is worth it’s weight in gold and certainly deserves a polite and friendly response, which is something usually fine at giving in the time right after a book comes out, but then I get rusty, so this is reminder for me and anyone else who needs it. Don’t downplay your work, don’t hide your light under a bushel, and thank anyone who gives your work an honest compliment. They deserve it and so do you!