Medium Is A Glass House And Nobody Throws Stones

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Abstract

andling it.Not all criticism is created equally, of course. There is a big difference between the person who commented ‘you scuk’ on my article [I still remember you, you little shit] and my editor telling me that my structure is all over the place. That’s not to say that both don’t add value. My editors and collaborators have taught me more about storytelling than my higher education ever could, likewise those internet strangers telling me I sucked helped destroy my confidence so I could rebuild it to become a more resilient writer.I think the majority of us here have turned to Medium because traditional publishing hasn’t worked for us. Maybe you’re like me. Maybe you submitted to every travel writing publication under the sun, heard back from none of them, and decided to do it yourself. Or perhaps you’re looking to build out a portfolio or leverage an article into a job or heaven forbid, make money with your words. There are more people who want to write than there are jobs for writers right now, and many of them wind up here, where they enter into a collective pact to support each other because all of us want to succeed.Which is great!Kinda.But before we can succeed, first we have to grow, and it’s almost impossible to grow if ‘thanks for sharing’ is the hardest feedback we’ve ever had to receive.I wrote for Riot Games for almost five years, one of the biggest game developers in the world, where they had something called ‘feedback’ culture. This was a fancy way of saying that anyone could say anything about any of your work because it’s important to both give and receive feedback to improve the quality of what you do.It was excruciating.I had random people in the company message me at two in the morning telling me how they didn’t like something I had written and how I should do it better next time. These were people who couldn’t even write a shopping list, let alone an article, and they were trying to tell me how to write a better script. I remember being s

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o angry about this until it taught me one of the most valuable lessons I ever learned as a writer.When your audience tells you there is a problem, they are almost always right. When your audience tells you the solution to that problem, they are almost always wrong. You have to find the solution yourself but you can’t find the solution to a problem that you never knew existed in the first place.I think we’re doing a disservice to our fellow writers by not providing feedback on the articles we read. That’s not to say that we have to read everything with a critical eye. Sometimes, it’s nice to read something for the enjoyment of reading or discovery, but guys, come on, let’s have some dissent amongst the ranks. If I’ve written something stupid on Medium [<a href="https://readmedium.com/how-to-shoot-stray-cats-in-japan-9aed1f915147">and I have written some stupid things on Medium</a>] then I want you to crucify me for it.There is a big, looming threat to our industry by way of AI, where so much of what we used to get paid to write can now be written with a few clicks of a button. If we want to succeed as writers, then we’re going to have to write things that can’t be written through machine learning. Our articles have to be better than good, they have to be great, which means honing our voice, developing our style, and writing stories that can’t be replicated because we’re the only ones who can tell them.How can we ever hope to do that if all we ever get is applause? Better yet, how do we know when we’ve knocked something out of the park when every response sounds the same?I’ve talked a big game about feedback but I’m wary of throwing the first stone in this glass house. I don’t want to be that guy. So, rather than throw the first stone, I’d rather get stoned myself, and invite anyone who made it to the end of the article to tear it [or anything else I have written] apart. Rip it to shreds, poke holes in my logic, correct my grammar, and call me a hack.Trust me, I can take it.</article></body>

Let’s break some windows, shall we?

I’ve never seen a negative comment on Medium. Everything I read, everything I write, everything on this platform is met with applause and ‘thanks for sharing’ and it makes me wonder if I’m still on the internet.

You know, the internet, the place with the favourite pastime of getting into fights with strangers and tearing people down just for having the audacity to share something they created. I’ve spent the past nine years working in ‘content creation’ and have been told on numerous occasions where I should stick what and none of it has been pretty [or physiologically possible].

Here on Medium, there is none of that. This platform seems to be immune to the negativity that oozes out of the rest of the internet and at first, I thought I had stumbled onto an online utopia. Here was a place where people were kind to each other, supported each other, and were encouraged to share their thoughts and their writing amongst a network of people who were all doing the same.

But then it got me thinking about the nature of utopias and what we have to sacrifice to achieve them. In the case of Medium, this collective positivity has removed one of the biggest catalysts for growth as a writer, the catalyst of criticism. From editors, from other writers, and even from strangers on Twitter with anime characters as their profile pictures, criticism is something that everyone receives at some point in their careers and so you better get used to handling it.

Not all criticism is created equally, of course. There is a big difference between the person who commented ‘you scuk’ on my article [I still remember you, you little shit] and my editor telling me that my structure is all over the place. That’s not to say that both don’t add value. My editors and collaborators have taught me more about storytelling than my higher education ever could, likewise those internet strangers telling me I sucked helped destroy my confidence so I could rebuild it to become a more resilient writer.

I think the majority of us here have turned to Medium because traditional publishing hasn’t worked for us. Maybe you’re like me. Maybe you submitted to every travel writing publication under the sun, heard back from none of them, and decided to do it yourself. Or perhaps you’re looking to build out a portfolio or leverage an article into a job or heaven forbid, make money with your words. There are more people who want to write than there are jobs for writers right now, and many of them wind up here, where they enter into a collective pact to support each other because all of us want to succeed.

Which is great!

Kinda.

But before we can succeed, first we have to grow, and it’s almost impossible to grow if ‘thanks for sharing’ is the hardest feedback we’ve ever had to receive.

I wrote for Riot Games for almost five years, one of the biggest game developers in the world, where they had something called ‘feedback’ culture. This was a fancy way of saying that anyone could say anything about any of your work because it’s important to both give and receive feedback to improve the quality of what you do.

It was excruciating.

I had random people in the company message me at two in the morning telling me how they didn’t like something I had written and how I should do it better next time. These were people who couldn’t even write a shopping list, let alone an article, and they were trying to tell me how to write a better script. I remember being so angry about this until it taught me one of the most valuable lessons I ever learned as a writer.

When your audience tells you there is a problem, they are almost always right. When your audience tells you the solution to that problem, they are almost always wrong. You have to find the solution yourself but you can’t find the solution to a problem that you never knew existed in the first place.

I think we’re doing a disservice to our fellow writers by not providing feedback on the articles we read. That’s not to say that we have to read everything with a critical eye. Sometimes, it’s nice to read something for the enjoyment of reading or discovery, but guys, come on, let’s have some dissent amongst the ranks. If I’ve written something stupid on Medium [and I have written some stupid things on Medium] then I want you to crucify me for it.

There is a big, looming threat to our industry by way of AI, where so much of what we used to get paid to write can now be written with a few clicks of a button. If we want to succeed as writers, then we’re going to have to write things that can’t be written through machine learning. Our articles have to be better than good, they have to be great, which means honing our voice, developing our style, and writing stories that can’t be replicated because we’re the only ones who can tell them.

How can we ever hope to do that if all we ever get is applause? Better yet, how do we know when we’ve knocked something out of the park when every response sounds the same?

I’ve talked a big game about feedback but I’m wary of throwing the first stone in this glass house. I don’t want to be that guy. So, rather than throw the first stone, I’d rather get stoned myself, and invite anyone who made it to the end of the article to tear it [or anything else I have written] apart. Rip it to shreds, poke holes in my logic, correct my grammar, and call me a hack.

Trust me, I can take it.