Thick Skin is for Rhinos

We’ve all heard it. “You need thick skin to be a writer.” 

Photo from Canva

Author and mentor Jerry Jenkins even holds what he calls his “Thick Skin Critique,” where writers can submit a page of their work and watch while he edits and explains. It’s a wonderful learning tool, especially because the writer voluntarily submits himself to it.

I used to agree with the thick-skin philosophy, but over the years—after more rejections than I can count—I’ve become convinced the thick-skin image can cheapen our God-given human feelings and may even rob us of some healthy emotional processing and growth. I often hear people say, “I don’t think I could be a writer. I couldn’t handle the rejections. How do you do it?”

Oddly, the answer matches my answer to the question, “How do you handle praise?”

Throughout my 20 years of leading a church drama team, we’d frequently discuss how as Christian artists we should handle applause and congregational praise. After all, people with other gifts don’t necessarily receive praise. Ushers and technicians and children’s ministry volunteers don’t hear applause. Usually, they don’t hear anything at all until they goof up. Hardly seems fair.

At the same time, disregarding praise and appreciation can come off as false humility at best (“Oh, it was nothing,” or “It was all God”) or as an insult at worst (“Are you kidding? I was terrible!”) Dismissing the other person’s opinion is demeaning and a lousy way of connecting with your audience.

So, what’s the answer?

What worked for us as a drama team and what I’ve taught other Christian writers, is this. When you’re offered praise, whether in the form of a five-star review, kind words spoken face-to-face, or a gushing email from a reader, accept it as you would a lovely rose. Say thank you. Tell them it means a lot because it does. If you receive more than one, collect them into a bouquet. Enjoy their beauty, their fragrance. Relish the confidence they inspire in you.

Then, at the end of the day—because fresh flowers don’t last—lay them at the feet of the One who truly deserves them. The One without whom you couldn’t take a breath, let alone write anything valuable. The One who made you creative—your Creator. Say, “Here, Lord. These belong to you.” Leave them at His feet, where they belong. Start fresh tomorrow.

You might not think the same can be said for thorns sent your way, but I believe it can. I see no point in pretending rejections or bad reviews don’t sting. You’re human. God knows this. It’s far healthier to receive those thorns honestly, collect them into an ugly bouquet, and examine them to see if they might include a sliver of truth from which to learn. Allow yourself to feel the pain, cry if you need to, and get angry if you must. Just don’t use your anger for vindication or to rant on social media about your mistreatment.

Then, at the end of the day, take that bouquet of thorns and lay them at the feet of the only One who can truly handle them. The One who already experienced thorns pressed into his skull and nails hammered through his hands. He’ll receive them gladly because he knows your frailty and He loves you dearly. Say, “Here, Lord. Please take these because I can’t handle them.” Leave them at His feet, where they belong. Start fresh tomorrow.

Your character is tested both by the praise and the criticism that comes to you. Every compliment that graces your ears should ultimately rebound to your heavenly Father. If you hold onto it, pride will eventually infect your heart. Humility comes when you pass the praise to God. Likewise, negative criticism can tear you down, destroy your confidence, and keep you from doing the work God is calling you to do. Next time those thorns come your way, instead of allowing discouragement to take root or telling yourself you have thick skin and thorns don’t bother you, try feeling all the feels and then handing them over. Go through the physical motions with your hands if it helps. Say the words out loud. “Lord, this is for you.”

 “Whoever heeds life-giving correction will be at home among the wise.” Proverbs 15:31 (NIV)

 “Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time.” I Peter 5:6 (NIV)

Lillie and Diana

In 1940, Lillie, a young woman with a deeply troubled past, turned for comfort to another man while her husband served overseas in World War II. When Lillie discovered she was pregnant, she sought an illegal abortion without informing a soul, not even the man with whom she’d had the affair.

At a doctor’s office a few weeks later, Lillie learned she’d been duped. She was still pregnant. When, a few months later, her husband returned wounded from the war, it’s difficult to say who was more caught off-guard—Lillie, at the sight of her husband’s facial disfigurement, or her husband, at the sight of his pregnant wife.

Fast-forward to 2019. A young woman named Diana is enjoying her single life in Edmonton when a mysterious DNA test result indicates something amiss in her family tree. When her 80-year-old father begins to reveal the long-kept secrets his mother, Lillie, passed on to him before her passing, Diana is swept into Lillie’s world. Meanwhile, Diana feels torn in half by the two most terrifying invitations she has ever received: to adopt a young girl’s unborn baby, and to marry a man she considers only a friend.

It requires over three hundred pages to adequately tell Lillie’s and Diana’s stories, even though they are mere figments of my imagination. This split-time tale is the novel I wrote in 2020 while the world was locked down. I titled it “From the Ashes.”

In February of 2021, my agent pitched “From the Ashes” to seven publishers. By January of 2022, we’d received our seventh rejection and my agent had run out of potential publishers. By that time, I’d completed another manuscript and we moved on to a new round of rejections. “From the Ashes” was history in more ways than one.

When the 2022 Braun Book awards opened for submissions, I decided to enter “From the Ashes” even though I knew its odds were slim. After all, I’d entered four other manuscripts in this contest over the course of thirteen years and never won. But what did I have to lose? My last pathetic shred of confidence? I sent it off and forgot about it.

On May 27, I received a phone call. The team at Word Alive Press in Winnipeg had selected “From the Ashes” as the 2022 Braun Book Award winner! They plan to publish the book before the end of the year. This will be my first novel published in Canada.

I share all this with you, my readers, as a reminder. My author’s journey has provided the perfect metaphor for life. Just when you think all hope is gone, it’s not. Just when you think you’ve got it made, you don’t. Just when you think your path is clear, God comes along with a surprise that shifts your direction. Through it all, you learn he can be trusted. He truly does know what’s best.

To prove this point even further, the week before I planned to post this story, my agent dropped me from her clientele list due to not being able to place my books. If you’ve ever been fired from a job or dumped by a boyfriend/girlfriend, you’ll know how humbling this feels. I loved being part of that agency and feel deeply disappointed and sad. Will it mean the end of my novel-writing? Possibly. Will "From the Ashes" be my final hurrah? Could be. Only one thing is certain. It’s not the end of God’s faithfulness. I didn’t know how much I’d need to read my own words this week.

As the release date for “From the Ashes” nears, I’ll keep you updated. While I hope you enjoy Lillie’s and Diana’s stories, I hope even more that you’re inspired by mine.

Don’t give up. God has a plan. He hasn’t forgotten you.

 

The good, good Father

Father’s Day can be a reminder that we’re all just a bunch of wounded little kids, can’t it?

One of the pitfalls of being a published writer is exposing your work—and yourself—to criticism and rejection. I know authors who don’t read reviews of their books because it can be too painful, especially when a negative one comes on an already difficult day.

This happened to me recently. I’ve always read all my online reviews. Though most are positive, some real stinkers show up as well. It proves you can’t please everyone, that readers’ tastes vary. The positive reviews keep you writing, the negative reviews keep you humble—at least in theory. I have even taught other artists tricks for handling both praise and rejection.

But for good reason, this review felt like a personal attack. And when the words come from an anonymous stranger, there’s little you can do. 

You can cry. I did not, although that’s often my go-to reaction. 

You can hit something. I didn’t do that, either. 

You can toss back a handful of chocolate chips. I resisted, this time. 

You can brush it off and tell yourself it doesn’t sting. I knew full well it did. 

You can go on social media, rant about how stupid the reader must be to not “get” what you were trying to say. I’ve seen authors do this. They are looking for someone to defend them, and it works. Until it doesn’t. Either way, it appears unprofessional, immature, and frankly, kind of pathetic.

I distracted myself for an hour with a TV show, and when the show ended, the hurtful words surfaced again. Thankfully, it was bedtime. And thankfully, I have this little routine when I crawl into bed. I recap the events that seem significant from my day—good, bad, or ugly—whatever comes to mind. I thank God for each one, then lay it at his feet. He alone deserves the praise for the good stuff, and He alone can handle the difficult stuff. This is also a good time to confess the wrongs I’m guilty of from that day, as they come to mind, and ask His forgiveness.

Then, as I snuggle down into the sheets, I let my bed and blankets represent God’s warm loving arms around me. I become an infant, cradled in the embrace of a devoted parent—safe, secure, precious. Loved beyond measure by the one who made me. It’s a wonderful way to fall asleep. And it came in handy that night.

The next morning, I looked at the painful book review with fresh eyes. This time, I saw the words of a hurting person wounded by religion. Someone who doesn’t know she can go straight to her Creator who loves her like his little child. This time, I was able to pray for her. And yes, even to shed some tears. For her.

None of this would happen on my own. It does not come from years of church attendance or self-discipline or religious rule-following. It’s a direct result of embracing the truth of God’s commitment to his children. And it’s yours for the asking. You have a good, good Father. It’s who he is. And you are loved by him. In fact, it’s who you are. Loved. By. Him.***

 

“I’ve been carrying you from the day you were born, And I’ll keep on carrying you when you’re old.” (from Isaiah 46)

Happy Father’s Day!

***Lyrics from Good Good Father, Chris Tomlin, 2016