I asked my husband to read a little something I wrote. It's rare I do such a thing, because A) he's one busy dude and B) he's not my target audience. But he humored me. And when he didn't offer an immediate comment, I thought maybe my piece had touched a soft spot in him, in a way he had to absorb before sharing. That maybe he was moved by my talent, proud to have such a creative wife.
I finally asked his opinion, ready for praise. [Insert ego here.]
"It's way too detailed. Reading it wore me out."
I admit I was surprised--that's not what I thought. And then a little bummed--because that's not what I thought. But I didn't argue, didn't get defensive. I considered his simple words, and came to decide I was okay with them.
Because I'd asked to know what he thought, and I needed to be a big girl about his honest (if blunt) feedback. And because my potential is not hinged on his sole offering.
But mainly? It was a lesson to me. That among the good critiques and supportive comments, there will be those less so. That there will be people who don't like my writing. And I have to accept that. That's the reality.
Have you had a similar dose of reality?