In this era when authors are expected to spend much of their time seeking the approval of readers—by “building a platform,” doing blog tours, conducting interviews, and praying for 5-star Amazon reviews—it may be helpful to look at how writers of an earlier generation used opposition to their work to make themselves better writers.
My friend and colleague Diana Glyer wrote a remarkable book called The Company They Keep: C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien as Writers in Community (Kent State UP, 2007). It analyzes the ways the group of writers known as the Inklings influenced one another. This group, which included Lewis, Tolkien, Charles Williams, Owen Barfield, and others, met regularly for seventeen years to read and critique each other’s work. Much of the influence these friends had on one another was positive and friendly, as they supported each other as resonators and collaborators, and as they promoted each other’s books through reviews and by other means.
But my favorite chapter of The Company They Keep is chapter 4, entitled “Opponents: Issuing Challenge.” I urge you to read it for yourself to get the full treatment of some of the fascinating encounters among these authors, but here I want to highlight a few things I learned as a writer about the value of Opponents.
“Oh, God, no more Elves!”
Can you imagine the privilege of sitting in a room and listening to J.R.R. Tolkien read from a draft of The Lord of the Rings? How would you like to relax by the fire and hear C.S. Lewis read a work-in-progress called The Screwtape Letters? That’s what the Inklings got to do, but they weren’t always happy about it. Tolkien, for example, didn’t like The Screwtape Letters. He was embarrassed that the book was dedicated to him. He also didn’t like The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, the early draft chapters of which Lewis read to him. He thought the book was “about as bad as can be” (qtd. in Glyer 86). Lewis felt stung by this unexpected negative reaction from his friend.
Tolkien himself endured the disapproval of other Inklings for some of his work. Some in the group couldn’t stand The Lord of the Rings, which Tolkien read to them in pieces throughout the many years of its composition. One Inkling in particular, Hugo Dyson, hated it so much that Christopher Tolkien describes a meeting this way: “And The Lord of the Rings would begin with Hugo lying on the couch, and lolling and shouting and saying, ‘Oh God, no more Elves’ “(qtd. in Glyer 86).
No Book WIll Satisfy Everyone
These scenes surprise me but also strangely comfort me. My first response is, how could anyone hate The Screwtape Letters or the Narnia books or The Lord of the Rings? As someone who loves those books, I think, what else could any reader want? Especially if they were written by your friend?
Yet I know that no book, no matter obviously good it seems to some readers, will please everyone. If you are a writer, take solace in that. No matter how good your book is, some readers won’t like it, and some will be actively hostile to it. If The Lord of the Rings can’t satisfy a reader, for heaven’s sake, then what chance does your book have of satisfying everyone?
How to Respond in the Face of Opposition
Faced with opposition from people they respected, Tolkien and Lewis had to decide whether to continue with these works-in-progress or abandon them. The decision to continue sounds like a no-brainer now that we know these books have become multi-million-copy international bestsellers. But as Diana Glyer has pointed out to me, at the time the Inklings were meeting, these men didn’t know they were “Lewis” and “Tolkien.” In other words, they weren’t celebrity writers with a worldwide following. They were two men trying to figure out where their writing abilities could best be used. Plenty of people who knew them would have thought setting aside these works was a good idea.
Tolkien kept writing, but he stopped reading from The Lord of the Rings manuscript whenever Dyson was present. As for Lewis, he already felt insecure about the worth of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe as he was writing it, and Tolkien’s harsh response only exacerbated those doubts. Glyer writes that “if Lewis had considered Tolkien’s response alone, the whole project might have been abandoned after just two or three chapters” (86). He didn’t listen only to Tolkien, thankfully. He got feedback from others. He kept working. Tolkien never changed his mind about these books, but millions of other readers are glad Lewis kept at it.
Using Opposition to Become a Better Writer
Glyer points out many ways in which the Inklings welcomed opposition from one another and used it to make themselves better writers. They didn’t seek approval from one another for its own sake. They wanted honest feedback presented in a forthright manner. Their works are better because of the ways they challenged each other. Glyer gives examples of how the various writers in the group abandoned flawed manuscripts or rewrote them because of opposition. Some of their discussions of manuscripts and ideas went on for months or years, as the writers strengthened their arguments and articulated them more clearly. Despite their literary disagreements, they remained friends. They didn’t do any of this perfectly. Feelings were hurt and lines of appropriate behavior were sometimes crossed. But in our time of Facebook “Likes” and endless hype, it is refreshing to read of opposition being put to such good use.
Related Content
Dr. Diana Glyer recently gave an interview about The Company They Keep to William O’Flaherty. The podcast of that interview is available here: http://
Comments 13
I appreciate being reminded of this important chapter in _The Company They Keep_, though doesn’t the example of Lewis and Tolkien’s reaction to the _Narnia_ books seem to be an example of Lewis simply ignoring his friend’s comments? Certainly, maybe Lewis had to do that to continue with the project. The same goes for the “elves” comments in reaction to Tolkien. It seems hard to ascertain how this kind of “criticism,” which seems to be an objection to central aspects of the project, maybe even the project itself, becomes an influence upon the work. But what do I know? Perhaps in both instances, the authors simply worked harder to bring the works to fruition. I do think that your main point here is central for creative folks. I’ve really been helped by members of my writing group who’ve told me when something I wrote wasn’t working.
Author
Yes, the tricky part about opposition is that a writer has to make careful judgments about what to do with it. Sometimes a writer needs to consider it and then move ahead with the work in spite of it. It can be a mistake to give too much weight to one person’s opposition. I know a writer, for example, who gave up on a novel manuscript she was pitching after only ONE rejection from one editor. Lewis and Tolkien were tough enough that instead of giving in to the opposition of a particular respected friend, they sought out a variety of feedback before deciding what to do next. On the other hand, sometimes the weight of opposition from a variety of sources is an indication there truly is something wrong with the writing, and it should be abandoned or significantly changed. The Inklings seemed to welcome tough, honest feedback, and had a willingness to set things aside if they weren’t working.
You’ve no idea how lovely is the timing of this blog topic! As I grow more confident of my “voice” and receive feedback that my writing is solid, I find that I need to develop confidence in “the value of my story.” The idea that these great writers once had to wrestle with that same issue is instructive to my spirit. Thanks for this.
The point of being open to opposition is that you are forced to see things and answer questions that you assumed were already answered. You seek out the opinion of others not to find out if your work pleases them, but to see if the message you intended to get across truly was heard. In the Inklings we see a great example of people who came from very different ideas of what a good story looks like. They all had different perspectives, and it wasn’t about trying to please each other. They kept coming back because it was a place where they could be challenged to think about what they writing through the eyes of people that though differently. That doesn’t mean they always took their opinions to Heart, but the fact that they kept coming back means that they saw the value in seeing the fruits of labor torn to shreds by someone who just doesn’t understand what they were trying to communicate. For me, when the way I write results in developing kind of short hand between my characters and myself. Sometimes this results in me assuming things are understood by the reader, and I rely on a few people to read my writing and give me honest opinions to prevent me from getting stuck in this pitfall. If we are not willing to expose or selves to those who would challenge that which we hold dear, we miss out on opportunities to not only better our understanding of why they are dear to us but to communicate more clearly why they are dear to us.
Author
Tim, thank you for articulating so well this point about opposition. It takes courage for a writer to submit to critique partners who may come across as harsh, but in the long run, the writer will be stronger. As you say, that doesn’t mean going along with every piece of advice you get. I guess the key is finding readers you trust.
The best exercise for me has been being in a writing group with six writers who don’t share my worldview in the least. They are accepting of my and curious about “Christian fiction.” It took a few months for them to feel comfortable offering me hard critique but once they did, it opened an exciting door where I could see what sections of my work had “general appeal” and what sections were “Christian-y.” We had some lively discussions about my work, the questions it raised about what I believe, and the need for the generally accepted guidelines for Christian fiction. One of the highest compliments I received was when one of our grouchiest participants commented “I don’t know why you only want to publish in Christian fiction. That story your writing would appeal to normal people, too. Throw in a sex scene and you’re good to go!” Some of their questions/challenges led to some tough conversations. Sometimes I changed my work, sometimes I didn’t. But it was a rigorous exercise in cleansing my work of “lingo” and “preaching.”
Author
Lori, you are fortunate to have such a group. I love the line about “normal people”! I think that if an “opponent” has overall good intentions toward the writer and wants that writer to succeed, the relationship can be helpful. I think that was true of Lewis, Tolkien and the Inklings, and it sounds as if it’s true of your group. But some groups turn toxic when the opponent becomes ONLY an opponent and really just wants to undermine the writer. Then, for me at least, it would be time to leave the group.
I agree. I can see where opposition could become toxic for many different reasons – jealousy, inexperience, or competitiveness for example. I think it helped in my group that no one felt they would ever have to “compete for a publishing slot” with my WIP since I was aiming for a completely different market. Knowing I was reading my work with people who don’t know Jesus yet, also spurred me on. If the book never gets published, at least I know it was used to plant seeds. One of the other writers once remarked, “I don’t believe in Jesus but sometimes your novel makes me wish I did.” That comment keeps me working at this. I imagine it might be tougher to be receiving opposition from Christians who come from a different perspective – that might have a higher risk of becoming contentious and would require a lot of grace to be constructive.
I think an element for Lewis was recognizing that Tolkien wasn’t the audience for his book and coming to terms with that. I would argue, from Diana’s book, that Lewis was a better critic of Tolkien’s work and gave him more usable feedback (and a lot of encouragement) than Tolkien was able to do for Lewis. They had different kinds of skin, of different thickness and different susceptibility. I kind of think Dyson’s exasperation with Tolkien’s elves was part of what caused the Inklings to finally dissolve, but that’s just my sense of it. In any case, the Inklings were a highly successful creative community for the better part of two decades – a great run, by any standards.
“If The Lord of the Rings can’t satisfy a reader, for heaven’s sake, then what chance does your book have of satisfying everyone?” … Touche. Something we should all continuously remind ourselves, and each other…
I just finished reading The Screwtape Letters. I loved it! Knowing just a little about the Inklings, and Tolkien’s dislike for the Narnia stories, I’m not surprised he didn’t like Screwtape. I’m wondering if Lewis didn’t dedicate it to him out of orneriness, just a little.
Thomas talked about how it seemed Lewis simply ignored Tolkien’s opinions about Narnia. I expect Lewis probably took into account the parts of the criticism that were constructive, and discounted other parts. For instance, I’ve read that Tolkien criticized Lewis for mixing different systems of mythology. If this mixed mythology was integral in Lewis’s telling of the story, he would, and apparently did, discount that piece of criticism. An author knows his story, so he takes the advice that will make it better and ignores the advice that will compromise it.
That said, it may be wise to discount critiques who are either all for or all against a piece. These may be slanted by personal preference (“I didn’t like it because it was mystery, and I like romance.” This critic may have no idea what it takes to write a good mystery), or biased in some other way. I’m a beginner in this business, but I’ve made the following observation so far: The best course of action is to put the greatest weight on critics that want to make a work better, regardless of their own opinions of genre, or the author as a person, etc.
Author
Andrea, I love this line from your comment:
“The best course of action is to put the greatest weight on critics that want to make a work better, regardless of their own opinions of genre, or the author as a person, etc.”
Thank you.
Thank God for the Inklings!
It seems like every time I get down on my writing, there’s a story about the Inklings to cheer me up again. If Lewis and Tolkien had opposition to their works, then I’m in good company.
I enjoy the idea of the necessity of opposition, and I especially appreciate the fact that one needs to be pushed around in order to develop as a writer. Some writing books I’ve read naively say things like “Ignore that little voice inside your head.” One book I read went against this and said “Your job is to tell it when to come to work. And the time to work is after you’ve developed a first draft.”
It’s hard getting people who are willing to critique work, though. Some people are so impressed that you actually wrote something (or are so scared to lose your friendship) that they give you high praise. Then there are those who just tell you what’s wrong with the work, and when you ask if anything’s salvageable, they give you a shrug and leave you in your misery.
Anyway, the Inklings have always been an inspiration for me, and I am happy to hear they also experienced opposition.