In the early days of our friendship, my dear friend Carina and I would sit and compare notes on the members of the opposite sex that we found attractive. Whether it was drooling over this musician’s eyes or this actor’s ass, or on rare occasions, actually both knowing the person either of us was lusting over, one thing was immediately clear: We had nothing in common when it came to what we were attracted to in the male sex. On more occasions than not, not only did we not find the lust-object desirable, we found them down-right gross. The first few times, we would chastise the other, accusing the other of being blind or high or stupid or all three. After that, Carina simply shrugged. “At least we’ll never fight over the same man,” she’d say. That became the party line, one that we still use, fourteen years into our relationship.
I’ve come to apply this same philosophy to many interactions when it comes to me having vastly different opinions about particular experiences with my friends. It’s easier than insulting them when they rave over the newest book by the author you loathe, declining invitations to concerts of bands you think suck balls, or throwing up in your mouth when they mention trying to set you up with this “really cute” guy they work with. You just giggle off taste preference differences and no one’s feelings are hurt.
Throughout my five writing conference residencies, I’ve had hundreds of conversations with my fellow writers about mentors and workshop leaders. We are lucky enough to have published, successful, working writers mentor us, read our original text, and constructively comment to make us better. I’m always amazed when my “fabulous experience” with a particular mentor is so completely different than another writer’s, especially when I it is a writer I really admire and feel a kinship. True, you can always say it was because that student worked with the mentor another time, with another group dynamic, when the Jupiter was in retrograde. But when it is a student is in the same workshop as you and comes away from it with a polar opposite vibe, it can be, well, awkward, to say the least. There you are, spouting compliments like a volcano and they want to punch the instructor/mentor/workshop leader in the throat.
What you thought was supportive and cheerleader-esque, the other person read as rude, inconsiderate, and just plain mean. What you thought was fabulous input, the others thought was a waste of place in the Stone House. Can you just chalk that up to difference of opinion?
In all honesty, it is usually me who is the person who has had the terrible experience with the workshop leader when the others are ready to give birth to the teacher’s children. I’ll admit, I’m a stubborn Taurus, and once someone has crossed me the wrong way (justified or not) I usually don’t forgive them (even if doing so would be “appropriate,” “mature,” or “in my best interest.”) I’m a jerk when it comes to things like that, especially when it’s my graduate education and I know I’ll be paying off student loans until my daughter is 87 years old. I want the best and want to work with the best. Even if I don’t act the best myself….
Of course, there is a certain sense of justification when you find someone (or many someone’s who share your distaste (dare I say hatred) of the said instructor/mentor. I want to jump up and say, “Ha! I’m not the only one!” (even of it is the minority opinion)
Fast forward to last week, my last residency before graduating with my MFA. I was talking to other writers that I respect deeply on a personal and professional level. We were talking about a particular mentor that we had mutually worked with that I had a horrific experience with (and thus have held a grudge against) and who she had worked with and loved. As she glowed on about how she had grown as a writer as a result of working with said mentor, I had to share my not-so-positive-or-flattering opinions loudly. Afterwards, I felt badly because, well, I didn’t want it to come across as an insult to the student (just the teacher!)
How, then, do you tactfully insult someone’s opinion of something they like (a lot) without hurting them a little bit in the process?
I wish I could hold my tongue, but I can’t. I wish I could be more forgiving, but I can’t. I’m stubborn and old unchanging and set in my ways, good and bad.
I do, however, offer this nugget of reconciliation, and I hope that it is enough…
At least we’ll never fight over the same man…er, mentor…
I’ve come to apply this same philosophy to many interactions when it comes to me having vastly different opinions about particular experiences with my friends. It’s easier than insulting them when they rave over the newest book by the author you loathe, declining invitations to concerts of bands you think suck balls, or throwing up in your mouth when they mention trying to set you up with this “really cute” guy they work with. You just giggle off taste preference differences and no one’s feelings are hurt.
Throughout my five writing conference residencies, I’ve had hundreds of conversations with my fellow writers about mentors and workshop leaders. We are lucky enough to have published, successful, working writers mentor us, read our original text, and constructively comment to make us better. I’m always amazed when my “fabulous experience” with a particular mentor is so completely different than another writer’s, especially when I it is a writer I really admire and feel a kinship. True, you can always say it was because that student worked with the mentor another time, with another group dynamic, when the Jupiter was in retrograde. But when it is a student is in the same workshop as you and comes away from it with a polar opposite vibe, it can be, well, awkward, to say the least. There you are, spouting compliments like a volcano and they want to punch the instructor/mentor/workshop leader in the throat.
What you thought was supportive and cheerleader-esque, the other person read as rude, inconsiderate, and just plain mean. What you thought was fabulous input, the others thought was a waste of place in the Stone House. Can you just chalk that up to difference of opinion?
In all honesty, it is usually me who is the person who has had the terrible experience with the workshop leader when the others are ready to give birth to the teacher’s children. I’ll admit, I’m a stubborn Taurus, and once someone has crossed me the wrong way (justified or not) I usually don’t forgive them (even if doing so would be “appropriate,” “mature,” or “in my best interest.”) I’m a jerk when it comes to things like that, especially when it’s my graduate education and I know I’ll be paying off student loans until my daughter is 87 years old. I want the best and want to work with the best. Even if I don’t act the best myself….
Of course, there is a certain sense of justification when you find someone (or many someone’s who share your distaste (dare I say hatred) of the said instructor/mentor. I want to jump up and say, “Ha! I’m not the only one!” (even of it is the minority opinion)
Fast forward to last week, my last residency before graduating with my MFA. I was talking to other writers that I respect deeply on a personal and professional level. We were talking about a particular mentor that we had mutually worked with that I had a horrific experience with (and thus have held a grudge against) and who she had worked with and loved. As she glowed on about how she had grown as a writer as a result of working with said mentor, I had to share my not-so-positive-or-flattering opinions loudly. Afterwards, I felt badly because, well, I didn’t want it to come across as an insult to the student (just the teacher!)
How, then, do you tactfully insult someone’s opinion of something they like (a lot) without hurting them a little bit in the process?
I wish I could hold my tongue, but I can’t. I wish I could be more forgiving, but I can’t. I’m stubborn and old unchanging and set in my ways, good and bad.
I do, however, offer this nugget of reconciliation, and I hope that it is enough…
At least we’ll never fight over the same man…er, mentor…
