That Really Deep Writing Post, Part Two

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post comparing my housekeeping job at a classy inn to what writers tend to go through, and if you haven’t read that one yet, you should. Or else.

Currently, I’m in the middle of packing, and I’m switching gears as I prepare to move to another state, so I’ve finished up with that job (don’t worry, I wasn’t fired—this was the plan all along). But, since I really enjoyed working at the inn and I know that I’ll miss it, I wanted to write a second comparison post. You’re welcome.

Treat Your Housekeepers/Writers Well. (This idea was actually suggested by one of my fellow housekeepers, so I can’t take credit for it.) Housekeepers work hard to make sure that the rooms you stay in are clean and presentable. They have to run back and forth, swapping stained sheets for unstained sheets and stained towels for unstained towels, all the while cursing the easily-marred whiteness of the linens and the terrycloth. They get down on their hands and knees to clean the toilets and the mop boards and the scuff marks on the walls from careless luggage handling. They go into trashed rooms and turn them into livable environments (even when they’d rather just call a Hazmat team and get it over with).

Writers, too, work hard. We spend hours and hours pounding out our first drafts, and even more hours turning those into something vaguely readable. We chop words and kill darlings and torture our characters, and we drink copious amounts of caffeinated liquid in a desperate attempt to remain sane. We endure the embarrassment and the disappointment and all the other negative emotions that come with receiving critiques from beta readers. And very many of us do this, not for money, but because we want to.

Without housekeepers, you wouldn’t have clean hotel rooms, and without writers, you wouldn’t have books. So treat your housekeepers and your writers well, and they won’t plan your death. True story.

Judgements. Both housekeepers and writers must deal with the opinions of others, whether good or bad. We like it when people recognize our hard work and tell us how much they appreciate what we do, but there will be times where we must endure harsh, often unwarranted criticism. Guests might complain about nitpicky details that are beyond our control. Irritated customers might call us lazy and misconstrue our actions, even when we’re working our bums off and following policy (I’m speaking from experience here).

Likewise, writers will have fans, however many, but they will also have not-fans. Sometimes those not-fans will have legitimate reasons, and sometimes they will share those reasons nicely and rationally, but often it seems that people find fault because they want to find fault. And they won’t necessarily by polite when they point out those faults. Readers will question a writer’s motives and make judgments about that writer’s character. They will misinterpret stories and react far too strongly for the situation, and they will give less weight than they should to the author’s intentions.

Unfortunately, that’s all part of the job. At least the bad experiences make the good ones seem so much better, and at least we can use the negative feedback as a chance to learn and improve.

Advice. In a similar vein, people will offer advice, whether solicited or unsolicited. And no one seems shy about sharing their opinions.

Often people will tell my boss what they feel she could do differently—that she should add such and such a feature to her rooms or her lawn or whatever. Some of this advice might be helpful, but for the most part it’s better to just smile and nod and ignore all the fiscally irresponsible feedback. People tend to be far too eager to run other people’s businesses, anyway.

Likewise, with writers, we face all sorts of input. If we have shared our work in any way, shape, or form, people will tell us what they think. And they will also tell us what they think we could be doing better, even if we have not asked for their opinions. They will offer us story ideas and character ideas and whatnot. They will inform us the ways in which both our writing and our style can improve. Again, some of this input can be valuable, but authors have to throw out most suggestions in favor of sanity.

All in all, it’s a matter of personal discretion, and hotel owners/housekeepers/writers must find their own style and stick with it, even if it means ignoring much of the unsolicited but generally well-meaning advice. Once you put yourself in their shoes, you’ll understand what it’s like.

Interaction. Last, but not least, both housekeepers and writers face customer reviews. Some people seem eager to point out all the good qualities of our work—others seem far more eager to find the faults (whether real or imagined). While we can benefit from facing up to the ratings and the reviews, at times we also need to distance ourselves. To the customer, our services are a product to be evaluated, and that’s fine. But to us, our services are a matter of pride and joy, and it can be difficult to watch people tear us down for all the world to see. Likewise, it can be similarly hard to process good feedback (yes, we are rather interesting creatures, are we not?). In the end, it boils down to a matter of personality—do we benefit from the ratings and the write-ups, or do we benefit from walking away and avoiding the outside voices. Does the input help, or does it drown out our own inner peace or creative muse? No two housekeepers are alike, and no two writers are alike, and what works for one won’t necessarily work for another.

Well, that’s it, my little coffee beans. I probably won’t come up with any other housekeeper/writer comparisons now that I’m moving on to another job. But I’d love to know if you have any work/writing parallels of your own.