How To Survive Criticism
A Hard But Freeing Truth (Comedy Mindhacks #95)
If you spend any amount of time in comedy, criticism isn’t just a possibility, it’s a guarantee. It shows up in comments online, in conversations after shows, and sometimes from other comedians who are smiling at you while quietly hoping you don’t do well. I’ve seen it in all those places, and I’ve felt it hit in different ways depending on the day. Learning how to deal with it is part of the job whether anyone tells you that or not.
That’s the case because criticism doesn’t just test a comedian’s material, it tests their identity, too. Criticism forces us to decide pretty quickly whether we’re going to be defensive, dismissive, or reflective. I’ve had moments where I wanted to brush it off and act like it didn’t matter, and other moments where I took it too personally and let it sit with me longer than it should have. Neither one really helps in the long run.
Yesterday, as I was sitting in church listening to the sermon, the preacher made a point and, as he did, it brought to mind an old quote I’ve thought about many times over the years. It’s a line from Charles Spurgeon, a prominent preacher in the 1800s. He said, “If any man thinks ill of you, do not be angry with him. For you are worse than he thinks you to be.” If I could change it just a little bit to hit even a little closer to home, let me do so just to make a point: “If anyone speaks ill of you, do not be angry with them. For you are worse than they think you are.”
It’s a jarring statement, especially in a culture and business that tells us to protect our image at all costs. But the longer I sit with Spurgeon’s statement, the more I realize it’s about putting and keeping criticism in its proper place. In comedy, it’s easy to think every negative comment is an attack that needs a response. Someone doesn’t like your set, someone calls out a bit, someone questions your approach, and the instinct is to respond and likely defend yourself. Spurgeon’s point cuts right through that instinct.
The fact is: If I’m honest about who I am and where I’m at, then no single critique fully captures me anyway. Honestly, there’s a strange kind of freedom in that. If I know I’m a work in progress, then I don’t have to panic every time someone points out a flaw. I can listen, sift through what’s useful, and leave the rest without spiraling. As one of my old seminary classmates used to say about church folk critiquing pastors, “Take the meat, leave the bone.”
Obviously, I’m not saying I go looking for criticism or that I pretend it doesn’t sting sometimes. No doubt, some comments still hit harder than others, especially when they come from people I respect or when they land on something I already feel unsure about. But I’m learning that the goal isn’t to eliminate that feeling; it’s to not let it control how I respond or what I do next.
Comedy already puts enough pressure on comedians so adding the weight of every opinion on top of that is a quick way to burn out. There’s always going to be someone who doesn’t like what I’m doing, and sometimes they’ll be loud about it. That’s why Spurgeon’s statement has become a kind of mindhack for me. When criticism comes, instead of immediately reacting, I try to step back and remember that I’m not a finished product. I’m still figuring things out, still refining, still growing. I just happen to be the kind of person who does that publicly, who puts himself out there and lets others witness the process.
Now, I want to be clear: That doesn’t excuse bad work on my part, but it does put all of my work in context. And most importantly, it gives me room to improve without feeling like everything is on the line all the time. In a way, Spurgeon’s line doesn’t lower my standards, it stabilizes them by reminding me that my worth isn’t tied to a comment, a set, or a single performance. It also reminds me that, in a culture where any idiot can leave a hateful remark, I don’t have to win every interaction or prove myself to every person or anyone. I just have to keep doing what I do and prove myself to me.
In the world of stand-up comedy, there’s always more than enough criticism to go around. It’ll always be that way; it’ll never end. So, having a Spurgeon-like perspective in the middle of it all is important. If someone talks crap about me and says, for instance, that I suck at comedy or I’m not funny or whatever, I can just ignore them. Or, I can tell them or even just tell myself, “You know what? I might even be worse.” That doesn’t mean I hate myself, am beating up on myself, or getting down on myself.
This actually has nothing to do with whether I agree at all with someone or completely disagree with their remarks. This is about my response. That’s what matters. And this one perspective from Spurgeon helps keep me grounded and humble. It helps keep me grounded when things are going well and when they aren’t. It helps me take the meat and leave the bone. It helps me take what’s useful, ignore what isn’t, and move forward without carrying everything with me and, in comedy, that mental skill is priceless.
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