One of the hardest thing to do, in life, is to figure out when to take criticism and when to ignore criticism. Helpful criticism can be invaluable, but unhelpful criticism can be destructive. The challenge is—how do we tell the difference? Alas, we all need to make those distinctions for ourselves.

In his terrific autobiography World Within World, poet Stephen Spender wrote about how criticism, even when thoughtful or well-intentioned, can pose a danger—if we listen to it when we shouldn’t. He observed, of literary criticism:

To overhear conversations behind his back is more disconcerting than useful to the writer; though he can perhaps search for criticism which may really help him to remedy faults in style. But he should remember that the tendency of reviewers is to criticize work not for what it is but for what it fails to be, and it is not necessarily true that he should remedy this by trying to become other than he is. Thus, in my own experience, I have wasted time by paying heed to criticism that I had no skill in employing rhyme. This led me to try rhyme, whereas I should have seen that the moral for me was to avoid it.

So sometimes, we need to ignore criticism.

But sometimes, it’s important to hear criticism. In my own experience, it often takes me years truly to grasp a criticism someone has made of my work. Because of course, my impulse is always to resist it!

When I was just starting out as a writer, I wrote a proposal for a book that later became my first published book, Power Money Fame Sex. How I loved writing that book.

One of the agents who considered the proposal said, “There are too many ideas per page.”

I couldn’t believe it. I thought that was an absolutely bonkers criticism. How could there be too many ideas? It reminded me of the famous scene in the movie Amadeus, when, after a performance by the genius composer and musician Mozart, Emperor Joseph II tells him, “Your work is ingenious. It’s quality work. And there are simply too many notes.”

But over time, I’ve realized that I was wrong to dismiss that comment. The fact is, my style can be too condensed, and I’ve learned that I need to guard against my tendency to tighten and tighten. Also, each time I write a book, I have to cut way back on the examples, digressions, and contingencies I include, and I also have to cut at least half of the quotations I’ve put in.

I’ve learned that I do throw in too many ideas—I write a paragraph or a chapter that could be a whole book. This might sound like a humblebrag, but really, it’s not.

Now I aim to discuss the right number of ideas related to my subject, not the most number of ideas that I can squeeze in. 

What is helpful criticism, and what is unhelpful criticism? This reminds me of my Secret of Adulthood: “Accept yourself, and also expect more from yourself.” These are such important questions, and no one can answer them but ourselves.