External Validation and Internal Validation:
Making Sense of the Tension
To a degree we all seek external validation in our everyday lives. For example, we talk with friends not only to see how they are doing but to have a certain response from them: you are a good friend for asking how I’m doing/what happened with your neighbor was crazy—I’d be mad too/how are you holding up?
We also send our creations out to gatekeepers (editors, presses, literary magazines, galleries, etc.) because we want to be validated—we want our creations to be picked for publication or inclusion. We desire validation by parts of the larger writing/artistic community: this is good/thoughtful/worthy/ insightful/amazing, etc.
Lately I’ve been finding external validation, as a creative, is becoming a tricky road for me to wander down, for two reasons: childhood trauma and the practice of marketing.
As background, I did not grow up in a home that validated me as a person, let alone validated my creative talents. For the longest time after I chose to embrace my creativity, I wrestled with feelings of “not good enough” and wondered “Who wants to know what I think?” I spent many years convincing myself I was a valid human and a valid creative: poet, writer, embroiderer, carver, etc.
And eventually I realized I AM valid and my work is valid, my creative products are valid, my creative process is valid.
Then I came into contact with people who echoed my realizations: other poets who I workshopped with told me I was insightful, lyrical, had an interesting perspective; editors began sending positive rejections emails, acceptance emails, and occasional compliments along with acceptance emails; small press editors began wanting to publish my manuscripts; art editors wanted to publish my artwork and photographs. I was in heaven, in awe, amazed at the alignment between my self-identity and others’ validation at that identity.
Eventually, I came into contact with people who, although they were also creatives, had a completely different attitude about supporting and acknowledging other creatives (as you do). They were, for lack of a better descriptor, like my parents were: my accomplishments meant nothing to them, my validation as a human was of no consequence to them and they were not interested in me or my creativity in any real way.
Other people in this situation would likely have left these interactions vowing to not have anything to do with these people again. Unfortunately, I had a completely different reaction and tried my hardest to convince them, in interaction after interaction, that their perception was incorrect and I did handstands to try to convince them I was, in fact, worthy of their attention.
While in the middle of those interactions I was confused. After I realized I had been unconsciously seeking validation from people who had nothing in common with me other than they happen to be creative people and happen have my parents’ personalities, I felt angry, frustrated, humiliated and humbled. How hurt and desperate I have been, twisting myself into knots, to replay scenarios that had been played out over and over again in my childhood: I’ve gotten this much published, I’ve been nominated for this, I’m doing this…like me, like me!
There seems to be a fine line between building myself up and needing others to build me up; it feels like there is a part of me that still doesn’t truly believe in my worthiness if I am so easily thrown off by others’ reactions or lack thereof.
I am trying to figure out the best way to tackle this issue. Certainly, being aware of this reality will hold a lot of opportunity for me to become more aware of my proclivity to seek validation from others, but I also need to begin knowing how to discern who to share information about myself with.
Who, ultimately, cares if I was nominated for three Pushcart Prizes in one year? What if I never get nominated again? What if, after having a boon year of three chapbooks accepted for publication, I never see another acceptance? Does that mean I am not longer a poet? No longer worthy? (The answer, of course, is I am still a poet. The answer is: worthiness is not the point.)
The traditional process of marketing has only solidified my earlier confusion with external validation as the expectation is to tell others why you are the authority, why they need to purchase your work, why you matter. It all feels very capitalist-economy driven and that rubs me the wrong way. Maybe that’s because it is not intuitive for me to tout my authority. Maybe it’s because I am a woman. Maybe it’s because I have different values.
So, I’ve decided to redefine marketing as connecting with others—relationship-building. I want to ultimately connect with other people who are poets, who read poetry, who appreciate art, who want to try their hand at making zines, who want to make a new friend. If they happen to want to support me and my work, great. If not, then not. What matters is the experience that can be created together. If they are not interested in me as a poet and artist then we were not meant to enrich one another’s lives.
I need to remember that what I do in my creative life and for my creative life is for ME. It is not to impress others or garner accolades. It is not to prove anything to anyone else. And it is not really any of my business who wants to connect with me or not. It is simply my job to enrich my life and continue on a creative path for myself.
To quote the band Rush, from their song Limelight: “Get on with the fascination.” It doesn’t ultimately matter how others respond to my art. What ultimately matters, for me, is how to get on with my own observations, obsessions and fascinations and to share them.
Do you struggle with external validation and how to incorporate it into your creative practice? Do you have an understanding of how it fits into your life? Do you also place more emphasis on external validation than what is healthy for you to? I encourage you to share any tips/tricks with us!
No, I do not struggle with external validation. Even though I had my first play onstage in NYC at age 9 - - and it ran for months - - my stay at home Mom never attended a performance. But New Yorkers attended. There were many full houses - - happy hands that applauded and appreciated. My parents did not care and there are no pictures of me on the stage as a child dramatist. My mother often reminded me, "No one cares about you" - - despite my excellent grades, a gold medal at 15 for literary achievement, etc. . . . . . . . . . . . . But it turns out my mother was right: NO ONE CARES. Most poets will have their work die with them. There will be no major prizes. No library card will legitimize my writing. My words will be "writ on water." . . . . . . . . . This is the truth for 99% of the poets / writers publishing today. Their names will fade. It does not bother me at all. I still write and submit every day because only my internal contentment is my reward. External validation is truly "the dusty prize in the highway" (as Hawthorne wrote).
Thank you for these reflections! As someone who has spent most of my working life in academia, where external validation (the publications, the awards, etc etc) is the coin of the realm, I’ve often had to check myself with my creative work. While I want readers, audiences, etc., I have to remind myself that the work (creative or academic) can’t be about the gold star if it’s to be sustaining.