Let Them Go

I published a piece several years ago in the New York Times called, “My Autistic Son’s Lesson: No One Is Broken,” about how raising a child on the autism spectrum helped teach me to see a world without broken people. The response to the piece was overwhelmingly positive, but, as always seems to be the case, the posted comments I remember most were the few that were negative. For instance, one reader’s post began, “It’s nice that you can love your clearly unlovable son . . .”

I actually responded to this reader, writing that whatever he did, however far he fell in his life, whatever mistakes he made or dark paths he wandered he would always, always, always be lovable for no reason other than that’s what it means to be human. There was no reply comment, which I realized was fine with me. Though I liked what I wrote him, his post reminded me that once I’m done with an essay or story, what someone thinks of my stuff is ultimately none of my business.

I know it seems like my business. He wasn’t responding to thin air; he was responding to my story. I’d conceived and written it, edited and rewritten it. I’d submitted it, asking for the opportunity to share it. Had I not made all these choices, no one would have had the reaction they did. How could their reaction not be my responsibility?

Because that one reader had read the same words that those people who loved and were moved by the piece. As readers, our responses are governed by our own lives and beliefs and fears and desires, none of which a writer has anything to do with. Of course, I don’t want someone to read what I’ve written and conclude my son is unlovable, but the truth remains my son is loveable. That does not change because someone somewhere believes otherwise.

This may be hard as writers to accept because we like praise. It’s nice when people love my stuff, but that’s none of my business either. I do my best to make my work as honest and accessible and uplifting as I can, but once I’m done, I have to let what I’ve written go, in much the same way I have to let my children go when they walk out the door to go lead lives that grew from our love but belong entirely to them.

If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual coaching and group workshops.

Fearless Writing: How to Create Boldly and Write With Confidence.
You can find William at: williamkenower.com