I am thrilled to bring the wisdom of Tara Sophia Mohr to this space today. I'm a fan. Of her. Of her message. Of the way she delivers her message. I have watched all of her TV appearances, have read her Huffington Post articles, and have devoured her story. I love that she helps create a world in which women play big. It's a wonderful mission, and she is a wonderful leader for women (including myself) who seek to be in touch with how they can best use their voice to make an impact in the world.
Todays guest post inspired me, deeply. I found it to be so totally true, all of it. And I hope it inspires you as well. 
This summer, I went through the process of signing a book deal. I wrote the book proposal (not the most fun writing project), sent it off to literary agents, met with potential publishers, and finally, chose a publisher to work with.
The process unfolded beautifully. I got a fabulous agent, a great publisher - Penguin, and an international deal to do a book based on my work helping women play bigger. Hurray!
That, though it might seem like the punch line, is not the real punch line—at least not for today. When I thought about what I wanted to write to you - Kelly Rae's dear people - I felt moved to share the real story of this book deal for me, a story about rejection, praise, and having a thick skin.
In my twenties, I took a seven-year hiatus from writing/creating, which I often call a “sabbatical sponsored by my inner critic.” During that time, I was so worried about being a “good writer” in others’ eyes that my creative voice became totally blocked, hacked to pieces by my own self-doubt.
In 2008, urged into action with my 30th birthday (“Ack! What if I never get back to my creative self!?), I started reclaiming writing for my own joy, my own self-expression. I realized I had to write for me – and stop worrying so much about what other people thought.
Since then, for the past several years, I've been working on "unhooking from praise and criticism”—becoming less sensitive to both.
I steeped myself in a truth I observed again and again in the world. Every woman I admired in the public sphere - writers, artists, political leaders, activists – drew both criticism (even hostile criticism) and praise. None were universally popular. If that was the case, why was I getting so devastated when one writing instructor or one friend didn't like my work?
I kept reminding myself – and talking about in my writing and Playing Big program for women – that if we say/do/create anything of substance, a range of reactions will come our way. I kept trying to school myself in the new idea that that range of reactions really was okay.
This summer, some publishers wrote back to me saying the book could never be a success because blah, blah and blah…and some said it seemed good, but not just quite special enough…and some said it was amazing and they couldn't wait to jump on it.
You know how there are those times when the painstaking work you’ve done on some aspect of yourself suddenly and unexpectedly bears fruit? This summer was one of them. I felt like a legitimate grown up having the conversations and reading the emails from publishing folks – the rejections and the eager yeses – and neither reeling in delight or crumbling in devastation. Instead, there was just a calm sense of "yup, this is the process to find the right partners to help get your work out there."
I’d say, to me, that is a large part of creative freedom: staying in your center as others have whatever reaction they have to your work.
This issue is hard for women because we've been raised to be likable, to please. It’s also hard because for our twenty years in school a single authority figure (the teacher) evaluated our work. If I were to redesign school, I'd have students often graded by a diverse panel of teachers so they'd get a range of grades and comments. That would help us learn, as we grew up, that there is no one final judgment on our work - especially our creative work.
Playing bigger means becoming tolerant of others’ criticism, misunderstanding or indifference toward our work. Playing bigger means praise is the cherry on top of the sundae, but not the sundae itself.
What lessons have you learned about receiving praise and criticism in your creative life?
Love,
Tara
You can visit Tara’s website and get her free 10 Rules for Brilliant Women Workbook here. Or, want to check out her Playing Big program for women? The next session starts in September – the scoop on that is HERE.