It starts out as a lot of jaw-drop fun, in an oh-my-God, how-not-to-deal-with-criticism kind of way. Later comments in the 307-item thread, from countless folk desperate to show how much more professional than Howett they are, become mean-spirited and dull, but that initial, escalating tornado is pretty essential reading and I'm still chuckling at much of it. (Particularly the second of Howett's two "Fuck off!"s, which proves she's listening to none of the rather reasonable advice being given to her by shocked folk.)
Upon linking to Howettgate on my Facebook page, however, I became aware that 'Howettgate' has shone a bright light on the rather raw, grey area of (a) how writers should feel about criticism of their work and (b) whether they should ever respond - particularly in a public forum.
For my money, direct responses to criticism - whether public or otherwise - pointless and reek of unprofessionalism. If someone doesn't like an aspect, or even all, of your work, then it's their subjective opinion and you'll be unlikely to change their mind. Certainly, if someone has spent money on your work, they're entitled to say pretty much whatever they like about it. I've seen both good and bad reviews of my own work, and am perfectly happy to let the warm rush of the good wash over the undeniable momentary disappointment of the bad. If there was to be a damning, widespread consensus, this naturally wouldn't be pleasant, but you'd be foolish to rail against it, as that consensus would clearly be sending you a message...
Ultimately, I find it difficult to take criticism personally because it usually comes from such a personal perspective. The critic's tastes simply don't chime with what you've created. If the pair of you got talking about films or food, you'd probably disagree on those too. So where's the hurt? I certainly don't feel it. The most I ever feel is a very mild irritation when net-critics appear to be frustrated writers (you can always tell those by the way they litter their assessments with technical writing terms, as if to not-so-subliminally convince the reader that they know the game and could do this better).
While comedy is surely one of the hardest and most stressful things to write, I also believe it to be a field where you'd be truly mad to take criticism personally. Humour is so blatantly subjective that you can hardly hold it against the viewer if your work doesn't tickle their mirth-glands.
It takes strength to absorb, ignore or cherry-pick the useful parts of criticism, then get on with your work with a quiet confidence, coupled with a never-ending desire to improve. For me, this cherry-picking approach works best. The idea of a writer 'taking' criticism imbues the critic with undue power - as if every negative missile automatically finds its target and damages us, unless we either respond or erect a tough barrier. Instead, I like to think of criticism as existing in a kind of 'critical limbo', from which we can reject or accept whichever positive/negative nuggets we choose. A criticism buffet, if you will. (What's that, you say? You won't? Fuck off! Ho ho.)
Of course, if someone makes an untrue personal accusation, then this is clearly different to offering their opinion of your work. Even then, these kind of snide hecklers don't exactly present themselves in the best light and in responding you may well give them the attention they crave. Probably best, nine times out of 10, to forget about them and get on with your work.
Writers definitely face a wobbly tightrope. Topple off one side and we become leaves in the wind, overly swayed by the opinions of every Tom, Dick and Harriet. Topple off the other and we become Jacqueline Howett, circa March 2011.
Surely, the answer is to ensure we're happy with our work. If that's the case, then we shouldn't need to waste energy and radiate insecurity by defending it. And, frankly, if we're working hard enough, we shouldn't have time.
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