The Learned Discipline of Taking Criticism

By Rob Shaul, Founder

In a prior life, I owned a small-town newspaper. I started it in my late twenties—young, inexperienced, and immature. I threw myself into it. I covered tough stories, took firm editorial stands, and endorsed political candidates. This didn’t sit well with everyone. The criticism rolled in: angry letters to the editor, cold stares at the post office, confrontations in the grocery store. Some longtime advertisers even pulled their ads. The personal and financial cost of taking a public stand was real, and I felt it.

There were three distinct stages in how I responded to criticism during those years. Early on, I took every negative comment personally. Each piece of feedback chipped away at my confidence. I felt beat up and worn down. It wasn’t sustainable. Eventually, the weight of it pushed me into the second stage: defense. I became reactive, emotional. I’d snap back, defend my decisions, question people’s motives, and write them off. This made me feel righteous—like I was standing firm—but it didn’t serve the community I was trying to reach. It didn’t make my work better. It just made me feel better.

It took years, but I eventually reached the third stage: acceptance. Not passive acceptance – useful acceptance. I realized that criticism, whether fair or not, could be used as a tool.. When processed correctly, it became something I could use to sharpen my judgment, refine my work, and improve my craft. That shift didn’t happen all at once. It was gradual, and it required developing what I now think of as a learned discipline—an intentional approach to receiving and processing criticism.

I still get it wrong. But here’s the process I try to follow now.

Receive criticism without flinching. No immediate rebuttal. No eye-roll. No subtle shift into defense. Just sit with it. Let it land. The urge to react is strong—but reacting shuts the door on understanding.

Truly listen. Not just to the words, but to the meaning behind them. Ask questions if needed. Make sure you understand what’s being offered before responding. If I need something simple to say in the moment, I use this line: “You may be right.” It buys time and keeps the conversation open.

Hold it with an open mind and open heart. Don’t grade the delivery or dismiss the person. Assume, at least temporarily, that they’re right. This isn’t about submission—it’s about truth. Then test the criticism honestly against your own work. Look at it like an outside consultant would—without emotion. Is there truth in it? Even a sliver?

Adjust if warranted. If the criticism holds up, make the change. Quietly. Quickly. No fanfare. And thank the person who offered it. If it doesn’t hold up, don’t discard it entirely. Ask what it forced you to examine. Often, that process reveals weaknesses in product or decision-making you wouldn’t have seen otherwise. Even bad criticism is useful—it forces you to review your work with fresh eyes.

What I’ve come to discover is that criticism, when approached with discipline, makes me a better craftsman. Properly accepted and applied, it always teaches something. It always improves the work.

I’m still learning—and I still get it wrong. But the ability to take a hit, absorb it, evaluate it, and use it—that’s made me better across the board. Not just as a journalist, coach, or business owner, but as a person.

For the aspiring craftsman, criticism is a gift. But it takes discipline to open it all the way.