How a Few Loyal Friends Helped Tolkien Overcome His Creative Insecurity

I am obsessed with The Lord of The Rings. And I mean freaky-fandom-stalker obsessed. 

My twitter feed is basically just a stream of Lord of The Rings / Tolkien fan accounts. 

The most recent book I read is a collection of letters Tolkien wrote. The letters are compiled by his son and include all the correspondence between Tolkien and his family, fans and publisher. 

They are a fascinating insight into Tolkien, and his creative process. But there’s one thing that emerged from his correspondence that took me completely by surprise - Tolkien suffered from a significant degree of creative insecurity.  

I couldn’t believe that this towering giant of literature suffered from so much doubt about whether his work was any good, or whether anyone would want to read it. 

When replying to his publisher on positive feedback they had given on his manuscript of The Silmarillion, he says, 

‘My chief joy comes from learning that The Silmarillion is not rejected with scorn. I have suffered a sense of fear and bereavement, quite ridiculous, since I let this private and beloved nonsense out; and I think if it had seemed to you to be nonsense I should have felt really crushed.’ #letter19 

There are countless other extracts from his letters, even after the success of The Hobbit, where he reveals a lingering sense of creative self-doubt. Constantly referring to the work as ‘his silly fairy tale’ or ‘his nonsense’. 

But perhaps the most striking is this. Just before the publication of The Lord of The Rings, he writes, 

‘I am dreading publication, for it will be impossible not to mind what is said. I have exposed my heart to be shot at.’ #letter143

There are two obvious reasons for the trepidation he felt when it came to sharing his work.

Firstly, Tolkien’s work had something of him in it. 

‘It is written in my life blood, such as that is, thick or thin; and I can no other.’ #letter109

Whenever we imprint something of ourselves into our work it feels scary to share it with the world. Though of course it also ends up being our best work; it's raw, it carries emotion, it connects with others in a unique and wonderful way. 

Secondly, I think a big reason was the context Tolkien found himself in. 

He was a professor at Oxford, and so spent most of his time around other academics. He would tentatively mention The Hobbit (and then The LOTR), but their response was frequently demeaning. 

‘I think ‘Oxford’ is mildly aroused. I am constantly asked how my hobbit is. The attitude is (as I forsaw) not unmixed with surprise and a little pity. My own college is I think good for about six copies, if only in order for finding material for teasing me. Appearance in The Times convinced one or two of my more sedate colleagues that they could admit knowledge of my ‘fantasy’ (i.e. indiscretion) without loss of academic dignity.’ #letter17

6 copies!! Talking about underselling yourself. 

It’s clear the academic context he found himself in was a little snooty about his creative endeavours to say the least. 

So within that context, how did he persevere? Especially given the fact he had a rigorous and demanding day job. And his health was up and down. 

The answer to that question gradually emerged as I got from one letter to the next.

His academic peers may have been derisory about his ‘fairy tale nonsense’, but….he had a small group of loyal friends who did get it. A group of friends who he met with on a regular basis in pubs, or in their rooms in Oxford, to share excerpts from their creative writings, and offer criticism and encouragement to one another. 

This group became famously known as The Inklings, and included Owen Barfield, Charles Williams, and of course one of Tolkien's best friends, CS Lewis.

I’d known about this informal literary group, but I’d had no idea quite how important it was in helping Tolkien overcome his creative insecurity and get his work published. 

They would each take turns to share excerpts from whatever they were working on, and then the rest of the group would give feedback. 

Such was the support and encouragement of this small group, that Tolkien himself claimed without it The Lord of The Rings would never have happened.

What an amazing thing. To think that the greatest work of fiction in the 21st Century was born out of community.

So often the misconception of creators is that they are creating in a vacuum. 

I really love what Tiago Forte says on this in his book Buildings a Second Brain: 

‘A common myth of creativity is that of the solitary artist, working in total isolation. We are implicitly told that we must shut ourselves off from the influence of others and flesh out our masterpiece by the sweat of our brow.’ 

In my experience this isn’t how creativity works at all. It doesn’t matter what medium you work in; sooner or later you must work with others. If you’re a musician, you’ll need a sound engineer to mix the record. If you’re an actor you’ll need a director who believes in you. Even writing a book which may suggest images of a lonely cabin deep in the woods, is an intensively social exercise. A book is created out of a dance between an author and their editor.’ 

Nothing we create is done in isolation.

So what can we learn from The Inklings? How did they benefit so much from each other’s support and criticism?

Here are a few of the things that struck me…

Honest feedback and genuine praise went hand in hand

When it came to criticism they didn’t hold back! Frankly some of the feedback they gave to one another sounds brutal to an outsider. 

On one occasion Tolkien wrote a lengthy apology to CS Lewis for going too far. He says 'I regret causing pain…and I am very sorry still for having caused it quite excessively and unnecessarily…..Doubtless, as you say, I have as a member of the brotherhood a right to criticise. But I shall not lightly forget my vision of the wounds.' (#letter113)

On this occasion Tolkien went too far and had to apologise. But clearly they had a deep trust and affection for each other within the ‘brotherhood’; it was a safe space for them to be brutally honest, safe in the knowledge they could recover from it if they went too far.  

And there’s another side to this sort of relationship; it also made them into each other’s greatest cheerleaders. This heart warming letter CS Lewis wrote to Tolkien is a lovely example of the praise they gave one another. It shows that honest feedback and genuine praise went hand in hand. 

They each played the role of critic and creator

They each gave advice, and they each received advice. This would have fostered a really nice dynamic, because they all made themselves open and available for criticism. 

It’s hard to share your work vulnerably with others, if they aren’t willing to do the same. 

They discovered their best ideas through sharing them

It was in the very process of sharing that they discovered which were their best ideas. This sort of live feedback enabled them to see what hit the mark, or what fell on deaf ears. 

Letter 70 is a great example of this. Tolkien talks about his struggle in writing and rewriting a particular chapter of Lord of The Rings:

‘I wrote and tore up and rewrote most of it a good many times. But I was rewarded this morning as both CSL [CS Lewis] and CW [Charles Williams] thought it an admirable performance, and the latest chapters the best so far.’ #letter70

Personally I think The Lord of The Rings is the greatest work of fiction of the 21st Century. Whether you agree with that or not, it’s quite remarkable to think that it would not have come to fruition were it not for the support of a small group of loyal friends. 

When Tolkien came to finally have The Lord Of The Rings published, he put forward CS Lewis as the person he wanted to do the forward. 

Tolkien’s publisher responded by saying this was a terrible idea. Apparently Lewis’ reputation at the time was very bad and the publisher strongly recommended against him.

Tolkien’s response?

CS Lewis was doing the forward and that was that. He didn’t care about the public animosity and was proud to be associated with him, stating…

‘...only by his support and friendship did I ever struggle to the end of the labour.’ 

#Letter149

Perhaps the real joy in success is that we can look back and say ‘I would never have achieved this were it not for these people.’ 

I wonder. What creative labour are you involved in? 

How might you benefit from the support of a few loyal friends? People who will give it to you straight, but also cheer you on. People who are willing to show up for you, because you show up for them. People who ‘get’ what you’re doing.