The beginning of the section "Other People" is titled "Just Sharing." It's worth repeating here because it captures what I've seen go on here for a long time. There are fewer who contribute now and I feel that may be because their offering was critiqued so harshly and severely that, even if not with that one poem, after several or a number of them, they became disheartened about sharing them and finally stopped. Even in lesser situations, some of the hurt and hard feelings have been quite evident in various ways. This portion seems to capture the dynamics that make the difference in that. Some variations of the suggestions mentioned here might be useful if tried by contributors. If not, perhaps, others just keeping in mind some of the ideas expressed in here can be helpful. She meanders into some other issues which I've gone ahead and included, but my focus is on the first three paragraphs. I know for certain that some people come here simply to share what they've heartfelt written. Others are more interested in critiques, suggestions, and revisions according to what the feedback they've received. It really depends on the person who's posting what they've written.
Just Sharing
Unless you're writing strictly for yourself, at some point you'll want to show your work to other people. It's imprtant you tell the other person why you're doing that. If you want comments, say so, but if what you're really after is to share something you've written, then - especially if the person you're thinking of is close to you - be sure to make that clear.
When I was in my middle thirties, I started sending poems I thought were finished to my father. Each time I did that, Daddy would suggest radical changes. He'd been the editor of his college literary magazine, and he was trying to be useful. I understood his motivation, but his comments hurt my feelings anyway. And besides, his critiques weren't even helpful, because he came from a different era and our editorial eyes were completely different. These exchanges cast a shadow over our whole relationship until I finally realized that I should have made it clear. I was only looking to share. Once I explained that, we both relaxed and everything was fine again.
But just saying you don't want comments may not be enough information. It may actually throw your reader into a panic. "If she doesn't want suggestions, then what does she want?" It can help a lot if you just say something like, "I just wanted you to see how much I cared about Aunt Mary," or, "This was a beautiful moment, so I wnated to share it with you," or "I know I've looked down lately; maybe this will help you understand." Once she knows what you want, she can relax and enjoy your poems. Besides, setting all that up ahead of time is nice for you too, because it lets you sidestep the disappointment you may feel when what she comes up with wasn't what you wanted to hear at all.
Now it may happen that no matter what you do, you will find that someone close to you doesn't seem to understand. Maybe it's your wife or husband - let's say it's your husband who brings up every chance he gets that you're wasting your time, and that if you really want to write, you should try writing something that might sell. Or maybe the problem is that your husband is so used to reading for information that he finds it impossible - no matter how he tries - to understand what you're trying to do. After a while, you'll begin to notice even your most beautiful lines cringing when he looks at them. All of which may leave you feeling frustrated, even angry. But let me point something out that, if you believe me, will save you all this twisted energy.
Suppose you've been dating a mason. Suppose then that he takes you on a tour of the jobs he's proudest of. The house he slows down in front of, which to you looks exactly like every other house on its block, is an exceptionally fine pointing job to him. The side of the "Wal-Mart" which looks like just another Walmart to you, represents months of his tapping bricks into place so they're perfectly aligned with the string, all the while leaving behind so little mortar on the surfaces that the wall looks as if it might have been built by machine. Now be honest. No matter how you try to work up some enthusiasm, it's going to be clear to him that you don't get it. Think how he's feeling at the end of this, as the two of you pull into his driveway.
"Or... suppose instead that you're a guy and your new love interest is a sailor, who spends all her time either working on her boat or thinking about it - how she can fabricate a part to fix the macerator or the winch that sticks, how she might trim the jinny next time so she can get an extra half-knot out of that following wind. You may think in principle that billowing sails and blue seas are poetic, but in practive what happens is that every time she starts in on one of her speeches, you keep smiling because you love her, but your inner face goes blank.
The point I've been trying to make, which I'm sure you get by now, is that the mason/sailor isn't going to change you and you aren't going to change the mason/sailor. The sub-point I'm trying to make is that that's okay. If you can stop wanting him/her to be more like you, maybe he/she will be more inclined to relax and let you be who you are. What you'll find after a while is that sharing your work with your partner-not-like-you will get easier, because you'll have stopped expecting from him/her what he/she can't give. And in turn he/she will be free to be proud of you, because you'll have stopped projecting the sort of discontent that naturally tended to stiffen him/her both against poetry and, by association, against you.
~ Lizzy