As I wrote in my Twenty Things post, I am in the process of writing a series of books. One of which is mostly complete to the eyes of someone else who may read it, however I’m sure that any author who pens anything never has a feeling of contention about their works completion. Hey, maybe that’s just me?!
A little tweak here, a pulled paragraph there, a meeting of characters removed that was never deemed to be, a name change, an edit of personality…
I feel a huge ball of protectiveness around the imaginary places I have created, the characters that add colour and dialogue to the pages, the relationships that I’ve built for them to have and the way they interact with one another. And also a stifling sense of trepidation of letting anyone read those words that I have written, the places I have created, the characters I have morphed and their relationships.
Isn’t the idea of writing to let other people read those freshly written words? Shouldn’t I want people to delve in to my imaginary settings and create the space as they want to see it?
Inevitably I do want people to read my books, but I think my fear lies in the form of exposure. I started writing these series of books when I was in a relatively low point of my life, writing became my outlet for that time and maybe somewhere between the lines, those closest to me could potentially see the bleakness I was feeling.
A fear of criticism is mingled in with those feelings and that along my sense of fierce protectiveness over my world leaves me feeling anxious.
I’ll put my hands up and say I’m not the best at taking criticism on the whole, but pack in something I have poured myself in to and having it criticised, well, lets welcome in sweaty palms and pounding heart as a starter.
I definitely advocate a ‘you can’t please everyone’ mentality, but with my writing the whimsical part of me likes to think it’s something that I would be able to do, when the rationale in my mind absolutely knows that it would never be the case.
This post possibly sounds a little self-serving, but it is a feeling I can’t shake. How do you let go of that ego and expose yourself? Shouldn’t I be shouting from the rooftops that I have managed to sit down to write 120 thousand words and create an entirely new universe?
I hope one day that I am able to let go of my huge ego and hand someone a proof copy of the place I love to visit. And hope that they love visiting it as much as I do.
And wouldn’t it be astounding to end up on someones bookshelf?