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Drunken self-pitying ramble on writing...
Nov. 3rd, 2006 03:02 amYou know... sometimes I wish I didn't need to deal with feedback. It's weird. Part of me wants the feedback, loves it even, but the other part... it's just ruining me. Every time I get high praises for stories I get this existential fear of never being able to be as good again. It never fails. And I feel that the tiniest form of criticism is always completely valid and makes me want to throw everything around. Never mind the fact that I've been carefully considering everything I've written for weeks sometimes. When someone raises the slightest bit of doubt I jump at it.
And I fear that people will be disappointed with my other stuff. Like when they tell me they'll be keeping an eye out for my work in the future. Usually that should make me feel proud and happy, but instead it makes me want to hide in a hole and never publish again because I think "Oh they'll just be put off by the sex I put into the story... they'll expect a mystery but it's just romance..." etc. It's very scary.
At the same time, I can't just ignore feedback. That'd be so rude. I treasure every one of them. I know how easy it is to just read a story and move on. It means a lot to me when someone took the time to click "comment" and do so, share their thoughts with me. I'm desperately interested even in how they perceived it, if it worked what I had in mind. So, it's in imperative to say thank you, to me. So the only way to not react to feedback would be to not allow it at all. But do I reeally want that?
I don't know if that makes me odd or eccentric or full of myself... I'm just so torn. It's like I just don't want to see the feedback while I'm still actively writing, because then it will influence my work and most likely jeopardize it. But on the other hand, feedback is so inspiring and gives you a good boost for future writing. If your emotions are feeling right, that is... which they often aren't. Usually they're not... no. So... what to do. I really don't know. It's like wanting the crack and hating yourself for it.
Writing... probably is the worst self-destructive habit I have ever indulged in. It... makes me so incredibly happy. It fills my life with meaning. And yet it puts me through the worst unthinkable agony. I'll never understand how something can make me feel so happy and yet to terrible at the same time. Sometimes I just want to push it all away, never write again. But... I always return. I just can't not write. But whenever I do I just feel insignificant and insufficient. Like my words don't mean anything. There were times when my mind was racing constantly. When I was filling pages after pages with my thoughts as I had gotten inspired randomly. Those days are long gone. I sometimes wish them back... desperately.
It scares me how I have all these ideas and I store them in my head in great detail, every single bit, and I really never forget them. And yet... I'm unable to let them out. I fear the day that I will die and all my stories will die along with them because this damnable inability to put them down on paper will have prevented me from just expressing myself.
Anyway, back to my original point. I just wish I knew how to solve this. Never publish again while I'm actively writing, but then risking losing interest midway by lack of pressure? Or continue to expose myself to the sweet torment? I really don't know...
And I fear that people will be disappointed with my other stuff. Like when they tell me they'll be keeping an eye out for my work in the future. Usually that should make me feel proud and happy, but instead it makes me want to hide in a hole and never publish again because I think "Oh they'll just be put off by the sex I put into the story... they'll expect a mystery but it's just romance..." etc. It's very scary.
At the same time, I can't just ignore feedback. That'd be so rude. I treasure every one of them. I know how easy it is to just read a story and move on. It means a lot to me when someone took the time to click "comment" and do so, share their thoughts with me. I'm desperately interested even in how they perceived it, if it worked what I had in mind. So, it's in imperative to say thank you, to me. So the only way to not react to feedback would be to not allow it at all. But do I reeally want that?
I don't know if that makes me odd or eccentric or full of myself... I'm just so torn. It's like I just don't want to see the feedback while I'm still actively writing, because then it will influence my work and most likely jeopardize it. But on the other hand, feedback is so inspiring and gives you a good boost for future writing. If your emotions are feeling right, that is... which they often aren't. Usually they're not... no. So... what to do. I really don't know. It's like wanting the crack and hating yourself for it.
Writing... probably is the worst self-destructive habit I have ever indulged in. It... makes me so incredibly happy. It fills my life with meaning. And yet it puts me through the worst unthinkable agony. I'll never understand how something can make me feel so happy and yet to terrible at the same time. Sometimes I just want to push it all away, never write again. But... I always return. I just can't not write. But whenever I do I just feel insignificant and insufficient. Like my words don't mean anything. There were times when my mind was racing constantly. When I was filling pages after pages with my thoughts as I had gotten inspired randomly. Those days are long gone. I sometimes wish them back... desperately.
It scares me how I have all these ideas and I store them in my head in great detail, every single bit, and I really never forget them. And yet... I'm unable to let them out. I fear the day that I will die and all my stories will die along with them because this damnable inability to put them down on paper will have prevented me from just expressing myself.
Anyway, back to my original point. I just wish I knew how to solve this. Never publish again while I'm actively writing, but then risking losing interest midway by lack of pressure? Or continue to expose myself to the sweet torment? I really don't know...
