This morning, I’m going to write about the cycle, the ebb and flow of the writer’s psyche: the elation, the depression, the fantasy, the misery, the accolades, the criticisms, the swell and the drain, the yin and the yang. God, I’m tired of (but am going to have to embrace) the fact that I’m a sensitive, moody artist—one who is extremely affected by the opinions that other people have of my writing. When they tell me I’m good, I’m on top of the world, imagining life as it should be, imagining I have finally come into my own. Then one critique too much, one slip of the rug under my feet, and I’m unbalanced. My first reaction (particularly to someone who may or may not be a husband and who may or may not be writing at this particular time), is to say: “why don’t you write something better, then?”
The cycle:
I finish a story I don’t feel particularly good about, but am happy to have finished as it’s taken several months, off and on. I don’t expect anyone to think the story really works, but deep down, deep down, I think, wouldn’t that be nice if someone did.
I give the story to "someone" (who may or may not be a husband) to read, just as a first impression. He’s normally a good reader, has insightful opinions.
He reads half the story and thinks it’s amazing, says I’ve found my style, best thing I’ve written. I’m elated. I’m delighted. Maybe I can't recognize my own talent.
He finishes the story, says “wow, that was creepy,” then turns over to go to sleep. Hmmm.
I can actually feel the joy drain from my body. I’m quiet for a time, then finally have to ask, “What, you didn’t like it?”
Why? Why did I have to ask that question? Why couldn’t I have left well enough alone?
He proceeds to list some pretty major issues: my favorite scene might be too much, certain characters' language was not believable, the ending doesn’t satisfy, it’s over the top. Then he says I just need to “tighten it up a little”. He sounds condescending.
Confidence stripped. I proceed to spend the next couple of hours tossing and turning, stewing, trying to find a way to blame him.
There’s no getting around it. Writing is hard. I’ve chosen a difficult, often unrewarding vocation (today it does not feel like an avocation). But here’s my remedy: I’ve got my butt in the chair and I’m doing my time. That’s the only thing to do. There was a day when I would have closed the computer and found something else to do, believing there was no point in continuing. I would have stopped until inspiration or encouragement or a good mood hit me again. But not now. Now I’m hoping that sitting through this pain, this disbelief, charging right through the center of the insecurity is going to dispel this particular depression. Maybe the act of putting in the time, maybe that alone will make me a good writer.
4 comments:
OMG. Your post had me laughing! Not at you, of course, but with you--in the sincerest of ways because I so relate to what you're talking about. Though lately the only critic of my work is me, and that's demoralizing enough! You capture the insanity of writing very well. :)
Amen, sister, and ditto what Bug says. Check out the front-of-the-book sections in The Writer and Writer's Digest. WD has a section called InkWell, and I could see this piece being publishable there (I'm serious--you really hit on stuff that resonates with writers). And WD or The Writer has a column called "Off the Cuff" (can't remember which one runs it), and this could also work there, IMHO.
Also, my favorite anecdote from Stephen King's "On Writing" is this: he was working on a book--this is WAY after he became famous etc--and he and Tabitha, his wife, were in Florida, where he was doing research. He finished the manuscript, and as they drove back to Maine, Tabby read the ms while Stephen drove. Tabby is always his first reader, and Stephen said that as he drove, he kept looking out of the corner of his eye to see Tabby's reactions--was she laughing enough? Did she look engaged? Finally, she looked up at him and snapped, "Stop being so goddamn needy!" He drove the rest of the way home staring straight ahead.
The lessons? 1. That's love. 2. Even writers like King still have major insecurities, especially when showing their work to the people they love--and want to impress--the most.
Thanks Ladies- Glad I could make you laugh. It feels good to be back on the ole blog.
Love that SK story RB. It does make me feel better to know that we're all in the same boat. And I'll think about the FOB stuff, of course, it'd need some "tightening up" first!
Great return, Repeater. I can so relate to every word you said. It's a pretty sick cycle we find ourselves in. That need for approval is crushing! I love the King story, RB.
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