You'd think as a writer (or aspiring writer, such as it is) I'd be a bit more comfortable with the idea of people reading my material by now. That, however, is not at all the case. Despite numerous notebooks and Word files filled with what could have been (or still be?) the beginning of something great, I refuse to let anyone read it. Why? I'm not ashamed. I think much of it is decent; no, more than decent. I enjoy reading it. So why then?
Because it isn't done. Perfectionist that I am, I refuse to let anyone's eyes grace the pages of my musings until they are complete, polished, worthy. Needless to say, it's never happened.
In talking with one of my good friends recently, I rambled on about how I wish I could just stay at home and be an author - writing the day away, intermingled with runs around the block in the sunshine - instead of sitting in my cubicle without so much as a glimpse of sunlight.
She asked if I had finished a book yet.
No, not yet. But I have two really promising ones going.
She asked if I had let anyone read them yet.
Uh, negative. Hello, they're not done yet!
To which she replied with what I've known all along, deep down, but have refused to listen to:
"You know, if you're going to be an author, eventually someone is going to have to read your stuff. You should get used to it."
Ouch. Say it ain't so.
Still, knowing it's true and making it happen are - much like writing - two entirely different things. I'll admit, with my attention span and the way I bounce back and forth between ideas, not to mention my obsession with editing and perfection and organization, it will take me longer to get it done. And in the meantime, what could it hurt to have another set of eyes take a glance and let me know if they're eager to know more or if they fell asleep after Page 2?
And so I promised that I would send her the latest of one of my drafts.
That was over a month ago now. What can I say? I had every excuse in the book.
It's not ready yet.
My characters aren't fully developed.
I haven't edited it yet.
IT'S NOT DONE.
But the truth? The truth has nothing to do with the fact that the book isn't ready yet. The fact of the matter is that I am not ready yet - for the scrutiny, the vulnerability, the criticism that might result.
Then there was last night - last night was a good night. My fingers flew across the keyboard, ideas were flowing, I couldn't even get to sleep when I finally put my laptop aside. I fell asleep thinking, now this, this could be something really good.
But is it? When I mentioned this to that same friend on this same morning, she responded with an e-mail of congratulations, support, and interest. And a sly tagline that read:
"PS - Wasn't I suppose to see one of those a long time ago?"
Ohhh...right. Well, better now than never. If I'm going to make it in the writing world, where everyone is a critic and your best friend - your editor - is paid to rip it apart bit by bit, I'd better let go of it just a little bit and open up. That's not to say I'll start posting my work everywhere and to everyone. Not yet. But a few respected opinions are worth their weight in gold. Be gentle.
Am I nervous? Of course. A writer never wants to hear that their writing sucks. When you say that to a writer, you're effectively telling them that they suck. And then people are surprised when they see an alcoholic, deadbeat character that bears a striking resemblance to them in a bestseller 10 years down the road. Eh?
Still, opening up my writing more on this blog (which I will attempt to maintain - follow through, for once!) is a start. It's a step, and a big one for me. In a world full of imperfections, I'm finally willing to expose one of the most personal expressions of myself - my writing. We'll see what it brings, but for now, I tell myself that, while writing is obviously the biggest first step, it isn't much without a reader. And hopefully someday, I'll have more of them.
No comments:
Post a Comment