I certainly struggle to find things I want to write about. Which is funny, because if I were to write about the things I think about I’d never run out of content. I’d also offend a number of my readers, since usually the stuff on my mind has definite political leanings.
…Or I’d just freak everyone out. My brain is a sad, strange little organ (reference to Toy Story – who got it??).
Even though it’s a constant battle to think and subsequently write new content, I think this blogging is helping to hone my skills as a whole. At the very least, I’m better at first-person POV. My very first short story was in first-person – I can’t remember why I switched to third-person…probably because most of the novels I was reading were in that point of view. Anyway, that first story was undeniably cringy and I’m never, ever sharing it here.
As a matter of fact, all of my stories up until, I think, “The Wall” were absolute trash. (Almost used another word there – fill in the blanks yourselves). “The Wall,” originally based on a Pink Floyd album (the title, not the story, although I did have a spin-off where everything is based on the songs), still has its flaws, of course. But there comes a point where you must make the choice to be content with your work and skills and move on, regardless of what your inner critic says. In art, an artist must learn to love their work before they worry about how terrible they are. Write for yourself, first; then, when you’re happy with it, write for the public. Another way to say this: “Write drunk; edit sober.”
Of course, this doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take helpful feedback during this phase of learning to be satisfied with your skills. When I first started writing, my first editor (love you mom) tried to give me critiques; however, my 13 year old self was not pleased, and I was quick to give her a dirty look and snatch away my ridiculous little story. I still have the urge to do that now – an artist’s work is like their child after all; we can’t bear to see it picked apart – but I know everyone who has negative things to say about my novels and stories are only, in the end, trying to help me. What I’m trying to say here is this:
You’re doing the best you can with the experience you possess, wherever you are and with whatever you’re doing – don’t sweat the cringe. Cringe will fade away with time and skills will grow. Mastery won’t happen overnight, so give yourself time and try not to feel too down in the dumps.
I’m directing this towards myself as much as I’m directing it towards all aspiring artists. I’ve varied between wow-I’m-such-a-good-writer-that-was-a-genius-line (conceited much?) and how-did-I-even-get-published-no-one-wants-to-read-this-nonsense, ever since I started writing. Then I realized. I’ve been doing the best I can with the experience I possessed. Judging my past work with the skills I have now will only lead to feeling like a failure and it’s unfair to my younger self – just like it’d be unfair to judge my current work to work I do 20 years from now.
So you see, it’s important to remember the bigger picture.
On the flip side, let’s back away from this inspirational rhetoric for a second. Sometimes, you just need a pity party. Complaining, like bitterness, is a paralytic (thanks Sherlock!), but it might take you being paralyzed from disgust with yourself to have an epiphany: you only fail if you give up. Have you given up? I hope not; I want to read whatever stories or essays you can dream into existence – and I’m not the only person out there who wants to support budding artists. Like Pressfield said in his book “The War of Art,” give us what you’ve got! And when the critics either in real life or in your head start to give you issues, remember that you’re doing the best you can with the experience you have. You’ll get better as long as you keep trying.
So try, okay?
-WordTechnician
Word Technician 