Pleasing Others . . . or Ourselves?
I am nearly 38 years old (yikes!!), and there are still times I feel like a kid. I feel as though I am seeking approval. I want people to be proud of me - my family and friends. Recognition or validation that what I do is worthwhile. That I am worthwhile. Why do I seek this approval from others? At what point do I accept the fact that I am a valuable, productive member of society and that it doesn't matter what other people think? Does it matter what other people think?
I'm struggling with this particular issue right now. I have turned my baby loose (Denim & Diamonds), and allowed other people to read my writing. It is a very, very difficult thing to do, for allowing people to read my writing is to allow them to get a glimpse into the inner workings of my mind (and, no, it's not autobiographical). It means opening myself up to criticism, both constructive and destructive, and I don't take criticism well. I suppose I will be growing a thick skin in the coming weeks, months and years. In the past, when I took that tentative first step, sent out a feeler and got a rejection in return, I simply withdrew and acted like it didn't mean that much to me, so I would just quit. Yet, time and again, I return to writing. For me, writing isn't a hobby. It is a creative outlet that I must pursue, it's quite simply who I am. My high school psychology/history teacher used to tell me to quit worrying so much. He would look at me, tilt his head to one side and give me that "get real" look. "Slick, is it going to matter in ten years?" I'd shrug. "Is it going to mean, literally, the end of civilization as we know it?" I'd shrug again. "Then quit worrying!" So, Mr. Sims, thanks for the push. I'm going to quit worrying, and I'm going to put my work out there. What's the worst that can happen? I become one of a long list of wanna be authors that who never quite make it. What's the best that can happen? Well, let's just say that I'm reading "On Writing" by Stephen King now . . . and that gives me plenty of the "best that can happen" to dream about!
I'm struggling with this particular issue right now. I have turned my baby loose (Denim & Diamonds), and allowed other people to read my writing. It is a very, very difficult thing to do, for allowing people to read my writing is to allow them to get a glimpse into the inner workings of my mind (and, no, it's not autobiographical). It means opening myself up to criticism, both constructive and destructive, and I don't take criticism well. I suppose I will be growing a thick skin in the coming weeks, months and years. In the past, when I took that tentative first step, sent out a feeler and got a rejection in return, I simply withdrew and acted like it didn't mean that much to me, so I would just quit. Yet, time and again, I return to writing. For me, writing isn't a hobby. It is a creative outlet that I must pursue, it's quite simply who I am. My high school psychology/history teacher used to tell me to quit worrying so much. He would look at me, tilt his head to one side and give me that "get real" look. "Slick, is it going to matter in ten years?" I'd shrug. "Is it going to mean, literally, the end of civilization as we know it?" I'd shrug again. "Then quit worrying!" So, Mr. Sims, thanks for the push. I'm going to quit worrying, and I'm going to put my work out there. What's the worst that can happen? I become one of a long list of wanna be authors that who never quite make it. What's the best that can happen? Well, let's just say that I'm reading "On Writing" by Stephen King now . . . and that gives me plenty of the "best that can happen" to dream about!
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