I’ve taken bold steps like skydiving, leaving my old life behind to live in a foreign country where I didn’t speak the language, and transitioning my career from something I’ve done since I was fifteen years old – to teaching teenagers. However, I find nothing as terrifying as sharing my writing with the world. If skydiving takes a wrong turn, I’m dead. If living in a foreign country doesn’t work for me (which it really, really, really, didn’t) I could just return home. And my students will eventually graduate, leaving whatever memories of me to just that, memories. But when I bare my heart and soul into my work, I am leaving myself exposed to criticism from the world. I am allowing strangers a chance to read my work and comment on what I’ve shared.
Growing up, I would write short stories and scripts. I didn’t know how to write in proper screenplay format, but that didn’t stop me. I would warn whoever read my work that I was still learning, and they were my friends. They didn’t know any better. But something happened when I reached college. I still wrote as an escape, especially from math class, but I stopped sharing my work with nearly everyone. I went from sharing my work with anyone who had an email address to just a very select group of people. I became terrified of two things:
- People not liking my writing and telling me it was trash.
- I didn’t want anyone to know I had severe dyslexia.
I was an awful speller and had atrocious grammar. Part of me feels that the public school system failed me. However, after working in the system, I know it did, but it wasn’t the teachers’ fault. So much red tape ties their hands that it is nearly impossible for them to actually teach. But that is a story for a different day. I didn’t become secure with my writing until I graduated from college. Even then, I had to break out of the technical academic writing and return to the creative style I love most.
My biggest breakthrough was working with my writing life partner that I’ve tortured for nearly the last decade. We would spend hours going over my work in google docs. Watching him live, edit my writing, and explain what I’ve done wrong was better than any degree I could have achieved. He helped me understand the points that I missed in school. I’m sure they were taught at some point, but my young brain didn’t absorb the information. Another thing he did was tell me when my work was trash. But he didn’t just say, “Alex, this is shit.” He would say, “Alex, this is shit because….” and we would work on expanding and correcting the issues. Our edit sessions have whittled because of time as we have grown older. Kids have gotten in the way of my hobbies. He, apparently, has something called a life. However, he has not been released from his blood oath of helping me finish my work 🙂
Time, care, and attention is what pushed me through my darkest moments as a writer. I’ve learned time and time again that the masses may not enjoy my work. However, I learned to appreciate those who like my work. Maybe one day I’ll be a famous author. Maybe I won’t. But I won’t let my fears trap me again.
Well said! You shouldn’t need people to edit your work with their comments, that’s for an editor… if they are not really reading what you write for its message, well… you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make them drink! Follow your passions friend… hugs