I haven't really had anything to talk about lately. Work is still the same except I'm moving to a new unit in June, so that'll be exciting. It's one the busier units so hopefully I'll have more tasks and won't go crazy with the slow pace. I really hate that.
I've begun writing children's stories. They aren't being published yet or anything but I have two stories written so far for varying reading levels. They're about our awesome dog, Eddie, and her fun happy dog times. I just need to find an illustrator but I've read that if your story isn't already illustrated and a publisher likes, then they'll work with you to find someone. Since most major publishers don't accept unsolicited manuscripts or ideas, I have to find an agent first. So... I guess that's my next step. Otherwise it comes down to finding an illustrator and the funds to self-publish with the hopes that it gets someones attention.
Writing for a living always seems like such a fantastic concept, and then you start researching publishing and the like, and it starts to seem like a terrible, rejection-laden concept. We'll see how the cookie crumbles, I suppose.
I've also inexplicably decided to let people read my stuff, with the intention of getting feedback. That's right. I'm asking people to please read my work that I put my heart and soul into, and then to tell me what they think. Because I am a masochist.
I gave someone a hard copy of an incomplete short I've been working on for some months now. The moment I realized it was out of my possession, I started to freak out. It doesn't matter how good you think your work is. The second you let someone read it, even if they aren't reading it while you're there, you start to doubt everything you've written.
It's a super fun awful time.
When I was 11 I wrote this poem (have I told you this story before?). I really liked it, I thought it was neat. I had never written a poem before, not in earnest and of my own accord. It wasn't for school or anything. I just thought these words and I wrote them down, and when I was finished I realized my intention the entire time was to create something beautiful and moving. It got left out on the coffee at home one day and my dad read it. He asked who wrote it and I said that I had. He said it was phenomenal. He used that word. Phenomenal.
Nobody had ever referred to anything I had ever done so positively before.
That same year I wrote a letter to a teacher who had retired from the school I was at. I told her about the poem. I told her, at 12, that I thought I found my calling. I was going to be a writer. I was going to write things that made people use words like 'phenomenal.' And they would be talking about me. She never responded to the letter.
A few months later I had successfully written another poem. I was proud of it. I let my dad read it. He was unimpressed. I reminded him that he thought the last one was so great. He was still unimpressed.
A few years later I had written a very short story. I was always writing. This story in particular I felt no real connection to, so when a friend asked if he could use it for an English assignment that he didn't really want to do, I had no problems saying yes. He got an A on the assignment. Nobody knew I had written it.
I was still letting some people read my work around this time. Just two very close friends. I thought about letting others read it, but then I remembered my conversation with dad, remembered the last time someone liked my work but didn't know I had written it. I wondered if they had, if they still would've liked it. I wondered if my dad was impressed with the poem because it was impressive, or if he was impressed with the poem because he didn't think his daughter was capable of something impressive. I didn't know if there was a difference. I still don't.
I wouldn't get any real feedback from my friends. They would say my stories were good, but they were never specific about what was good. It started to feel futile. I wasn't asking if I was any good. I was asking how I could be better. Having a grasp of the English language and a vague understanding of human nature doesn't make you the next great American novelist. (Does it?) I always needed (and still do) to be challenged. Hearing, 'this is really good' isn't a challenge. It's nice, it's reassuring. But it doesn't help me be better.
Eventually, I stopped letting people read. I kept hoping someone would ask and I would feel, I would know, this is the person who will help me. This is the person who will make me really look at my work, they will help me become confident in it and myself. This is the person that will challenge me.
That person never asked.
So I asked myself.
I sat down to write one day, with no intention of actually writing (as one does) and I immediately started a story and I didn't stop writing until I had finished it. I re-read it. And I re-read it. And I re-read it so many times. I liked it. More than that, I knew other people would like it. I set it aside and I went back to my older stories. The ones I set aside because I would always get to a point where I was forcing the story and it never felt natural. I took a long hard look at my work and I decided that I liked it. Most of it. I decided that other people would like it to. And then I decided that I could do better. So I've been doing better.
I don't need people to tell me my work is phenomenal. It's nice, it's reassuring. Of course it is. I need to tell myself my work is phenomenal. I'll never believe it when someone else says it anyway. I have to get there on my own.
I don't know what this all means right now. It's mixed up in my head still. It's mixed up in this post. I don't even know if it makes sense. I know I'm confident in my work for the first time since I was 11. I know I'll never write something and let someone else take credit for it again. I won't abandon my work like that. I pour so much of myself into my words, to just hand it over to someone and let them put their name on it sounds absolutely nuts to me at 25. I know I'm tired of seeking other's approval.
I'm a good writer. Sometimes, I'm awful. Sometimes, I'm phenomenal.
I said it.
