Do you love your writing when you hear someone else just got an advance from Amazon.com that’s large enough to erase your credit card debt?
I don’t. When I come home, and my shabby, smelly writing comes bounding up to meet me at the door — I want to kick it. I want to kick it because it’s not a beautiful blue-ribbon winner. I want to kick it because it doesn’t obey. I want to kick it because it was adorable when it was four months old, and now it gets hair everywhere and has gunk in its eyes. I fixate on what I hate about it, and would rather destroy it than face my own inadequacies.
For all its flaws, our writing is ours. Whether we stick with one project or spit out dozens of new stories each year, they are ours, and we need to respect their boundaries. These stories came to us because they wanted to be born. They wanted to live with us, play with us and help us cope with life as only art can. In return, all they ask is enough of your love to keep them alive.
Even your roughest work improves your skill.
Don’t get down on the writing when it’s ugly; and don’t get down on yourself when you have doubts. Even if you’ve been burned before, know that the best work comes from an open heart. Bend a knee, wipe the gunk out of its eyes, and remember why you brought it home in the first place.
“Love requires the suspension of disbelief.”
– Matthew S. Trezza
“Everyone you see, everyone sitting across from you is an aspect of yourself. Once you learn to accept yourself on every level, that’s when the party begins.”