when you see it.

I am stubborn. I hate to be told I'm wrong. I hate to be told what to do. I also have widespread insecurity about my talent and abilities and I tell you what: I have a hard time with criticism.

I know that it's something I need to work on.

Here's the thing with writing: it's not all objective. I can write a piece, edit it, read it through twice, feel pretty good and then discover that someone else doesn't get it. Outside of my own head, it's completely possible that it doesn't make sense.

I am trying to get serious about this. I am trying to live the writing life that I long for. I am coming back, again and again and picking up the pen. I am fully aware that a necessary step in my writing self-actualization (as it were) is learning to accept and get comfortable with criticism. I'm trying.

My usual reaction follows this pattern:
I send off the piece, it doesn't matter to whom. Total stranger, someone who loves me, whatever. As soon as I click the send button, my heart starts racing. I imagine them reading the words and feeling total disgust for the words, and obviously by extension, for me. Obviously each word I have written is a tiny little representation of my person and self-worth.

So I send something off for review and feedback. I feel weak and nauseous and generally hate myself. Then the first few notes of review come back to me. Instantly I am transformed into my stubborn and vicious alter-ego. How dare you try to change what I've written or tell me what to do?! Are you telling me what to do?! Raaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrgh!

Let's get real. I know that this is irrational and generally not helpful. I am doing my best to let it go.

I read this post yesterday with two opposing reviews of a book. One reviewer loved the book. Another hated it. Where does this leave us? Perhaps on the cusp of some debate on the objectivity vs. subjectivity of good art.

What else? I could certainly get all avant-garde and say, Hey, if you don't get what I'm doing that's your problem. (Thanks j. for the thought). But I'm on a mission of connection. I don't really care about why everyone else does what they do. I write to fight my own loneliness and to find the human thread that brings us together.

In the meantime, my conscious choice is some attempt at detachment. Those words I wrote are just some of the things that came out of my brain. There were others up there too and more will come later. And at the end of the day, I still believe that I know good writing when I see it. That is enough to keep me going.