Apologies for the lateness of the post. I have just had a very long (near as makes no difference to 12 hours) shift. It was an eventful one as well, so I didn’t really get to write much.
I had a conversation with a friend last night about what it takes to put yourself out there. She’s a dancer, and has an audition coming up that could set her on the path to her dream career. Similarly, I have submitted a few short storied to publishers, which could be the stepping stone to being a professional writer.
The two situations are nothing like each other, of course, except for one thing: Both require submitting your talents to someone else for evaluation. This makes both terrifying.
I’ve never auditioned for a dancing position on a cruise line, of course. Given my friend’s reaction to hers however I have it on good authority that it has the same or greater effect on anxiety as submitting a short story for publication. In the interest of fairness I will point out that it is probably far worse because she can only go to one audition at a time, whereas I can submit multiple stories for publication at once.
It did lead me to wonder why professional scrutiny is so emotionally difficult. Unlike many (or even most) of the people I know, I have no problem speaking in public.I jumped in to doing a podcast with both feet, and without a second thought. I don’t really even have problems letting others read the things that I write, as evidenced by the fact they you are reading this now.
It’s something entirely different when you are exposing yourself to someone who is the gateway to you doing what you love for money. At least for me (and my friend) it is an entirely different experience. Suddenly I find myself second guessing every choice I’ve ever made. Even simple things like pacing and word choice suddenly seem like mistakes.
There isn’t really a cure I know for this. Rather, there is one but it is something I need to develop rather than something I was born with. Professionals at writing, or dancing, or comedy, or very nearly anything else need to have a certain sense of ego.
When we speak about these sorts of things we call it “confidence”, but it really does have to come down to ego. I need to feel that I am, in fact, better at what I want to do than the people who are already doing it. I need to know in my heart that I am good enough that someone wants to enjoy something that I create.
It isn’t an easy transition. I find myself constantly checking the visitation statistics for this website. Sometimes I see the traffic numbers as a reflection of my worth as a writer. I should just ignore them entirely, or maybe use them as an incentive to promote myself more.
I’ve decided to adopt a new tactic. Every time I send in a story, and think of all the authors who’s work I dearly love, and think of how unworthy I am to follow in their shoes, I’m going to stop. Instead I’m going to think of every bad movie that I’ve seen. I’m going to think of every story I’ve ever read that didn’t live up to my expectations. I’m going to think of every author who’s work I found distasteful and remind myself that I can, in fact, do better than that. I’m going to remind myself that somewhere along the line someone gave them a shot too, and that if I think my stories are better than there’s I should expect to get at least as much of a chance as they had.
I don’t really know if that’s going to work. Time will tell of course, but I’m optimistic. I’m not really an easy critic to please when it comes to storytelling. Hopefully I’m a sterner crtitic than those people I want to get paid by.
I had a conversation with a friend last night about what it takes to put yourself out there. She’s a dancer, and has an audition coming up that could set her on the path to her dream career. Similarly, I have submitted a few short storied to publishers, which could be the stepping stone to being a professional writer.
The two situations are nothing like each other, of course, except for one thing: Both require submitting your talents to someone else for evaluation. This makes both terrifying.
I’ve never auditioned for a dancing position on a cruise line, of course. Given my friend’s reaction to hers however I have it on good authority that it has the same or greater effect on anxiety as submitting a short story for publication. In the interest of fairness I will point out that it is probably far worse because she can only go to one audition at a time, whereas I can submit multiple stories for publication at once.
It did lead me to wonder why professional scrutiny is so emotionally difficult. Unlike many (or even most) of the people I know, I have no problem speaking in public.I jumped in to doing a podcast with both feet, and without a second thought. I don’t really even have problems letting others read the things that I write, as evidenced by the fact they you are reading this now.
It’s something entirely different when you are exposing yourself to someone who is the gateway to you doing what you love for money. At least for me (and my friend) it is an entirely different experience. Suddenly I find myself second guessing every choice I’ve ever made. Even simple things like pacing and word choice suddenly seem like mistakes.
There isn’t really a cure I know for this. Rather, there is one but it is something I need to develop rather than something I was born with. Professionals at writing, or dancing, or comedy, or very nearly anything else need to have a certain sense of ego.
When we speak about these sorts of things we call it “confidence”, but it really does have to come down to ego. I need to feel that I am, in fact, better at what I want to do than the people who are already doing it. I need to know in my heart that I am good enough that someone wants to enjoy something that I create.
It isn’t an easy transition. I find myself constantly checking the visitation statistics for this website. Sometimes I see the traffic numbers as a reflection of my worth as a writer. I should just ignore them entirely, or maybe use them as an incentive to promote myself more.
I’ve decided to adopt a new tactic. Every time I send in a story, and think of all the authors who’s work I dearly love, and think of how unworthy I am to follow in their shoes, I’m going to stop. Instead I’m going to think of every bad movie that I’ve seen. I’m going to think of every story I’ve ever read that didn’t live up to my expectations. I’m going to think of every author who’s work I found distasteful and remind myself that I can, in fact, do better than that. I’m going to remind myself that somewhere along the line someone gave them a shot too, and that if I think my stories are better than there’s I should expect to get at least as much of a chance as they had.
I don’t really know if that’s going to work. Time will tell of course, but I’m optimistic. I’m not really an easy critic to please when it comes to storytelling. Hopefully I’m a sterner crtitic than those people I want to get paid by.
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