Image by John Hain from Pixabay
I had planned on getting a lot further in 52 Weeks of Writing by now, but the Crazy Train got derailed this month. I've struggled to complete a 5000-word story for potential inclusion in an anthology, and that isn't like me. Fuck it, let's get down to business.
When you first started writing, how did it make you feel?
When I first started writing, I felt excited, free, happy. I was exhilarated. Writing allowed me to bring the scenarios I created in my mind to life. I felt unstoppable. With writing, the impossible became possible.
Do you still feel like that when you write? If not, what has changed?
When I try to write now, I feel lost. There are so many rules to adhere to. I have to think of what a potential audience will like rather than simply writing what I imagine.
My imagination is no longer free. Its wings have been clipped. It has been shackled and caged. The stories I want to write are not the ones that have priority. Most of the time they don't get written at all.
I haven't believed in myself since I was a young child, and even then that belief was pretty shaky. In truth, I didn't really believe in myself, I believed in certain of my abilities. But I have been told time and time again that my abilities are sub-par. There are many who are far better than me at everything and it wouldn't matter a bit if I were suddenly erased. Nobody would miss me. Certainly nobody would miss my writing. I am a joke.
For far too long I have been craving the approval of others. The unhappy child wants to be told that she's been a good girl who has done a good job.
Those of us who have been sexually abused are often chided that we should have told someone. The people saying this don't understand the power of shame. You don't want anyone to know such things were done to you. Some victims have been threatened. Sometimes the abuse is shrugged off when we try to tell or we are told that we are lying. We feel deeply ashamed of ourselves and want to be told that we aren't bad. But hearing this once isn't enough. There is a never-ending insatiable hunger for approval.
At the core, I think this is why I was drawn to horror fiction and to vampire characters in particular even when I was a child. The vampire represents uncensored need, and with its superior strength, it can exact revenge on those who harmed it in the past. Vampires are seductive and dangerous. Those who fuck with a vampire come to regret it.
By the way, I think writing programs can fuck off with their constant nit-picking about passive voice. Passive voice isn't always a bad thing. Kindly fucking go fuck yourself actively.
These posts are only lightly edited. I keep kicking around the idea of one day turning my ruminations into a book but I always end up asking myself who the fuck would read or benefit from such a book? I think I'll address the "who the hell do you think you are" question some other time.
I decided to watch Magical Mystery Tour on Odysee. This film reveals that no matter how normal he looks on the outside, Paul McCartney has a very odd imagination. (The film was primarily Paul's idea.) Honestly, I think that's a good thing.
I've always thought that it would be nice if I could look normal on the outside. I wouldn't want to be stunningly beautiful because nobody would take my ideas seriously if I was. However, I've always wished that I didn't have to be stunningly ugly, which I am. It shouldn't matter, but it does.
Here is Magical Mystery Tour in case you'd like to watch.
Here is the link in case you can't see the player.
Spirit of the Universe, I thought I was doing better about not seeking approval but the need is insidious. My approval-seeking behavior is multi-headed like a Hydra. I cannot conquer it on my own. I am broken and I am tired of trying to cobble myself back together. Please help me learn to put myself first. Please help me revive the childlike adoration I once had for my stories. Amen.
~Ornery Owl is Seeking~
Image by vishnu vijayan from Pixabay
52 Weeks of Writing
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)
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