You know what just occurred to me?

[seabird78]

That angry whopper entry from a couple days ago was something I wrote because I felt like it was a story that couldn't go without being told. It was so good it needed to be shared, and as I pounded it out I didn't concern myself so much with my ability to craft it, because I knew that even if the word choices and pacing and imagery and stuff wasn't absolutely perfect, there was still something of value in the story's content, something people might find uplifting or even entertaining.

If only I had this same feeling about the wrestling novel, maybe I wouldn't be laboring over it so meticulously. Maybe I'd be a helluva lot closer to done by now. But I don't. I mean, on good days I know I have a compelling concept, and I absolutely love my main characters, but even then I still question whether anyone aside from me is gonna give a shit, and wondering this makes it hard to take the risks needed to get the missing bits of the story down on paper.

I want my work to matter to people, you know? Not that I need ridiculous fame and fortune, but I want to touch people the same way some of my favorite stories have touched me.

Seeing the success of The Wrestler makes me a little more confident that this is possible, but the constant fear of irrelevance, of being misunderstood, of being dismissed or outright rejected because of my subject matter still lingers.

I try to power through it as best as I can, and I even finished chapter four to the best of my abilities this afternoon, but I'm still struggling to find the sense of urgency I need to tell this story -- that intangible faith that I've got something within me that's worth sharing.

These are the things that run through my mind when I'm exhausted and home alone on a Friday night.

Comments

[acdntlpoet.livejournal.com]

So take a note from your most recent entry: try not to care what others think. (I know pot/kettle thing here since I care A LOT, but don't let the message be warped by the messenger.) I have a distinct feeling if you let go and just write what YOU are compelled and driven to write, then what comes out WILL be something worthwhile.

[seabird78.livejournal.com]

You're probably right. Thanks for your encouragement, it means a lot and is not warped in the slightest!

[mdatl.livejournal.com]

Last week I read some of my poems at our faculty development day and received high compliments from a librarian friend of mine who works at another campus; he praised me for my concrete imagery and clear language. And I value compliments like that over any others, compliments by people who are simply moved in whatever way.

Another long-ago example from undergrad days is when my roommate found a copy of a story I'd turned in for a fiction class, and he said he kept reading and had to keep reading, that he couldn't put it down. That meant more to me than any "official" compliment.

[seabird78.livejournal.com]

Yeah, it's great to feel like you're connecting with others through your work, and to know that it's stirred up any kind of reaction. Moments like that are when I am the most satisfied, because that's when I feel the strongest sense of purpose, like this whole word habit of mine isn't for naught.

Just recently a girl who works with Mike mentioned to him that she read the short story I published in my school's annual literary anthology and really loved it. What really touched me about this was the fact that the volume my story appeared in came out several years ago, and she still remembered it despite not having read it since it came out.