~~ verbose rambling on why narcissism is essential for a writer

[reenka]

    earthquake1906 was all "yeay" about my comment on liking/enjoying my own writing, and it just occurred to me... you know, if i didn't write for my own pleasure, i don't know -what- i would write for. 'cause no one's going to hold (my) hand all the time, and sometimes -no one- says -anything- and if i didn't love my own words, i would go -mad- being afraid that i suck a lot of ass. like, every single time i do well and people say, "great job, you rock", it does help, but that goes away. it goes away and with every new story i'm afraid i don't have what it takes to interest anyone all over again. there is simply no way i could write at all, if i wasn't my own number one fan. i mean, i suppose it's also that i can't help it and i write because it comes out, but if i really really thought i sucked, i don't see why i'd keep going. if i didn't love it, why would i keep wanting to inflict such self-loathing upon myself? i'm sure i would stop.

is this rare? i mean, i know from my own experience that even when people absolutely gush, it just doesn't sink in. maybe that's just me. but unless you believe it to start with, you're not going to believe it-- or maybe there are people who are more susceptible to others' opinions, maybe. i'm not one of those people. others' opinions -matter-, but they don't -change- me.

you hear about it when it comes to characters-- that writers are in love with their own characters. and i suppose i am-- i'm in love with them too-- but even so, i'm in love with the way i see them, the way they come out. i -want- to be true to my "real" vision, i want to write as well as i possibly could. and i suppose on a bad day, i'd say that's because presently, i think i suck. but on a good day, it's just because i want more of a good thing. writing isn't really something you could reliably market-test, and yet it's hard not to think every comment counts as a positive vote and you need some threshold (5 comments, 15 comments, 1 rec and 10 comments, 20 comments-- i've never had 20 comments, does that mean i'm not as good as any person who does?).

anyway, i'm just guessing that (hopefully) we all love our own writing. some of it's better than other parts, but overall, the only person who's going to be a reliable audience to satisfy is yourself, and if you can't satisfy yourself, who -can- you satisfy? people call a lot of fanfiction "masturbatory fiction"-- and really, there's some truth to that. and what good is masturbation without pleasure? you don't have to orgasm every time, i guess, but if you get give yourself the tingles, you're really not doing it right, are you?
    . . .i'm not saying self-love is the be-all and end-all. i'm just saying it's like a life-support system. the ultimate goal is to touch someone else, to make someone else shiver with pleasure or pain or whatever through your work, to make someone think and feel. but you can't depend on that. you can't guarantee you will know-- lots of people are touched and say nothing. they don't feel the need to touch you back. maybe they think it sucks or maybe they're too busy or maybe they haven't even read it or maybe they don't know what to say or maybe they can't express themselves well know to say anything. all you can know is, this is what's inside you, and you better get used to loving it 'cause no one is ever really going to love it -for- you.

if you think of yourself as a writer (as i do), you're stuck with this style of yours, this mind of yours. you can change the resulting writing, but your relatioship with it will most likely stay stable. one day they'll be swooning all over you and the next they will seemingly forget you even existed (though this is a huge exaggerration of my own experience). audiences are so fickle.
    i know there are two camps here: people who say they -hate- the process of writing, hate the -effort-, hate the blank page, dislike editing, dislike the strain of choosing the right word-- and then there are people who love it (like me). i'm rather sorry for the former sort. what a horrible life that is!

in particular, take the silly thing i posted in the middle of the night last night. it gave me pleasure to write it-- i enjoyed it and i was nervous to see if it was just me who found it fun to read as well as write. did i manage to share my pleasure? and in the end, i did get two wonderful comments (which means my wibbling is minimal), but my lasting impression is, "well, i had fun doing that, maybe i should do more". i hadn't written in a week or two, and i was missing writing. i was missing the pleasure, the rush of it, the amazement i feel that i can construct pretty things. it makes me feel better about myself. i feel less like a total dork. i think i'm one of those people whom i admire so-- and it's just like afterglow. in the heady rush right after having written it, i don't need anyone to -allow- me to feel pleasure by complimenting me. i just feel it-- i feel happy. i've gotten what i wanted-- i've written it.

validation is very important, but i can live without it. what i -can't- live without is that basic pleasure in the process. i need to trust myself-- trust my enjoyment of my writing, the seriousness of my relationship with it, my judgement of it in general.

i see other writers i completely adore (probably semi-jokingly) exclaim that they feel like giving up the pen at the glorious writing of their friends. i feel that. my own sensitivity to writing in general is a double-edged sword. it means i can enjoy my own writing (having the sensitivity of a reader), as well as, naturally, swoon over others'. and truthfully, i could never adore my own work like i can theirs. i don't know what they'd missed as intimately, i don't know what they could've done better, where they didn't quite express what they wanted, where they cheated and used default imagery, where they were just bullshitting. it's always much more fresh and new and startling to someone else. so i mean, it's definitely an effort-- here you are, and you worship these other people's writing, how do you still manage to love your own without resorting to letting other people love it for you?

it's all in the process. the love comes back as soon as you write again. it's funny that way. as soon as you let it in, it swamps everything and suddenly you realize why you fell in love to begin with. because there are just all these pretty things in your mind, and in a way you pick them up off the ground and keep them, like pretty stones. someday, someday it'll be easy, and i'll love others' work as much as i want to, and it will only add and never subtract anything from myself. for now, i trust the dependable rush of pleasure that writing gives me, so different and yet so close to reading. i am addicted, i am totally possessed by it. hm. maybe that's why i'm so verbose, i don't know ><

Comments

[lasultrix.livejournal.com]

Ah, but Duncan and Methos wouldn't stop at kissing. ;)

If the plot's different, the language will necessarily be different, won't it? It will be unique, and thus hard to compare.

It's 5:41am. I have already had two mugs of tea with two teabags each in. My exam is in 8 hours and 19 minutes. *PANIC*

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

awww. *soothes*
you can do it. if anything, you can always skim and skip and it's amazing how much better one remembers things when one's desperately trolling for facts. that, or forgets everything completely >.<;; i've -had- my exam (though not my final). so right now i'm like, "i have to do -moooore- work, but waaah i think my brain is fried". if brain fries, unwind and think about something else for 10-15 minutes. either that, or accept that this is hell but at least by this time tomorrow, it'll all be over~:)

and well, yes, they'd do more than kiss. i was trying to encourage you to take baby steps ;)
*laughs*

[lasultrix.livejournal.com]

Wah. It's Maths. I can't bullshit in Maths. And I'm really damn good at bullshitting, too. God, I remember my Irish Lit exam.

Ritheann rithim sonanta ceolmhar tríd an dán, agus cruthaíonn sé sin mothúcháin síochána agus áthais in intinn an léitheora.

Random poetic commentary on rhythm that works frickin' wonders in Irish Leaving Cert exams. I just made that one up on the spot for demonstration purposes, but it'd probably work for any happy poem. (seeing as most LC poems are sad, not so much, but hey.) The charm is that the structure of the answer makes it seem like I'm a native speaker.

A pleasant musical rhythm runs through the poem, and this creates feelings of peace and happiness in the mind of the reader.

But um. I cannot bullshit cubic equations, finite extension fields, and fucking solvability by radicals.

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

*meeps*
*feels your pain*
even -seeing- the -words- "solvability by radicals" makes my brain hurt. *laughs*
usually i don't bother cramming for math tests. either i've learned it sometime during the time i was in class, or it's pointless to force my brain to expand that much that quickly -.-
best thing with math (to me) is to just get enough sleep and stretch your brain a little so it's more willing to work in that precise way that's rather unnatural (for me).

although it could be different for people who are not me~:)

[lasultrix.livejournal.com]

And doubtless if I had attended the lectures I would have done exactly that. As it is, I'm trying to learn the syllabus from scratch in one morning. *kills self*

I misspelled 'soineanta'. So sad.

[yourpoison.livejournal.com]

*hugs you*
I AM NOT ALONE!!! ahahahaah. ahem.
<-- hysterical
i am so with you in that boat.
because man oh man, i haven't gone to lectures much in my psych class. *sigh*
ahahaha. so i'm sort if the same position (though i have more time). 700 pages, man. 700 pages.

a-yup. -.-

[lasultrix.livejournal.com]

You should go to bed. It's 3am where you are, right?

God, I hate where I am in college. To think I used to get mad at myself for not getting A1s. I wish I'd just dropped out and reapplied when I knew I wanted to change course.

But no. Instead, I'm just failing first year. Much better. I'm only missing so many lectures because I know they wouldn't help anyway.

8am. I have to get offline.