It’s 9:30 at night, and I am eating a sandwich the size of my head. I told myself I wasn’t going to do this anymore because eating large sandwiches that are filled with sweet chilli-drenched pork right before bed gives me nightmares and the sleepy-time toots like you wouldn’t friggen believe. My poor hubs. He calls me the slumbering trumpet master.
Oh my God, we’re still so romantic after 12 years.
The thing is, I feel the need for retribution. In this case, retribution is dutch-ovening him while he slumbers, so he has weird dreams and an uncomfortable (to say the least) sleep.
The reason for my payback is this:
I received a very exciting email that may help move my career forward a tiny smidgen. I can’t go into detail on it because it’s not a done deal yet. It’s probably not that big of a deal at all, but for me, every tiny thing helps in this writing world, so I’m excited about it.
I enthusiastically told my husband about my groovy news, and he replied by saying, “Oh, well, that’ll be great for your ego.”
Ouch, man.
I think he was trying to be funny, in his defence, because I’m always talking about my big fat ego. And as soon as he saw the hurt look on my face, he changed his tune. Still, the words burnt into me, and I began thinking obsessively about whether I brag about my work and accomplishments too much.
I’ve been writing online for years — blogs, content sharing platforms, literary magazines, you name it. Before that, I worked as a columnist at our local newspaper, writing a family humour yarn called Me Plus Three, a look into the misadventures of motherhood. And before that, I wrote misanthropic poems that I would read aloud for YouTube slam poetry videos.
I’ve always been a creator. I can’t say it’s all been good, but it’s all findable if you really want to dig into the swampy monstrosity that was my coming of age period.
Throughout these years of creative ventures, there are always little blips in time when I question my abilities. Someone will tell me I misused a word in one of my articles, and my brain will go into overdrive, telling myself how stupid I am.
Or a friend of a friend will mention that “those weird poetry videos are sort of messed up that Lindsay is doing,” and upon learning this opinion, I will begin sorting out plans to relocate to that sewer drain down the road from my house because clearly, I can never show my face in public again.
I’ve always been so susceptible to criticism. It’s sad, really.
So here we are, what feels like centuries after the dawn of my creative birth, and I am still on the lookout for people who may not enjoy what I’m doing. And how do I cope with that?
I tell everyone how awesome I am.
Oh yes. I’m that person.
It always starts subtly. Someone on my Facebook writing group will ask for feedback on a story, and I’ll get all hoity-toity telling them what I would have done. Then, when one person likes that comment, I think, “YES, I AM THE CHAMPION AND THE MOST INTELLIGENT CREATIVE TO EVER WALK THIS EARTH,” and so the cycle continues.
I will nonchalantly reply to someone who suggests I check out some posted writer’s job saying, “I think that pursuing that would be a waste of my creative talent.” And then I immediately want to punch myself in the face because who the hell says things like that? It’s insane!
So my question is this, are we as creatives allowed to boast about our success? Or are we meant to publish our works but act like it was no big deal?
Like, oh yeah, it took me 30 years to craft this fantasy world in which I’ve created generations of characters complete with a plethora of races and multiple languages while developing a gripping storyline and believable points of conflict, but yeah, no biggie. I’m just glad to have experienced the ride, man.
Fuuuuuuuuck that.
The more I think about it, the more stupid I feel for feeling stupid about being proud of myself. Sure, world-building isn’t my thing but writing funny stories are. I get laughs. So why can’t I show pride in my work and accomplishments? Why does even the slightest self-praise come off as boastful and egotistical?
I know stuff. I’ve been around the block when it comes to comedy writing. Why do I feel ashamed when talking proudly about my accomplishments?
Obviously, as you’re reading this, there’s a giant neon sign flashing the word “INSECURE” on the screen, and yes, that is the problem. However, why is that the problem? Because I don’t have a diploma for creative writing under my belt? Because not everyone enjoys my often, raunchy way of joking about real-life issues? Or because, as creatives, we are supposed to be the biggest critics of our own work?
I think the real problem is a lack of support in this industry.
I’m not saying this to point fingers or be cruel to my loved ones. I get it. You can’t spend all day reading my work on the internet. That would be a massive waste of time for you.
However, choosing to delve into the online writing world has taught me something significant. It is far easier and mentally rewarding to seek out strangers on the internet, befriend them, and support their work in turn than to wait for your Facebook friends to read the stories you are churning out.
Again, I’m not saying this to be mean. I have many Facebook friends selling beeswax candles or some kind of weight loss product that’s all the new rage, and I scroll past that shit diligently because I don’t want anything to do with it.
Some people aren’t readers. That’s fair.
Until six months ago, the fact that my entire friend’s list wasn’t fawning over my hilarious articles bothered me greatly. I couldn’t understand what was so difficult about clicking on a link and reading a three-minute story. Just like my beeswax candle friends probably couldn’t understand what was so difficult about filling out an online purchase form for a three-dollar candle.
Then I stumbled upon a writing group that changed my life. We support one another’s work, giving feedback and positive reinforcements when things aren’t going well. We’ve created this little bubble of readers and writers on the net that feels like a family — a family who will probably never meet in real life.
Man, we live in strange times.
This morning I messaged one of my writing group friends, Arpad Nagy (check out his work, you won’t be disappointed!) and told him my exciting news. He replied with no hesitation that I was going to crush it. Because he’s a fellow writer, he got it. He got the excitement and how big of a deal the opportunity was.
I realize now how important finding your people is for all the different life-things.
I have my family people — my wonderful husband and beautiful children who I cannot imagine this life without.
I have my motherhood people — the women I grew up with and have known for 20 years and can share my deepest darkest secrets with.
And now, I have my writer people — a group of wordsmiths, who understand the struggles and the triumphs of this profession.
We can’t expect the people in our lives to merge effortlessly through our various interests and goals. So going out and finding those people, finding our groups, is essential for our creative well being. I used to think I could do this writing thing all on my own. Now that I’ve found my people, I can’t imagine not having them in my corner.
If you feel like you lack support in one aspect of your life, find your people — I promise, they’re out there somewhere just waiting to support you.
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Previously Published on medium
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