Why do we even have a word for perfect in the English language? It is not something that can be achieved. Tell me that something is perfect and I will be very suspicious.
But it is possible to see beauty in something that was done graciously and without fear. Love and admiration helps us see past the flaws. This is why we can admire a painting and be an awe of elegant writing.
I am feeling truly uninspired by the life of a devoted writer. Why does it seem that I am supremely judged whereas others are not? It truly feels this way in work life, home life, and the writing life. My husband will pick apart a particular way that I chose to complete a task. Why, he asks, must I do loads of laundry so slowly? Why can’t I just stand at the washing machine until the cycle beeps so that I can transfer the wet clothes into the dryer? Heaven forbid that I work on another project while the wash cycle runs.
I needn’t get so caught up in doing something else that I let the wet clothes sit for an extra thirty minutes. Why, my supervisor will ask, is there a typo in my notes? Never mind that I am a human being and did make every effort to proofread the document but didn’t have enough time to perfect before the deadline loomed so I had to get the darn thing out the door.
I spend so much time trying not to make mistakes that I end up making them anyway. This is an unfortunate fact of life; a life that I can’t help but continue to live.
Not all writers are the same. I write for meaning. I write for purpose. I write for myself and I write to inspire. The mainstream frightens me. I don’t know if I can deal with the comments, the grinding criticism, the looks of pity, or the snips of jealousy.
Maybe I should just keep this thing I love to myself. Maybe my writing is only for me…words to be cherished by a lonely soul. Mainstream writers have both critics and fans and I know that if I keep my work hidden I will have neither. My desire to reach others will be lost and packed away in a box under my bed.
The more I think about it, the more I want to share my work with others. I have to learn that not everybody will get it. Not everybody will be touched or excited by my writing. I know this is true because I sometimes find that I am turned off, disappointed, and even outraged at some of the books, references, articles that I read. Sometimes I wonder about authors and how skewed their thinking must be in order for them to write such preposterous narratives.
For example, I read through a book titled The Science of Sin by Simon M. Laham, in which Mr. Laham asserts that anger is a positive emotion and necrophilia and incest should not be viewed as morally reprehensible. He backs up many of his claims with scholarly studies that show “…from gluttony to greed, to envy and lust can make you smart, successful, and happy (p.7).”
I do not agree with Mr. Laham’s narrative although he is convincing as he intellectualizes the positive outcomes that trickle down after the explosion of negative emotion. He explores things like how being envious of another’s success, will make one work extra hard to surpass their rival, and how money can indeed provide a sense of happiness because rich people engage in leisure more frequently.
Writings such as these beg to be read and debated. It is not for everyone. And so goes my own writing. I must understand that it won’t be of good quality for every reader. Some readers will love, other will like, while others still will hate it.
This notion is sinking into my brain and allowing me to push pass the criticism and just write what’s in my heart.