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So. A few weeks ago, I bought myself Assassin's Creed 2. And promptly shut myself in the basement for a week until I'd beaten it and boggled over the wtfuckery of the ending, and then began filling out kinkmeme prompts like a madwoman. (This is not actually why I'm not getting an A in politics this semester, I swear.) I haven't written anything complete since late November; I haven't written anything since shutting down my wordpress blog in February.
There is a small part of me- probably some piece left over from adolescence when I thought about pursuing a degree in creative writing- that still thinks of myself as a writer. The rest of me has been struggling a lot with claiming that identity. Writers write, after all, and I have stories churning constantly in my head, but few of them ever escape the vortex of my brain. Suddenly finding myself able to spit words onto a page- even if it's "just" fanfiction, even if it's "just" kinkmeme smut- feels a lot like slipping on a favorite pair of jeans that have been languishing in the back of the closet for months because of that really unfortunate weight fluctuation a year ago and hey, look at that! They fit again. And they look awesome.
Of course, the primary reason I am able to do this- to write and post- is because I can do it anonymously. I've been deeply ashamed of my writing for my entire adult life, more or less; I might constantly have these stories in my head, but I always feel like I should keep them there. I think there was a time when I was twelve, with a sparkly little Geocities website full of randomly colored text on a black background and animated gifs, when I didn't mind pointing to my work and saying "Look! Look at this! I made it! Me!" The fact that no one was looking didn't really matter- or maybe it did. Maybe that was the point. I could be proud of what I was doing because there was no one to tell me otherwise. I didn't care about feedback; I was writing and creating things, and I loved the strange and silly little worlds living in my head and on my computer screen, and that was enough.
Having an audience changed that, particularly when that audience included people I knew personally, whose opinions I cared about. It was no longer enough for me to love my writing; if I didn't get external validation, the shame would kick in. (This is a gross simplification of what was really a years-long self destructive process, but that's not really relevant at this point.) As a result, the thought of putting my writing out there where people can see it is intensely difficult for me. Asking for feedback is nearly impossible; situations with mandatory reciprocal feedback (peer review for class, for example) make me physically ill. This is also tied into my deepseated reluctance to revisit academic papers- once I've written an essay, I usually feel so disgusted with it that I can't look at it again. This makes editing rough drafts a bit difficult, to put it mildly.
Frankly, this is nonsense, and I am sick of it. I am a decent writer, both academically and creatively- I know this. And I know I could be even better if I were less afraid of my own words. Right now, anonymity is helping me to bypass a lot of my shame reflex, and that's been awesome- baby steps are still forward movement. And baby steps will lead to bigger steps, like actually putting my name (well, pseudonym, but whatever) on things. Maybe someday I'll be able to go up to someone and say, "Hey, could you maybe look this over for me and tell me what you think" without having to sit in a corner and quietly panic for an hour beforehand. *sigh*
To that end, a resolution: I'm going to use this journal to post fanfiction, and eventually original writing. And I am not going to apologize for it, because Dreamwidth is working on that "filter by tag" thing, and if people don't want to read it, or acknowledge that it exists, they don't have to. This space is mine, and I keep it for myself; if I want to use it to archive the amputation fetish smut I've been writing for Assassin's Creed, or my essay on structures of authority in Kecia Ali's Sexual Ethics and Islam, or pieces of that paranormal gay YA romance that has been living in the back of my head since I started working retail, then I'm not going to let anything stop me.
Speaking of that essay on Sexual Ethics and Islam, I should probably get back to work on it, as it's due tomorrow evening and I have work tomorrow morning. >.> Once these two responses/essays for my Gender and Sexuality class are done, I am finished with finals! And then I can sleep, except for the part where I have to get up to go to work at 7:30 for the next three days.
There is a small part of me- probably some piece left over from adolescence when I thought about pursuing a degree in creative writing- that still thinks of myself as a writer. The rest of me has been struggling a lot with claiming that identity. Writers write, after all, and I have stories churning constantly in my head, but few of them ever escape the vortex of my brain. Suddenly finding myself able to spit words onto a page- even if it's "just" fanfiction, even if it's "just" kinkmeme smut- feels a lot like slipping on a favorite pair of jeans that have been languishing in the back of the closet for months because of that really unfortunate weight fluctuation a year ago and hey, look at that! They fit again. And they look awesome.
Of course, the primary reason I am able to do this- to write and post- is because I can do it anonymously. I've been deeply ashamed of my writing for my entire adult life, more or less; I might constantly have these stories in my head, but I always feel like I should keep them there. I think there was a time when I was twelve, with a sparkly little Geocities website full of randomly colored text on a black background and animated gifs, when I didn't mind pointing to my work and saying "Look! Look at this! I made it! Me!" The fact that no one was looking didn't really matter- or maybe it did. Maybe that was the point. I could be proud of what I was doing because there was no one to tell me otherwise. I didn't care about feedback; I was writing and creating things, and I loved the strange and silly little worlds living in my head and on my computer screen, and that was enough.
Having an audience changed that, particularly when that audience included people I knew personally, whose opinions I cared about. It was no longer enough for me to love my writing; if I didn't get external validation, the shame would kick in. (This is a gross simplification of what was really a years-long self destructive process, but that's not really relevant at this point.) As a result, the thought of putting my writing out there where people can see it is intensely difficult for me. Asking for feedback is nearly impossible; situations with mandatory reciprocal feedback (peer review for class, for example) make me physically ill. This is also tied into my deepseated reluctance to revisit academic papers- once I've written an essay, I usually feel so disgusted with it that I can't look at it again. This makes editing rough drafts a bit difficult, to put it mildly.
Frankly, this is nonsense, and I am sick of it. I am a decent writer, both academically and creatively- I know this. And I know I could be even better if I were less afraid of my own words. Right now, anonymity is helping me to bypass a lot of my shame reflex, and that's been awesome- baby steps are still forward movement. And baby steps will lead to bigger steps, like actually putting my name (well, pseudonym, but whatever) on things. Maybe someday I'll be able to go up to someone and say, "Hey, could you maybe look this over for me and tell me what you think" without having to sit in a corner and quietly panic for an hour beforehand. *sigh*
To that end, a resolution: I'm going to use this journal to post fanfiction, and eventually original writing. And I am not going to apologize for it, because Dreamwidth is working on that "filter by tag" thing, and if people don't want to read it, or acknowledge that it exists, they don't have to. This space is mine, and I keep it for myself; if I want to use it to archive the amputation fetish smut I've been writing for Assassin's Creed, or my essay on structures of authority in Kecia Ali's Sexual Ethics and Islam, or pieces of that paranormal gay YA romance that has been living in the back of my head since I started working retail, then I'm not going to let anything stop me.
Speaking of that essay on Sexual Ethics and Islam, I should probably get back to work on it, as it's due tomorrow evening and I have work tomorrow morning. >.> Once these two responses/essays for my Gender and Sexuality class are done, I am finished with finals! And then I can sleep, except for the part where I have to get up to go to work at 7:30 for the next three days.
without adding or exacerbating or what have you
Eeee, this sounds like fun.
And huzzah that the anonmemes gave you writing space again!
I look forward to seeing you around after finals.