Life is short, obviously shorter for some people than others, unforgiving in many ways too. I have a wife who is an avid reader…an editor also…and who often refuses to read my work. A long time ago she decided she didn’t like the way I wrote, she preferred other styles, and, rather than hurt my feelings, decided she wouldn’t get involved in my writing. I also have a sense she didn’t think that I was very good, though she hasn’t said that.
People have come in and out of my life while I know their impression of me hasn’t change since the day they first met me. Some were very critical and criticized me, mostly privately, primarily by not supporting me. Perhaps they were afraid of how I would feel if they told me how they really felt, but more importantly to me and more devastating is the fact that more than likely their opinion hasn’t changed. In essence they hadn’t given me a chance to fail or hadn’t taken into account that I would change and grow. I suppose this shouldn’t have surprised me or hurt me. And the way I’ve grown, the way I feel I’ve improved (no one knows more about this than I do), all of those people who refuse to now take a second look at me, in my opinion, have lost out. I’d have to think that or else (other than for personal satisfaction) why continue?
And too soon I could lose my ability to type or lose my cognitive ability. Therefore if I don’t give myself a chance now…the chance other people won’t give me (forgiveness for failure), then as a writer I will not have much to leave my grandchildren. As I said at the beginning, life is short, too short in my opinion to worry about what other people think, or whether I dot every “I” or not (damn the computer: it won’t allow me to put a little “I” here). Oh well. Yes, I can shrug it all off.
Yes, I can feel secure in my skin and accept where I am as a writer. Sure I may not be as good as so and so; and there’s no way that I can be. As much as I may look up to other writers, it doesn’t make me less of one. Nor does it diminish who I am. (That doesn’t mean I should excuse sloppy work. I should always do my best, and if my best is not good enough, oh well, hell. (I liked how the word “hell” sounded in this context.) Now my getting out of bed most nights and sitting down in front of my computer to write this blog helps me retain my confidence. I know each time I could fail, and know with failure that I lose readers (or playgoers) forever. And ever. And ever. Amen. But now, even with this perspective, I have come to point where I can say with confidence “to hell with them.”
Having gotten this out of my system, I should say it’s still a risk to blog. So I have to stiffen my resolve as much as possible; my back hurts from all the hours I spend in front of a computer. My eyesight is worse because of it; my spine is curved, as I age. So I plow on, having learned to savor the kudos when I get them.
Good night, Randy Ford
2 Comments
September 29, 2008 at 8:04 am
Who was it that said if you wake up every morning and dance you’re a dancer . . . perhaps Maya Angelou? I always say if I wake up and write each day I’m a writer. At the Wrangling conference, one of the workshop leaders asked what we needed to feel successful. Pretty hard to force myself beyond my mantra – wake up every day and write. Thanks for the conversation. Good night, Susan
September 30, 2008 at 7:24 pm
Yes, you made an impression on me. Thanks for the encouragement. I think we all need that. Does your writing wake you up? Mine does most of the time. Stay in touch. Randy