I Took a Risk

Sometimes when I think about the fact that almost 60 people have my novel, it becomes hard for me to breathe.  When people tell me they’re reading it, I have no idea what to say, because it’s so cool to think that people are reading my writing, but it also makes me incredibly uncomfortable.  It’s just that I quite like people thinking I’m smart and talented and I have no perspective on the novel, but I think it’s pretty bad.  And I told myself I wasn’t going to say that again, because I hate to give disclaimers, but it is how I feel and not just an effort to save face.

With the way I talk about it, I know the obvious question is, “Why did you ask people to read it?”  The real reason was that I was ready to take a risk, but the reason I will ascribe to it now is that I’m ready to get over needing people to think I’m perfect.  I think it’s pretty cool that I wrote a novel, even if it sucks, and I want to do it again, so anything I can do to lower the stupidly high bar in my head is worth it if it makes writing any less intimidating.

Knowing my fiction is out there also motivates me to keep writing, because I think, “I can do better than that.”  Which brings me to the new novel, which I haven’t been making as much progress on as the Creativity Challenge really demands.  I’ve been taking more notes than actually writing scenes.  I’ve had some trouble figuring out the main character, because for a while she was too much like me and then she became me on crack mixed with Daria Morgendorffer. Now she’s back to being pretty normal instead of an anti-social, unfeeling crazy person.

I was having a hard time finding my way into the story, even though I do already have quite a bit written.  I’m still lacking plot points.  But then yesterday, I just started writing conversations between characters, apart from any scenes they might be attached to, and it felt so nice just to be writing even if I’m not sure exactly where I’m going.  Plus, it’s fun to put things you’ve been thinking about into the mouths of characters.

It’s kind of strange writing about people in grad school, because sometimes I feel this pressure to represent it in a certain way.  Not really out of any personal stake I have in what people think of it, but just because I live it and should know.  In truth I do know a lot about grad school and it’s not all exactly as you would think (though I’ve been here too long to really know what people think anymore and it probably takes a grad school ego to think other people even care that much), but I don’t like to write in that way where one person represents this group of people and another this group of people, so we get a perfect mix and balance.  Seems quite dull.

This post has now reached the point where I must admit to feeling like an idiot sometimes when I’m writing about writing.  It’s like I feel stupid for taking it all so seriously, but the reason I feel stupid is because I have a problem taking myself seriously.  I don’t know what it is, because it doesn’t feel pretentious or silly.  I guess it feels self-important, but what doesn’t?  I guess that was also part of the challenge for me: learn to talk seriously about what you do with other people who do things.  Sideline sitting and preparing but never starting are easier, but maybe risks aren’t that scary even if they sometimes make breathing difficult.