A profound number of up-and-coming writers enjoy gushing over their groundbreaking, life changing, can’t-believe-I’m-so-awesome work in progress, talking your ear off and displaying their masterpiece all over the internet before they even have a pot to piss in. I suppose that’s understandable; it takes a lot of devotion and persistence to produce something people will actually spend their hard-earned money on.
Writers are proud parents. They have no doubt spent many a sleepless night agonizing over their manuscript, nurturing it, watching it grow, hoping one day they will get to see their little darling grow up and be sent off into the big bad world and yet dreading that day at the same time. Countless hours have passed annoying their husband/wife/children/parents with questions about this or that and toiling away in their own little worlds, only coming out to seek encouragement or recognition, their needy little egos demanding a tiny boost of self-esteem.
Other writers, like me, abhor the thought of sharing even the slightest bit of information until they have at least a completed first draft under their belt. It’s that fear of rejection thing I talked about in a past post. There’s something so personal about writing, about sharing what you have written with the rest of the world, that makes one want to keep it wrapped up, tightly secured in a box tied with a nifty little ribbon, tucked away in the dark recesses of the mind. I can’t stand the thought of divulging the inner workings of my manuscript until it’s been perfected, crafted into the sublime piece of fiction that it will one day become.
I’m no different from the rest when it comes to being selfish or needy. Perhaps I’m a little bit of both. I can’t help but want others to share the excitement and novelty that comes with producing a fantastic piece of literature.
So in the interest of all you nosy-rosies out there, I am feeling compelled to dig around in the dark recesses of my mind, pull out the box with the nifty little ribbon, untie that sucker, and hope like hell you all don’t hate it. I may or may not be feeling a little needy at the moment.
On second thought, nevermind. I’ve decided I’m feeling selfish instead. I’m going to keep it a secret just a little while longer. Don’t hate me for that either. K, thanks.