It always feels like... Somebody's WATCHIN' MEEEEE
And I have no privacy...
It's interesting. Applying for the Amtrak writers residency has tested my sense of privacy. There's a part of me that FAR, FAR prefers to stay small and under the radar. That part of me is OK with people reading my stuff, but prefers not to think about it too much. It's uncomfortable with praise, and suspicious of it.
The other part of me is pretty convinced that my destiny (said with heavy emphasis on DES, and trailing emphasis on tiny, ending with a long yyyyy)(just because) is to be a well known, beloved writer. Not an author. I don't have many fiction stories rolling around in my head. But a writer. Someone who uses words to capture moments in time and presents them to the word in a such a way that every brain on the surface of this planet can read them and find themselves inside the structure.
The two parts of me are unbalanced (SHOCKING, I know). They're both coming from a relatively unhealthy part of me. Fear of and absolute need for praise and acceptance. Where could that come from?? Huh. Talk about universal human experiences...
And at this point, I'm keeping my work sharply segregated, to preserve a sense of control of information. I don't know if I like that I'm doing it, but it's making me feel safe for now. We'll see if it continues to be necessary.
It's interesting. Applying for the Amtrak writers residency has tested my sense of privacy. There's a part of me that FAR, FAR prefers to stay small and under the radar. That part of me is OK with people reading my stuff, but prefers not to think about it too much. It's uncomfortable with praise, and suspicious of it.
The other part of me is pretty convinced that my destiny (said with heavy emphasis on DES, and trailing emphasis on tiny, ending with a long yyyyy)(just because) is to be a well known, beloved writer. Not an author. I don't have many fiction stories rolling around in my head. But a writer. Someone who uses words to capture moments in time and presents them to the word in a such a way that every brain on the surface of this planet can read them and find themselves inside the structure.
The two parts of me are unbalanced (SHOCKING, I know). They're both coming from a relatively unhealthy part of me. Fear of and absolute need for praise and acceptance. Where could that come from?? Huh. Talk about universal human experiences...
And at this point, I'm keeping my work sharply segregated, to preserve a sense of control of information. I don't know if I like that I'm doing it, but it's making me feel safe for now. We'll see if it continues to be necessary.
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