creative frustrations

[queenofstars]

Someone in my reading list whose work I worship, challenged in a locked post the writers in her reading list to write her a story in a specific setting. I know for a fact I wasn't among the challenged but an image I had in my mind this last week came into focus, obtaining texture, space and light and, oh dear god... I began writing.

Problem now is that three and a half days later, the little monster has outgrown the one and a half page I thought it would be, pushing three and still going, and it's scaring the shit out of me. I've never written anything that long and it comes easily enough --close to a page a day-- that I'm beginning to suspect it will be the worst crap I've ever come up with when I'm done writing. I'm trying to reassure myself that it is because of all those images I've been holding inside finally finding an outlet, but clearly it's not working. Writing doesn't come natural to me, never has; I have to slave and bleed for it and that's a concrete fact I had to come to terms with a long time ago. And that's where I panic.

Why can't I be happy that, even if the outcome is not up to the requestor's expectations, for the first time I'm writing something with a beginning, a middle and an end? A story that I know in advance how it's going to play out and why? Why am I beating myself for finally having an inspiration and running with it?

::pulls hair in frustration::

Comments

[elayna88.livejournal.com]

Yes why are you? Write and love your writing, it's the most glorious satisfying feeling in the world. And don't worry about whether you've satisfied the original request. If the person you admire is really worthy of being admired as a person, she'll be thrilled that you had joy in creating, not peevish that it didn't match her precise criteria. And I can't believe it'll be crap if you're feeling that inspired. You go girl!

is this what writers call 'meta'?

[queenofstars.livejournal.com]

Oh sweet Force, is that what I said? My use of the language is worse that I thought then. ::hides face:: Thing is, I'm not as worried that I won't please her as I'm scared I won't be good enough for me; my taste, my standards, you know? A sense of 'what the hell gives me the right to judge the work of others when I can't tell what my writing's worth?' From her rec's of other writers' stories I can tell our taste in Stargate is similar and I guess that's why --subconsciously-- I was comparing my standards to hers. If I like what I wrote and she don't, I'm throwing away my keyboard and that's it. I trust her judgement better than mine.

I wish I could trust those who will read it to be honest in their reaction. People on the net are tip-toeing around each other, patting each other's backs, 'oh , that was soooo good' even when it's just hot air. I don't want to be pampered, I don't want my feelings spared, I don't want to be lied to. If it stinks, for the love of Jack, say it! Lying to me won't help me get better, it will only turn me into another Marcia or Pepe or Biblio; blowing air out of my @$$ and people telling me it smells like roses. And after 7 years into fandom, for the first time I realise that this fear is what has kept me all these years from finishing anything.

Fandom's lack of honesty.

Damn.

I will finish this even if it kills me.

What you said about writing being the most glorious satisfying feeling in the world? I couldn't have said better myself. It's better than any crack the world can come up with; better than chocolate; better than coffee; better than sex. For almost a week now I'm flying and I don't want my feet to touch the ground ever again. =) Hooooeeee!

Thank you for the vote of confidence, I didn't even know I needed it. You've given me a lot to think about these past few days. And t'is good to see you're still around here. =)