Why I don’t share my writing
So far, my written work is a series of unpublished drafts.
I wrote this post over two weeks ago and left it in drafts, just like the drafts on the notes app on my phone and the ones on my laptop. Usually, I spend hours writing when I get inspiration from reading some book or an article or just musing about life in general and then I just save them in drafts. I’m always working on something or editing something I’ve written because sharing is something that has become too big a feat.
This isn’t only because of the reasons which are common to most writers — the sense of inadequacy of skill, of the inability to garner response and the need for approval from others regarding our work. I also struggle with the aforementioned; I have at many points upon sharing, thought that anyone who read my words would toss them aside and mutter to themselves:
‘ She shouldn’t give up her day job because she is no writer…’
And that would be enough to tell myself that I need more editing which would lead to me never sharing whatever it is I wrote.
This reluctance to share began in my first year at university studying Creative and Professional writing. I received feedback from my lecturer on a short story I wrote for my final piece saying that she thought I was a competent writer. I remember checking the meaning of competent to find out that it meant that I was adequate. In essence, she said my writing was meh.
That critique affected me for the rest of my time at university. Every time I submitted a piece, I could hear the words ‘competent writer’ in my mind. It made me second guess everything I wrote. I spent many nights hesitating before submitting my work a few minutes before the deadline.
It only got worse by the second year.
We had workshops and critique circles where we would critique each other’s pieces and discuss ways to improve them. I dreaded them; I would walk into my workshop with my heart thumping in my chest, waiting tentatively for my turn, when others would critique my piece. Prior to any workshop, students would have been expected to read up on fellow students work and make personal notes to be shared on the day of the workshop. I did the work but I admit it was always half-baked. I didn’t take the time to write, submitting some lazy attempt at some short story I managed to concoct at 3am in the morning. So, when it was time to receive the feedback, I hung my head low in shame.
At the time, I thought that I would learn a lesson about being better prepared or spending more time on my writing. I was already giving up on the fight against competency.
But what happened at that workshop and the ones that followed was not what I expected.
I received good feedback from my peers and my lecturer regarding my half-baked writing. Sure, there were minor critiques as every piece always has the potential for improvement. It was at this point that I knew that I might have some talent with this writing gig and all I needed to do was to keep spending time writing, sharing it then improving it using the feedback provided and it would be good. But I didn’t. Even though, these experiences proved that I had the potential to be good.
Even when, the lecturer that critiqued me in my first year now referred to me as a good writer. I was still scared of sharing my work.
This was because, as time went on, a new fear had begun to emerge. I thought:
What if I’m actually good? What then?
I don’t want to be vulnerable/be seen
I’m predominantly a life writer which means I mine a lot of what I write from life and my experiences with others.
If I’m actually good or close to being good at this, it means that more people might have access to me through reading my work. I’m scared that they will actually see what goes on inside my mind — a place that I alone have access to and decide who to let in. What if they encounter something wild? what if they misunderstand me? I can no longer hide under the cloak of invisibility that not sharing my writing has provided me. I will be seen, flaws and all and that has always made me uncomfortable.
I have to maintain the standard of being good.
The more people read what I write, the more they might want to read. That’s a load of pressure I just don’t want to deal with.
When you discover a good book, naturally you want to read more of the author’s work and you might expect it to be of the same calibre.
It may be easier to share that first post, that first article or memoir etc. but there is an expectation that everything written after that should also be good.
Not sharing my writing means that I don’t have to live up to any expectations, mine or anyone else’s. It means that I’m free from unnecessary stress and —yet still saturated with fear.
So, why share now?
When I saw that the fear would be present whether I shared or not, I realised that I really had nothing to lose.
Sharing makes it possible to learn from others and for others to learn from you. When I reflected on my experiences at university, I realised that my progression from competent to good was based on receiving feedback and gaining insight from others’ work. The essence of feedback is to highlight areas of improvement and areas where one has done well to improve the overall quality of writing. In addition, readers can usually spot the things that you can’t see even after the 50th edit.
Sharing means that I have to actually put the work in to those drafts lying around on my laptop and my phone. It propels me into action.
Sharing is caring. I just thought I’d put a bit of rhyme in here.
Sharing creates momentum. If I want to actually be a published writer, I have to get used to putting myself out there. Sharing enables me to get used to critique
Sharing your writing encourages other people to share theirs too and so the good ole’ cycle of sharing continues.
I’m sharing now in spite of my fears. I don’t know if I’ll ever be completely happy with whatever I write. I don’t know when I’ll ever feel good enough either. But I do know that, writing is a continuous process, is a journey with no predetermined destination.
I’m also sharing to encourage the aspiring writer like me. I know, it can be scary and I know you may have found comfort in your fears whether imagined or real for too long. I get it. I’ve been there too. I’m currently there.
But, I’d rather take risks than spend the rest of my life being afraid of what ifs — what if I’m good or what if I’m not. Instead, I’d rather use that time being a writer who actually writes and becomes better at it. Because I know what good writing does to the soul. It teaches you. It entertains you. It spurs you to action. It comforts you. I could go on and on. But I’ll stop here to say this: I promise you are not alone. I’m here and I’m going to take the plunge and hit publish on this post, in spite of my fears.
Thanks for reading.
