On Writers Part I

We are needy people, we writers. We nearly beg people to read our latest creations, and then are deeply hurt if our masterpieces are criticized even in the least. But when we are isolated in the deep thoughts of our mind, we know our readers are right, “It probably is crap.” Then we think, I think, “If I was just good enough, then I wouldn’t feel so needy.” Is that really true?

Stephen King writes a story and then puts it away for six weeks, but when he gets it out he wants his wife to read right away. He can hardly wait for her comments. He says we all write for or to someone. In his case it is his wife. She sometimes gets angry and says, “Stop being so needy.” Stephen King, one of the best selling authors of our modern times, “needy?” That’s what he says she says in his book, On Writing.

If he is needy, where does that put the rest of us? My sister, Mary, reads all my stuff. Of course, she’s my sister, but I’m sure there are times she would rather not. I know that, and yet, I still want someone, anyone, to read what I write. I’ve sent stuff to contests just to have someone new read my stuff. I know I won’t win, and also know probably no one ever wins those things anyway. But, I pay my $15.00 just hoping someone will read my story and say under their breathe, “Wow, what a great writer this guy is!”

I go to writing groups, and I can’t wait to read my stuff, but struggle to sit though someone else’s readings. Their stuff is boring, boring, boring! But, I’ve come to the point of not criticizing, or at least very little, because they are needy too, just like me, and I feel sorry for them.

I have been reading a blog, sjstow.com. The lady that writes it is very good. She holds my attention, not an easy task when I’m so egoistical. She is a English major, but works in a coffee shop slinging coffee all day. Her blog began when she vowed to read 100 books in 2010 and blog about it. It is August at the time of this writing, and she is only on book 31. But her blog is excellent. Because she is a writer, I know she is needy. I know I should make a comment on how good her stuff is, but I can’t. Well, at least not yet. I envy her. All that talent and I know she hasn’t come to grips with the fact she’s really that good. She wants readers. Probably thinking, no one really cares what I write, or if I write. I care, but I need to get past myself and write her a comment. She’s dying out there for anything from anybody, if she is anything like me.