Before I get on my soap box for this month’s Insecure Writer’s Support Group post, I must thank the Ninja Captain himself, along with his co-host for the month: Sheena-kay Graham, Suzanne Furness, and Laura Eno!
If you have time, please visit and help some of the other IWSG participants. You never know how your wisdom and experience can help another writer.
Ok, soap box time: I’ve noticed recently a disturbing trend and I need your help to put an end to it. Don’t get me wrong, I am guilty of it as well, but no more.
What is this trend among us writerly types were we add disclaimers before we share our work with others.
Raise your hand if you have said, written or even felt some version of the following?
I am so bad at pitching my project, but . . . I am terrible at writing synopsis, but . . . I am new to writing, so . . . I didn’t have time to polish this, but . . . I’ve never shown this to anyone, so . . .Come on, raise your hand, don’t be shy. We are all friends here.
Why are we apologizing to each other for something we created. If any group of people in the world understands how hard this writing process is, it’s fellow writers.
When you preface something you share with an apology, you already put a preconceived impression of your own writing in the reader’s mind. That preconceived impression is based entirely on your own insecurities and has nothing to do with the work itself.
Believe me, it is never as bad as you think it is and even it if is, well that’s what rewrites are for.
So, I am proclaiming this ‘stop apologizing for your work’ day. Let your work speak for itself.
Do you see this among fellow writers? Do you do this?
“Look at it.” Hailee pointed up at the metallic structure. “It does look like the death star.”
“No it doesn’t.” Brian tried the door, but it wouldn’t budge. He pushed the next door, again, locked.
It’s round, ominious.” Hailylee placed her hand on the structure. “I bet Darth Vader’s in there right now reading out thoughts.”
“Darth Vader controls thoughts, he doesn’t read them.”
Brian tried another door. Locked, “What’s so precious in there that every door has to be locked.”
“Here, let me try.” Hailee put her hand on the next door and pushed. It opened.
He grabbed her hand, “Come on.”
They walked into the structure. The energy flowed from the structure through him. It practically buzzed.
“You feel that?” Hailee said. “It’s alive. Just like the Death Star.”
Rolling his eyes, he pulled Hailyee down the corridor. Feeling the smooth metal walls along the way. They were cold to the touch. Strange considering it was 90 degrees outside.
The hall took a sudden left turn. The light from outside did not.
“I think we should go back.”
“Let’s keep going.” Several feet more, there was a faint light visible in the distance. The comfort of the light encouraged them to walk faster.
Brian dared to take his eyes away from the light for a second to make sure Hailee saw what he saw. As they drew closer, they could feel the warmth. They entered a large open space, but didn’t notice, they were mesmerized. The light, warm and inviting, bobbed up and down in the middle of the space.
Hailee reached for it, but Brian pulled her hand back. “No, don’t touch it.”
“I have to, it’s so beautiful.”
“No must not touch,” It was hard for him to articulate because every ounce of his being wanted to touch it, too.
“Why?” Hailee whispered.
“Because, we haven’t earned the right.” As soon as the last syllable left his lips, the light exploded into a thousand lights. The blinding light knocked Brian and Hailee down.
The roof parted and sun shined brightly in there eyes.
“Yes,” a voice from above said. “You have not earned the right, but you will, I promise, you will.”
Brian and Hailee laid there, on the star, basking in the greatness that is Cowboy Stadium.
Sydney Aaliyah Michelle 