LJ Idol Exhibit A: Week 4 - Ultra Deep Field
I don’t know myself very well. At twenty five years old, you might think the search for identity would be, at the least, on a solid path. Obviously, your average twenty five year old won't know everything about themselves, but I have a sinking feeling many of them know more than I do about myself.
Perhaps I don’t want to know myself, because I’m worried about what I’ll find. It is entirely likely that, while I may like to talk about the inner workings of my brain, I don’t want to be truly honest with myself. I’m worried I won’t like the answers. What if a serious self-exploration reveals nothing but a teeming hive of negative traits?
While I might spend little time in honest self-exploration, sometimes it happens anyway, against my will. When I write, certain ideas occur over and over and over again, to the point where, thematically, my writing is distressingly and disturbingly uniform. I used to pride myself on my creativity, but everything I write is honestly kind of the same. And what I write reveals things about me that are awkward at best and deeply embarrassing at worst.
Most, if not all, of my protagonists are dissatisfied with the world in which they live. Clearly, I am not satisfied with my world. I feel I don’t fit in, and the fact that pretty much all my narrators are outcasts just shows how insecure I am with my place in the world. It shows how I don’t know what my place in the world even is.
That’s hardly the most unflattering thing about my writing, though. A large portion of my characters are in denial about their sexuality on some level -- in a way that makes it very, very obvious I am still working this stuff out myself. I’m twenty five in a liberal area with plenty of access to information -- I shouldn’t be so damn confused. I’m aware sexuality is fluid, but the fact that I don’t know mine well at all is painful.
It gets worse. While it would not seem to be a bad thing on the surface to have an affinity for writing Young Adult fiction, it actually just indicates how emotionally immature I am. I’m able to identify with younger protagonists since I haven’t actually grown up as much as a twenty five year old should have.
Clearly, I don’t want to grow up. A friend suggested adulthood scares me, and it does. The idea of having to rely on just myself turns me off to such a degree that it even influences the turn-ons in my writing. Bondage is a common theme in my more sexually explicit works, including an entire alien culture based around voluntary sex slavery. I like the idea of someone making all my decisions for me, since I’m terrified of making them myself.
Looking at my stories in this way was a deeply painful experience. It wasn’t any fun to examine my psyche and see all the flaws laid bare. I can't just keep holding them at a distance, as much as I might like to. I have to accept the flaws enough so I can work on correcting them.
Despite the pain from this examination, I’m not going to stop writing -- maybe this exercise will even get me to confront my flaws head-on.
Perhaps I don’t want to know myself, because I’m worried about what I’ll find. It is entirely likely that, while I may like to talk about the inner workings of my brain, I don’t want to be truly honest with myself. I’m worried I won’t like the answers. What if a serious self-exploration reveals nothing but a teeming hive of negative traits?
While I might spend little time in honest self-exploration, sometimes it happens anyway, against my will. When I write, certain ideas occur over and over and over again, to the point where, thematically, my writing is distressingly and disturbingly uniform. I used to pride myself on my creativity, but everything I write is honestly kind of the same. And what I write reveals things about me that are awkward at best and deeply embarrassing at worst.
Most, if not all, of my protagonists are dissatisfied with the world in which they live. Clearly, I am not satisfied with my world. I feel I don’t fit in, and the fact that pretty much all my narrators are outcasts just shows how insecure I am with my place in the world. It shows how I don’t know what my place in the world even is.
That’s hardly the most unflattering thing about my writing, though. A large portion of my characters are in denial about their sexuality on some level -- in a way that makes it very, very obvious I am still working this stuff out myself. I’m twenty five in a liberal area with plenty of access to information -- I shouldn’t be so damn confused. I’m aware sexuality is fluid, but the fact that I don’t know mine well at all is painful.
It gets worse. While it would not seem to be a bad thing on the surface to have an affinity for writing Young Adult fiction, it actually just indicates how emotionally immature I am. I’m able to identify with younger protagonists since I haven’t actually grown up as much as a twenty five year old should have.
Clearly, I don’t want to grow up. A friend suggested adulthood scares me, and it does. The idea of having to rely on just myself turns me off to such a degree that it even influences the turn-ons in my writing. Bondage is a common theme in my more sexually explicit works, including an entire alien culture based around voluntary sex slavery. I like the idea of someone making all my decisions for me, since I’m terrified of making them myself.
Looking at my stories in this way was a deeply painful experience. It wasn’t any fun to examine my psyche and see all the flaws laid bare. I can't just keep holding them at a distance, as much as I might like to. I have to accept the flaws enough so I can work on correcting them.
Despite the pain from this examination, I’m not going to stop writing -- maybe this exercise will even get me to confront my flaws head-on.