x-ray vision

[devi]

I had The Fear last night. By which I mean that I found myself lying there in the dark, staring crazily at the ceiling and viciously scratching my head till it bled, my brain spinning down and down into ever greater depths of angst. Why last night, I don't know. Yesterday was great in many ways: end of term, won argument with shop assistant over Matt's shoes, Thai food, Garden State (which I loved). But suddenly, click, off went the light and on came the usual parade of thoughts of inadequacy and restlessness and self-doubt. When I got to the old reliable "maybe this is all there is, I should stop trying to write books and resign myself to being a two-bit teacher and nothing else, I have no imagination and my only skill is regurgitating simple facts", I knew there was nothing else for it but to get up and medicate myself with hot fruit tea and the internet.

On which I found a message from Andy Cox at Interzone, replying to a prod I gave him last week, saying yes, they are still supporting the James White Award and are definitely going to publish my story. Which is some encouragement. But he didn't say when.

I wrote an epic whinge, then thought better of it at the last minute (sometime around 3.30 am) and didn't post it. Thank goodness, now that I read it again. Instead, a weird moment from yesterday:

Two men were sitting in Coffee Republic, both in shiny bomber jackets with buzz-cuts. They didn't particularly look like doctors, in fact they looked more like builders or rugby players - but they were holding an X-ray of someone's pelvis up to the light, pointing at parts of it, and collapsing into giggles.

Comments

[miss-newham.livejournal.com]

Aw, dude. I consider you a writer, though it'd help if I was in a position to bestow renown and money and PUBLISHING on you. But being a teacher is a noble pursuit too... tell me it is!

[bluedevi.livejournal.com]

Oh, it certainly is. But The Fear says that I'm not even a proper teacher - I've only ever taught very small classes, and was shocked at how hard it was to control that class on Tuesday that was twice its usual size, and I know that for Proper Teaching, crowd control is essential. So what The Fear is really saying is that maybe I'm not actually good at anything...

I really want to lighten that with a smiley, but I just told atommickbrane that I was giving them up.

[miss-newham.livejournal.com]

Well, my heartfelt bluedevi Admiration Society says that The Fear is talking shit. Though if you were naturally good at crowd control, that would make you naturally terrifying. I think it's something one acquires along the way... at least, I hope so.

[modalverben.livejournal.com]

If it helps in the slightest I consider you to be wonderful.

[miss-newham.livejournal.com]

And while you were angsting, I had a dream that you had started calling yourself Minty.

[bluedevi.livejournal.com]

I almost got called 'Binty' in cardinalsin's role-playing game, so that's sort of spooky.

[bluedevi.livejournal.com]

It's clearly Minty with a cold.

[miss-newham.livejournal.com]

Please don't do it. I was more than a little distressed by your rash decision.

[alfaguru.livejournal.com]

Perhaps said x-ray showed an inanimate object in an unnecessary place? They may have bought it off the internet.

"x-ray anol insert OMG sexy hot emo!!!!"

[bluedevi.livejournal.com]

That's what I was wondering. But my peering across the cafe didn't reveal anything obvious in the crotch area - it all looked quite normal.

[maccy.livejournal.com]

I think it's probably an occupational hazard. In my experience relentlessly self-confident writers are, without exception, terrible. Self-doubt is a necessary factor in producing good work.

There are two separate questions, I think:

1. Can I write stuff that stuff that I'm happy with?

2. Can I make a living doing it?

I think you should try and be successful and number 1 and not feel bad if number 2 doesn't seem to be happening. Actually making a living out of writing is so dependent on factors outside your control that's its not worth fretting about (and it certainly doesn't have much bearing on how good you are).

Obviously, finding the time and energy to write is tough if you have to spend most of your time making a living and that's a circle I haven't been able to square (my job still dominates my life at the moment).

But, certainly, I think it's worth riding out the bad patches and persevering - it's a long-haul commitment and it's going to feel rubbish at times but hopefully the destination will make the journey worth it.

I'm saying this as much to myself as I am to you.

Good luck with the whole shebang!

[femme-letale.livejournal.com]

I completely agree! Commercial and critical success depends far more on external factors than talent. And that is one of the reasons why I decided NOT to be a professional artist. The work/creative activity balance is something that eventually gets resolved.
Solution 1, from femme_letale: Make work your creative activity difficulty 3/5(hence the PhD).
Solution 1, from neil_scott: Make your work your creative activity - difficulty 5/5 (hence The Mind's Construction magazine).

[bluedevi.livejournal.com]

Hmmm... is your solution to pour your creativity into your day job, and Neil's to go out on a limb and start doing your own creative stuff as a day job?

[femme-letale.livejournal.com]

Precisely. We are both happy. Poorer and busier but very happy indeed.

[femme-letale.livejournal.com]

As one of my students would say: can you expand on won argument with shop assistant over Matt's shoes?

[bluedevi.livejournal.com]

Heh. Well, at the weekend we went to Red Sun in Camden, where Matt bought some nice boots, having been told they were size 10. He thought they were a bit snug, but I supposed that was because new shoes often are, and his old ones are so stunningly decrepit that they're far too loose anyway. He set off for the library the next day, found himself in foot agony, and on closer inspection discovered that they were in fact size nines.

I brought them back yesterday, because I had more time on my hands and because they know me in there, as I've bought almost all my recent shoes from them. So the argument consisted of me saying 'you've been so reliable in the past, when you say something is a certain size we're inclined to believe you,' and them getting all shirty that Matt hadn't wiped the grit and London grime off the soles before packing them back up, and me offering to wipe them myself if that was the only problem, and repeating 'but you said they were 10s and you were wrong, you wouldn't want to lose my custom, would you?'

I didn't think I'd get away with it, but somehow I did. And I didn't even have to do any wiping.

[femme-letale.livejournal.com]

I was concerned because I followed the shoe story up to the point where Matt feet hurt. You know what? Your were absolutely damn right and if they didn't acknowledge that they would have lost my potential custom too!

[lostcarpark.livejournal.com]

Either gynachologist humour (a special brand, incapable of comprehension by mere mortals) or some bizarre internet porn ring. I'm not sure which theory I'm more uncomfortable about.

You know, looking at the stuff I've written recently, I feel almost exactly the same way. At least you have a prestigious award to prove you have some talent.

[bluedevi.livejournal.com]

Well, start putting it up on pennydreadfuls and I'll soon put you right on that count!

[bateleur.livejournal.com]

But suddenly, click, off went the light and on came the usual parade of thoughts of inadequacy and restlessness and self-doubt.

I know I'm going to sound like someone's dad saying this (hey - I am someone's dad), but it's a really bad idea to think about things when you need sleep.

On some level I've always known this, but when you look after toddlers you see what a fundamental truth it is: tired people get upset, irritable and are generally completely broken.

[This entry brought to you by the I-Need-Sleep Hypocrisy Society]

[bluedevi.livejournal.com]

I knew I wasn't going to get any useful thinking done, yes... that's where the net and the tea came in. It didn't quite work, since I ended up whinging into a notepad file anyway rather than distracting myself, but at least it tired me out so I could go to sleep properly.

[elethe.livejournal.com]

I think you are already on the ladder. You are writing and you are trying to get somewhere with it. And you have an award and someone potentially interested in representing you.

You are doing fine so far. It's natural to panic.

Without self-doubt you [one] wouldn't be able to push yourself [oneself] to greater things.

Perhaps one of the main goals in life is making other people envious.

[elethe.livejournal.com]

Also - everyone already thinks of you as a writer.

Nobody ever thinks of me as a writer.

[bluedevi.livejournal.com]

Don't they? I'd have assumed they did. And I can't imagine why people think of me as one.

But... I don't think I worded any of that terribly well. There was all sorts of gunk swirling round my head. The worry about having no talent was just part of a more general dislike of myself. I feel like I've turned into a dry, middle-aged, mousy, hesitant, timid frump of a person, when what I really want to be doing is jumping for joy and crying when I need to, having adventures, having ideas that go on like lightbulbs in my head... screaming into the infinite abyss, even.

[jiggery-pokery.livejournal.com]

Dumping letters on the street for postage out of your control and adapting an existing media form for the new medium of the blogosphere (yer Choose Your Own Adventure On Your Blog thang) may not be as expeditious as, say, Dave Gorman's Googlewhack Adventure, or Walking Around Ireland With A Fridge, but they're more imaginitive than the fun that most people get up to - more imaginitive than most of the Happening Young Things on LiveJournal, if you ask me. (Which you didn't.)

[bluedevi.livejournal.com]

Thanks. And if all goes well, there should be more Gormanesque hijinks early next year. Stay tuned :)