It’s funny how I feel the need to justify my writing. I’m practically apologizing for being human and making mistakes anytime a person finds even the most minor of flaws within my creative works. Hell, I’d probably do the same thing here on my blog. It doesn’t really make sense. I should not feel the need to make excuses for something I put so much effort into, because the fact of the matter is the person is trying to help me. Have I mentioned that I’m terrible at accepting help?
Maybe I should rewind.
Recently, I gave my mom the first two chapters of a novel I wrote. This novel has gone through a series of edits, and I finally got to the point where I decided I was going to redo the entire thing. I gave my mother a copy of the renewed draft, so even though it’s way different than the previous one it is still rough. When I came over for dinner with my family, my mom asked if she could write on it. I don’t know why I took it so personally, but I began to feel bad that I had given someone something so unpolished. I shouldn’t feel bad. I’m sharing. She asked to see this, because she’s proud of me or whatever. I don’t need to make excuses. I know this. Yet I do it anyway.
It’s a side effect of me constantly thinking my writing is sub par. I need to break this habit, because I don’t need to be perfect. Comparing myself to others is not going to do me any good, because how boring would it be if everyone wrote the same.
This is where I make a point to start finding the beauty in my style and owning it. Because I’m never going to be anyone other than myself.
~ Johana Spade.