Here is something you may not know: I’m terrified of writing.

I’m terrified of roaches, too. But the fear of winged insects is only an outward reaction to an external environment you have no control over, an equation best explained as

[involuntary chemical imbalance]
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[illogical phobia] + [childhood trauma]

Writing is a controlled substance. It’s a life form lodged inside your skull. It uses your head as a personal crystal ball so it can read the swirling tea leaves of your brain matter. It’s an extension of both your personality and your life choices. And to take all that and put it out there for the whole world to see, can be a horrifying thing. And the kicker? Writers do this voluntarily.

A better equation would be

([disturbingly vivid imagination] + [reading compulsion]) - ([fear of failure] + [privacy issues])
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([emulation of writing influences] x [pride that one can do better than current contemporaries]) + [mild hypergraphia]

Every character and every plot is a functioning organ of your person. They can be as useless as an appendix, as relevant as a spinal cord. Sometimes you don’t know what they’re needed for, like spleens or men’s nipples, but they make up an integral part of the whole sum of you. Showing them off in public is akin to stripping naked in front of a live studio audience with a vindictive laugh track.

So I make noncommittal replies when a few people express a desire to read some of my works, or I hastily cover up my laptop screen when someone attempts to read through a working novel. A chapter or two reluctantly relinquished to curious proofreaders are accompanied by a fluttering of “It’s not quite done yet”s and “It’s still not very good”s and “There’s still lots of things to improve”s.  When people nod politely when I gingerly explain I’m a struggling writer, and change topics at first opportunity, clearly disinterested, relief is the first emotion to sprout, because the need to express myself more coherently has just been rendered moot.

There is no real point to this post other than a visible attempt to psych myself up to be more open about certain works. Almost done with final revisions, and it’s only just begun to hit me - what the hell am I trying to get myself into?

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