When I began writing several years ago, I gave no thought about how my writing might affect a reader. I wrote for the sheer enjoyment of playing with words; hoping to project the vivid moving pictures in my mind onto paper. I sought entertainment; for me and for readers. But more than anything else, I wanted to see my name in print.
When I finally did see my name in print, it was a mixed feeling of pride and embarrassment. I was proud that my work was viewed by someone to be worthy enough to be published and yet I was also embarrassed that the “whole world” could see my thoughts, and I worried that others would laugh at me and criticize me. But of course, the “whole world” didn’t read my writing; I’m far from being a world renowned writer. And no one laughed at me or criticized me, at least, not to my face. And now it’s no longer important to see my name in print.
Writing is a strange business. No matter what I write, whether it’s an article, a piece of humour, a devotional, I feel I’m exposing myself; sharing more than just secrets with strangers. I’m not comfortable doing that. Yes, I realize I lack confidence. And I prefer to keep my life private. Yet I go on writing. Why? Just for the fun of it I suppose; the fun of hearing or seeing a reader’s reaction. If I’m attempting to stir anger or disappointment with a character, did the reader or audience show that reaction? Did they laugh when I wrote something funny? It’s much the same as when I’m performing in a comedy play. It’s great fun pretending to be someone else and to hear the audience laugh. It confirms that I’ve said my lines correctly and on cue, projected my voice, and that I’ve brought the character to life. What fun!
Later, my purpose for writing changed. I began writing to inform, to encourage, and to provide a little relief, at least momentarily, from the stresses and worries of life. Perhaps some of my writing has met this mandate.
Well, again I feel I’ve exposed myself; been writing in the nude. Oh, I’ll get over it – in a week or two.