Creative Envy

 Yes, sometimes I feel like I hate my passion. I don’t even know if that makes any sense. But I do. Today I saw these gorgeous photographs and then some gorgeous sketches from an artist’s collection and after being blown away I started feeling a tad bit jealous, well more like very jealous.

You see the thing with writing (I’m talking about my novel writing here) is that you never really get to show off your masterpiece. You know how photographers get to show their stellar portraits and artists get to show off their pieces, fashion designers their clothes?

Well, it’s different for the writer, well for me at least.

Everyday I put down words  and the only person I share them with is myself .  A sample page from a book is just not impressive if we don’t have access to the rest of the story. I don’t expect anybody to be moved by a single paragraph.

 There are days that I work on this book and I’d step back and marvel at some pretty dope dialogue but you know I can’t just put it up and go this is some pretty good stuff check it out. Or I can’t say tell me how you like this sentence I just constructed. It just doesn’t work that way when you’re trying to write a book. I’m secretly jealous of other artists, I mean, while I can’t pick up a page from my book and display independently they can pick a piece out of their unfinished collection and give the world a peek. Their pieces can often times stand on their own and leave the rest of us in awe.

But while I was sulking I also came across a passage that said something like this, “the search for immediate gratification is like a craving for sugar or nicotine” so I better heed the warning. I think any creative person just really wants to share what they do and have people love it, but that desire in itself is pretty dangerous.

My frustration with my writing isn’t all for shallow reasons though. I’ve realized I cannot separate my experiences from my writing; they somehow seep in there. I mean how do I expect a lover or ex lover to not cringe when they read some of the stuff I write. I’m actually laughing out Loud right now as I reminisce on some of my personal experiences that I’ve used as scenes in my book.  In any case I think writing is one of the freest mediums that allows for total self-expression. I’d be cheating if I left some of my personal experiences out. Actually scratch that, I don’t think it’s humanly possible that a writer not put some of himself or herself in there but it sure leaves you feeling naked.