“You’re only as good as your last worst line.”
That’s the thought that kept running through my head tonight as I sat looking at the prologue to a story I wrote a couple years ago. Well, to say ‘wrote’ may imply that it’s done, when the truth is that it’s far from seeing any type of finish. Though maybe I’ll ignore that because I did write the Prolouge, and it’s done.
Herein lies my problem, I’m even second guessing my own commentary. Insane. I keep thinking about that line ‘….last worst line.’, and now it’s haunting me. I’ve written so many personal things over the years, who’s to say which was the worse? I know I have them, but I don’t think anything I’ve recently done is bad. It may be a bit blasé, but I don’t think it’s bad.
Here’s another one: ‘You are your own worst enemy’ and, right now, that’s a critic.
One of my hardest things to do, as a writer, is to stop thinking that what I write isn’t good. Even when I’m excited about a scene or character that comes up there’s a small voice in the back of my head wondering if I did enough, could I have done better; and maybe just one more read. I need to learn to ignore that voice, maybe not completely but to the point where listening to it doesn’t cripple my efforts to move forward.
Progress and motion.
Let us not forget vulnerability and the desire to be accepted. No one wants to be remembered for doing something bad – except, of course, the stranger people. When you write for the world to see you’re saying “Here I am! I’m letting you into a special part of me.” The time that passes by after that announcement is full of both dread and expectations, wondering what others will think of us. But again, that’s not something we should worry over.
I’m going to worry, but what I will try is exposing myself by putting up the prologue tomorrow.