Comparaplegic

So, I included the previous posts kind of as a back story so that people could get a better idea of where I'm coming from when it comes to writing.  I think they sum up my thoughts and feelings (and insecurities) on the craft pretty well.  Now that I've kind of caught you and myself up on the subject, here's a more recent rumination on writing.

I went to see the ladies from one of my previous jobs a few weeks ago.  I saw them right before I left for Birmingham because I was so hopeful that I'd find a job there and not return back home and I wouldn't see them for a while.  I needed to pick up the book that had my essay published in it.  I let them borrow it to read my essay.  I had put off going back there because of my weight gain.  I mean, those ladies are awesome and I enjoyed working with them and even visiting them after I had left the job but they were still ladies, southern ladies who liked to gossip.  The last time I visited them to give them the book, they had raved about how great I looked.  I had lost weight and my face was looking particularly clear and smooth during my visit.  I didn't want to go back there looking gross.  Not only would I spoil that last image they had of me but I'm sure they'd talk.  They loved to talk smack about people.  I wouldn't want my last visit to be the one they talked about over and over again.  "Gosh, Brannon's really packed on the pounds, hasn't he?"  "Yeah, all those greasy foods have made him fat and clogged his pores!"  Of course, I could be wrong.  Maybe they wouldn't talk about me.  But, considering the fact that they all talk about each other made me think otherwise.

But, since I was leaving for a long time (I thought), I decided to get my book back and see them one last time before I departed.

I asked them what they thought and they all really liked it.  It made me feel really good to hear that.  They said they even showed it to their boss and he laughed so hard he started crying.  Now, I don't know if that was an exaggeration ('cause it wasn't that funny) or if he is just really sensitive to snarky writing but it still made me feel really good either way.  Of course, that was the first time they had ever read anything I had written so maybe they were just impressed that I could put together a story at all but it still made me smile.  You know what my mom said when she finished reading the story?  "Thanks for making me look bad."  How supportive, eh?  Not only was my mom in the story for about two seconds but the part i wrote about her had nothing to do with the overall message.  So, I was glad to hear something positive from someone else for a change.

It just feels good to have my writing recognized and even somewhat praised.  I have this constant struggle with myself to realize or reject the fact that I can write.  I know it sounds like old news because I'm always talking about it but I talk about it because that nagging doubt in my head never goes away.  I'm constantly worried that someone will find out I'm a hack, that even if I am talented, the talent will slip away eventually.  Plus, I've never put together anything more ambitious than three essays for my nonfiction writing class in college.  I've never written a book or anything more than a short story here or there.  I don't know how to put together a story and I don't have ideas that flow out of me.  This is what makes me question my writing capabilities.  Shouldn't writers be able to write about anything?  Wouldn't real talent shine through the description on how to brush your teeth or when writing about the mundane task of ordering a pizza over the phone? 

Maybe it's not even about my writing but just about being insecure.  It's not just writing.  It's my animations and drawings and the way I am as a person.  I basically don't feel good enough at anything I do.  I've basically never felt good enough.  It's kind of weird because it's not like I haven't been encouraged over the years.  All my art teachers in school said I should pursue it in college.  And when I started writing, I had some encouragement there as well.  My nonfiction writing teacher told me to keep writing.  Why would he do that if I sucked?  I can still remember him coming up to me and saying, "This is a damn good essay" and the almost dizzying good feeling that came over me.  So, why is it that I still feel inadequate?

Maybe it could be the fact that I always compare myself to everyone else.  If I could simply recognize my abilities instead of comparing them to someone who is better, I wouldn't feel so bad.  The truth is, someone will always be better than me.  No matter how great I become, if I do become great at all, I still won't be as good as the next writer or artist or comedian or serial killer.  I just have a hard time separating myself from everyone else.  It's like I'm crippled by my inability to just recognize myself in my own capacity to write or draw or whatever else I do, frozen by a lack of faith in myself and my art.  If only I could just be okay with what I do.  If only I could strive to do the best work I can do, not the best work someone else can do.  I just need to be the best I can be because, really, I am all that I have.  To wish I could be as talented as someone else is like wishing I had wings to fly like a bird or fins so I could swim like a fish.  It's impossible for me to be that good because I'm simply not built that way.  I just need to learn how to use these arms and these legs and these abilities instead of wishing for other qualities that I will never possess.    I just don't know how to go about doing that.