Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Today I've been thinking about what motivates people to write. To take up their pens, sit at their computers, gather their thoughts and transform them into words on a page. Thousands of years ago when whomever (whoever?) came up with cuneiform writing, did they do so out of necessity or the great strain of all that oral history and tradition weighing them down?
Another blog that I frequent posed the question about whether or not writers would keep writing if someone told them basically that they had no chance of ever being published. It seemed the overwhelming response was that those who write, do so out of a desire to get their version or point of view or creative force out of their heads and someplace else, whatever that canvas might look like.
I'm revising a particularly problematic chapter and received some excellent help with that last night. But it occurred to me that critiques are not necessarily for the faint-hearted, which I am not--faint-hearted that is. So, while I try always to see criticism as constructive, even if someone says something that's not particularly helpful, I wonder if others feel the same.
I should also post the caveat that I have to shop for new pants and I'd rather stick needles in my eyes than shop, so that might explain the bleak mood today. I promise to be suitably silly and less pensive at a near date in the future.