Here we are, the penultimate weekend. As of last night I had only ten thousand words remaining in my edit of Her Demonic Majesty, and given that I have a whole lot of nothing ahead of me today, that means that by the time I return her tomorrow, I’ll have but one chapter remaining, or I’ll awaken feeling bright and shiny, and there will be nothing left but to compile the story into a Word document and created the Table of Contents.
Either way, I finish the edit and format within the next thirty-six hours.
That means next week is filled with fun and frivolity. I know I’m going to be interviewed, but it’s going to be an interview the likes of which many of you have never seen. I’m thinking up a book giveaway, But I want it to be something different–which means I’m not sure how I’ll do it, but I’m investigating means. I had considered asking people to guess what color I look best wearing, but one person would walk away with everything then . . .
The interesting thing I find is that I’m overly excited. Worried, yeah; I’m always worried that something will show up wrong in the story, that it’s not going to sell, that it’ll be rejected after all my hard work. But that happens, you know. My friend Jo Custer said yesterday that she was told that the movie she’s trying to Kickstart into existence is “filthy”. Many jokes were made of this comment, not the least was that someone should tell Lars Von Trier there’s a new bitch in town. Though if you want to get into Lars Von Trier territory, you need a leading lady to come up and spit on you every morning and tell you what a horrible person you are, because she knows she’ll be spending the afternoon her standing naked in a mountain stream masturbating while being yelled at to “Look natural!”
We creative times, we do our own thing. We love praise, but be usually get criticized to hell and gone. As I’ve said many times, the non-creative out there don’t get us. Yes, they want to be entertained by us, but they don’t get what we do, and why. If you’re like some of the people I know, their notion usually boils down to, “You wanna make money.” Well, yes, dude: I would like to make money. I’d like to make enough money to do this full time. There isn’t a one of us who wouldn’t love to spend their days crafting stories or making movies or producing pretty pictures. And I’m not talking talking making mad J. K. Rollinbucks cash here, either. If I was making fifty thousand a year writing, I’d be home all the time writing.
Why do we suffer the pangs of criticism, though? I think part of it comes from the un-creative being unable to build their own works, but damned if they don’t know what a good work should look like. There are things out there that are broken, that is true, and creative works that are totally Teh Suk. But the hate does seem to come at everyone and everything, and it’s almost impossible to avoid.
The trick comes from deciding if the criticism is of the good kind . . . and if you can learn from it.
As for the other kind . . .
Write your own stories, then get back to me.