Own your suck

flexorThis is a little rant I’ve been saving for an occasion…

I’ve never worried about the quality of my work, and not because I know it is perfection and upon reading it, all other writers will throw away their implements, weeping, knowing they will never achieve what I have achieved. No, it’s because I know my writing sucks. I’m not singling myself out here, because everybody’s writing sucks. Yours, mine, that of people who have gotten knighthoods for their writing, people who are entrusting their first few words to a cruel and uncaring Internet, the people who are mentioned first when you ask “Name me a writer”. Everyone’s writing sucks.

The thing is, if you heed the right feedback, both positive and negative, you will learn the things you are doing right (and do more of it), and the things you are doing wrong (so you can avoid them like an overused cliche). One’s writing will never stop sucking, but with careful feeding and watering and sunlight, it will suck at higher and higher levels. The stupid things you no longer do will be more and more advanced.

And the weirdest thing is, you can have something that sucks really, really badly, such as “The Eye Of Argon” (In Tale the Second I poke a little fun at it), or “The Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay”, and people will really enjoy it. How many authors can claim that their work even now is being read aloud? And being remembered for a very long time…


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