So, where do I get the balls to say that MY writing isn't crap? That's just it...having the balls, the confidence is a huge part of knowing that I can string words together in an at least passable way. Confidence is not something I wear well. I still feel uncomfortable in my confidence. Yeah, I know that doesn't really make sense.
I read a lot...usually other writers: prose and poetry. I usually think my work pales in comparison. My faults, as a writer, are many. My vocabulary, while above average, is nothing compared to so many. Logic and I have never been properly introduced. Oh, wait, a friend once did me the favor of making introductions, but we found we had nothing in common and after some small talk about the weather went our separate ways. My cat, who tends to fall off the bed at least once every few days because he forgets that he's laying at the edge, is more clever than I will ever be. And finally, I am ADD enabled and imagination impaired.
I swoon when I read works by other poets. Wishing I could use such imagery or build layers of subtlety into my work. Hell, some days I'd just like to have a point.
Yet, I'm saying I now know that my writing doesn't suck. I finally figured out, with the help of people telling me when something I've written has struck them in some way, and by going back and reading through my own words, that what I'm doing is okay. It's not the same as the things that make me swoon. And, that's okay too.
I often think my style is too abrupt, too angst-ridden, too simple. Now, I know it's just me. My writing can only ever be just me. I can see changes in my words from then to now. Sometimes I even see what I would call improvements in the changes. But now is not the time to judge. And, from whom would I get the standards from to do such judging?
I'm learning to put words down on a regular basis. To write. And to keep writing. I often tweet to Just. Keep. Writing. and I'm finally starting to take my own advice. Because writing isn't the kind of endeavor that has limits. Sure, there are guidelines for what to call groups of words of certain sizes (like novel, novella, novelette, and the ubiquitous Lowell that encompasses the fourth dimension of time as well); but beyond that, there are no rules...
Except that to be a writer you need to write. And, in understanding and practicing that, I am gaining confidence. The confidence to finally understand that what I'm doing is okay. And I just need to keep doing it...