A question I came up across recently is, “If our worth doesn’t depend on the opinions of others, why do creatives want to share their art instead of just doing it for themselves?”
I guess the response has to do with the fact that humans are wired for connection.
From the age of 17 I worked really hard to achieve my goals. That involved overcoming adversity, a bunch of sacrifices and a whole lot of hustling. I guess I thought it would make me worthy.
By my late 20s, I had all the basics: a NZ passport, a degree, a well-paying job in my chosen field, a house, a husband, a kid, 2 poetry anthologies, articles in magazines and a blog. I also had a chronic illness, burnout, and no will to continue. I couldn’t enjoy anything I had, and I didn’t want anything. I had no more goals left, no aspiration, barely enough energy to maintain what I had built, and nothing to look forward to.
Around the same time, I lost my mother, and to distract myself from the grief, I started drafting a manuscript about a con-man in space. It contrasted my sad life and gave me something that was my own to hang on to. But by the time I reached the end of the first draft, I felt this book could become yet another tick box on my accomplishments list.
Nevertheless, accustomed to taking things to the bitter end, I uploaded it to a critique website. My manuscript was ripped to shreds. “Learn how to write dialogue,” one comment said. “Get rid of the info dumps,” said another. “This is slo-ow. When is something going to happen?” Ouch. I’ve never felt more alive.
In addition to the roasts, I saw some positive comments and some constructive criticisms. I was buzzing with ideas on how to improve, but most importantly, for the first time in a while, I felt like I had something to live for.
I don’t know why this experience had such a profound effect on me. Maybe because I did something vulnerable and survived. Maybe because I shared a piece of myself and had others meaningfully interact with it. Maybe because I found connection.
Starting an instagram account and finding even more souls to share the creative journey with, to laugh, cry and feel with, helped keep me motivated through the countless rounds of revision. Now, working towards publishing the novel no longer feels like a tick box exercise. I imagine how readers will interact with it, and through it see not my status or job title, but a piece of my imperfect soul.
A quote from Ender’s Game refers to humans as, “The lonely animals who cannot dream each other’s dreams,” and I used to believe this. But honestly, I think, after all…. We can.
A. ZAYKOVA 