Stories and Creators
For a moment, I feel like I should just sit down and let myself think, to write out my thoughts for a bit and release, to relax and distance myself from things for a moment.
A lot has been going on, both inside my head and outside, out there in the real world; though, I don’t want to go too much into it.
The things going on outside, I mean.
Relationships and societies are being tested, and the world we ourselves have divided is being exposed to the eyes of those who can see. Tensions are rising, the heat is up, everything so hot to the point each one of us can’t see, leaving us blinded, unable to see and only able to yell and cry out without a thought to try and take things peacefully without the toxicity of some laboratory fume or steam.
Again, however; I am not interested in giving my own insight into such topics. For now, to divert our attention from the chaos we don’t have the full power of containing right now at this moment, I want to talk about stories, and about their creators.
Essentially, I feel like expressing my thoughts regarding the writing process, specifically those of novels and lengthy works.
Though, especially novels.
This topic mainly came up because I am in the process of planning out my next work, “We Were There.”
As creators of these spectacular tales, the public tends to think of us as some form of genius, as people beyond the general public, as wizards stringing words out in impossible ways and forms, piecing together fantastical tales no one can even imagine.
They treat us like idols, like some untouchable entity beyond any mortal being’s reach. As if we’re immune to the heartaches of being human. No matter what people think, we are human. Not some godly being free from all worry and human problems, both physical and mental.
Some of us show that humanity, some of us are private and prefer to stay away from the limelight.
Some are treated with such high regard that they fear what happens if they dare take even one more step; fearing what happens if another second or even day passes.
What if — with a single snap — everything they hold dear were taken away from them? What if all the love they receive at one moment become lies and hatred the next? What if some hidden flaw were unraveled, exposing the public to the truth? Whatever that truth, real or made-up, were?
Those are the fears some of us have.
Even those who aren’t even in the literary world, yet to be published or even known; known by only a friend or two, or their family members — even they know this fear, and probably many more.
We’re all human, which inevitably brings us to human dilemmas and social anxieties.
I dare to admit, creating stories isn’t as easy as what people think; yes, it is easier for us, but that doesn’t mean that we’re immune from any problems or anxieties.
Some imagine us busy at our desks, working away, our fingers never ceasing to type a word out; each tap quick, no gap in between each click. Of course, some of you may say, “of course it’s not that easy!” but that’s avoiding the truth of what we face.
Many run away from expressing these emotions, even those of the anxiety and fear and depression that also comes with the added pressure of being in the spotlight before thousands, and for some of us, millions of people.
Everyone’s defining you as this and that, and each time there’s a pressure for us to live up to those expectations. Many have probably seen or even heard interviews and such from writers and artists and game designers or even actors about what they feel, but sometimes I feel like these things are still rather hidden, because not all of us have the courage to say these feelings.
As a writer, it’s a good that I get to put my feelings into the book and words I’m writing, yet the pressure it still the same.
We all feel it; and just because a person is famous or wealthy or well-received and critically acclaimed, it doesn’t mean we’re free from our humanity.
Some of us shy away from saying these things because we think to ourselves thinking that our feelings are a “non-issue” because of the amount of fame we have and the amount of success; but each time I hear an artist or anyone confess that, I just have to press my lips and say, “no, it’s not a non-issue.”
Returning to the topic of writing stories, as I’ve said, I’m in the middle of planning my next book.
Of course, things haven’t been easy, and I guess that it wouldn’t be.
Sometimes, I think back and wonder how I wrote all that I did; how I planned it all, and how it all came together so easily. But, if I think further back, I realize that it wasn’t as easy as I thought.
Our brains think of past events as if they’re easier because we forgot the bad parts.
For me: the anxiety, the pressure, the fear.
The negative thoughts wondering if I will make it or if I will actually be able to do it. The thoughts saying that I might’ve lost touch of who I am, that I might’ve written my last book, that the next won’t ever come to fruition.
All of these are things we don’t want to remember, and certainly not me right now.
In fact, writing all those thoughts were a struggle because I wish not to admit them, I fear facing them: I must admit so.
I have human fears, though my brain finds it hard to admit that; I know, many feel the same.
Without notice, sometimes we compare ourselves, sometimes we look at others and then at ourselves only to think that others are better.
I have impostor syndrome, and those who have it too may relate to how I fear of being “found out” as a “fraud” or that everything had been a “lie” and that every success had simply been “luck.”
I hate admitting all this; not from an intellectual standpoint, but from an emotional one: my brain and heart keep wanting to protect myself from these things to the point that it wants me to stop typing them all out all bare. I’ll plow through; because I’m human.
Things can get tough, but I believe that we can be better; that we can strive for better things and that we should believe we could. I’m writing not only for myself, but for you, the reader, as well.
I wish so myself, and I wish so for you too.
We’re all human, but that doesn’t mean we’re weak.
Many have said that our struggles would only make us stronger, and that’s true, and we must believe that we can strive for something better in life.
We have a lot of things to get on top of immediately; world hunger, poverty, inequality, racism, depression, and the general belief instilled within us to make divides between humans, creating a “us versus them” scenario.
So much is to be done; and feeling bad and having anxiety and fears and depressing thoughts is something that would go on for our lives, and for generations to come — but we must pick ourselves up and see things in a better way, clearing the fog and wiping our vision free of prejudice and preconceived thoughts towards both others and ourselves.
We can do it, whatever it is that we want, as long as we believe we can. So, to end this off, say it with me — “I believe.”