The Perfect Novel
I know there really is no such thing as a perfect novel. There will be mistakes or minor errors but I never considered the fact that there may be friendships and relationships ruined.
Growing up I harbored a lot of anger and hate. That anger and hate turned into short stories and novels. Looking back at the work I did then, I can honestly say they weren’t that bad. True, they need work; I was young and my writing was lacking some maturity. But I always did one thing really well–I always expressed exactly how I felt without worrying what others would think. The only problem is that back then, I never considered sharing my work–I never even considered become a writer or an English Major. But now I am and I have every intention of sharing my work but I know there will be concequences.
The main reason I haven’t shared my work is because I am aware my work will anger people–maybe even infuriate them. At this point in my life, I’m debating whether or not I even care about other people’s feelings. In this case, the people involved is my family. They are always the cause of my fury and hate and I have a terrible temper. Instead of acting on impulse, I put the feelings on paper and they’re not half bad. I continually invest in my family emotionally only to have them throw it back in my face. But then I start to wonder if I want to share my work out of revenge.
These thoughts are frequently on my mind when I think about my writing, or think about starting a new short story or novel.
I want to have the freedom to share my work, but at what expense?