Printed
I got printed. Published writer that's me, and how exciting it was at the time. It was 400 words of observational hilarity very well received by anyone who knows me.
However...
It's never the people you know who's praise you crave. Don't get me wrong their praise is always so gratefully appreciated and without it I don't think my fragile ego could continue to thump away, but a nod from a stranger or an anonymous thumbs up carry a raw honesty that's like striking oil.
So, while the wonderful texts and messages give me a glow, somewhere deep down, I can't help wondering how much of the support comes from a desire for me to succeed and how much is pure admiration for what I writ.
I want to be very, very clear here, I'm not de-valuing the support of friends or relatives, I'm merely suggesting that by the very nature of being a friend or a relative their beautiful desire for my success colours their objectivity.
If we therefore consider the opinion of a stranger to be weighted heavier than that of a near and dear, the derision of an unknown leaves the aforementioned fragile ego reeling.
The column I submitted to is a bit Pop Idol (the original and still the best) in that readers are asked to text a vote of "more" if they like it or "bore" if they don't.
My final score then, as printed the next day, was 50%/50% and can you imagine what that result as done to me?
On the one hand at least one person (I know, because they told me) gave a vote of "more" (thank you buddy) but on the other it means that someone I don't know was bothered to vote me a "bore", which obviously skews the result given the weighting theory.
I did my own research on the way home, vainly scanning the tube carriage for someone reading it (vain as in vanity, shame on me) and yes, in fact, there was one. She appeared to have easily digested the other content and was happily scraping the literary barrel with my nonsense, she was even smiling, which I think counts to unofficially tip the scales and means it probably wasn't her voting me off.
Elsewhere though, someone was forcing their way through it and reaching for their mobile as they scanned the final titter with a stoney face. It is then that person, the (I presume only based on the probably amount of positive votes) one person who so loathed my middle of the road writing as to spend money expressing their dislike, to whom I'd like to speak.
And I would listen, once I'd got over my hurt pride, and take note of their critique.
Well, I would if they had anything intelligent to say, which I doubt.
However...
It's never the people you know who's praise you crave. Don't get me wrong their praise is always so gratefully appreciated and without it I don't think my fragile ego could continue to thump away, but a nod from a stranger or an anonymous thumbs up carry a raw honesty that's like striking oil.
So, while the wonderful texts and messages give me a glow, somewhere deep down, I can't help wondering how much of the support comes from a desire for me to succeed and how much is pure admiration for what I writ.
I want to be very, very clear here, I'm not de-valuing the support of friends or relatives, I'm merely suggesting that by the very nature of being a friend or a relative their beautiful desire for my success colours their objectivity.
If we therefore consider the opinion of a stranger to be weighted heavier than that of a near and dear, the derision of an unknown leaves the aforementioned fragile ego reeling.
The column I submitted to is a bit Pop Idol (the original and still the best) in that readers are asked to text a vote of "more" if they like it or "bore" if they don't.
My final score then, as printed the next day, was 50%/50% and can you imagine what that result as done to me?
On the one hand at least one person (I know, because they told me) gave a vote of "more" (thank you buddy) but on the other it means that someone I don't know was bothered to vote me a "bore", which obviously skews the result given the weighting theory.
I did my own research on the way home, vainly scanning the tube carriage for someone reading it (vain as in vanity, shame on me) and yes, in fact, there was one. She appeared to have easily digested the other content and was happily scraping the literary barrel with my nonsense, she was even smiling, which I think counts to unofficially tip the scales and means it probably wasn't her voting me off.
Elsewhere though, someone was forcing their way through it and reaching for their mobile as they scanned the final titter with a stoney face. It is then that person, the (I presume only based on the probably amount of positive votes) one person who so loathed my middle of the road writing as to spend money expressing their dislike, to whom I'd like to speak.
And I would listen, once I'd got over my hurt pride, and take note of their critique.
Well, I would if they had anything intelligent to say, which I doubt.
posted by Paul Seymour at 11:10 AM
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