Few professions require people to expose themselves the way writers do. Sometimes, like now, knowing my newest manuscript should have arrived at the publishers for review, I think posing in a skimpy bikini might be easier than allowing someone else to judge my writing. At least in the bathing suit I would be judged by physical standards, things I can change. But in my writing...well that's me. I can't write without infusing part of my soul into the work.
Maybe that's why, as a writer, I find taking criticism to be as easy as eating Brussels sprouts--not only do they taste bad, but they smell bad, too. When someone likes my writing, that person likes me, because I am part of the writing. And when they don't like my writing...maybe that's why family members don't make very good critics--they have to live with us after all.
And revisions? Revising a manuscript is like taking a deep look inward, facing the parts of you that you don't like, and having the courage to cast them aside. It hurts.
But writers do it. I do it.
I'm not sure. Perhaps it has something to do with holding that novel in my hands, my name across the front. Or reading that one review that says I did something right. Whatever that something is, it drives me to keep writing, to keep baring my soul...
And, as I move the mouse to click the "publish" button, to keep wishing I had chosen to model bikinis.