Late Night Confessions of the Insecure Writer

So remember when I confessed to making up superstitions back at the beginning of the month? Yeah, so this whole thing has come back around. For some reason, I keep wrestling with insecurity over my writing. This is a long, on going problem with me and I'm not really sure what to do about it. On the one hand, it may be that all I need is an editor. On the other, perhaps I need a psychologist. I don't know why my inner demons seemed to have suddenly transferred themselves to my writing but they have. And today they beat me up in a pretty interesting way.

 

First of all, I cast an actor (well I cast more than one for this story, but I'm only having problems with the one.) Now sometimes I cast an actor in the part, once I cast a minor league hockey player. That was a good choice, the actor, not so much. Because now he is haunting my work telling me he'd never work on this drivel, there isn't enough money in the world. Now I know consciously this is my inner editor rearing her ugly head. And at the moment she's a middle aged English dude with an attitude, which makes her harder to deal with. (And extremely funny as she spouts off English lingo faster than I can keep up, so nice to know my alter ego has a foul mouth too.) But this is really bugging me because I can't shut him/her up.

 

I know, you're all going to ask, is this actor known for these antics? I can honestly say, I don't know and I don't care. I don't research actors beyond the work I've seen them in. I don't really care what they are like on set, I had enough of that when I was an actor. When I walked away from that world, and let me be clear I was a lousy amateur with an offer from my college program which was pretty good actually and many of those people got parts on TV and in movies that were being filmed in the area (over four southern states), I did so consciously to pursue a business degree and hopefully become a lawyer. I'm now a stay-at-home mom so perhaps being a failed actor would have made me more at peace with the whole mommy thing. I'll never know. And I loved acting, costuming, props, rehearsal, working behind the scenes and being on stage. I loved being on stage, it was hard to walk away and even harder to let my girls play around with it. When actors talk about getting bit by the acting bug, I get it. I miss it with every fiber of my being. But I have to say from that world, I only ever got one real friend.

 

I HATED actors. I mean not all of them, of course. But it just never seemed to fail that the pretty boy or girl with chops was a pain in the ass. Every hair had to be in place, the lines from everyone else had to be perfect. They agonized over every little detail. And this is what made them good, but it made me miserable-ish. So I don't want to know if he's a nice guy or a prick. I can't really separate my feelings for who he is from his work. And it's not just him. I don't watch certain people anymore at all because I don't like them. Sean Penn, Mel Gibson, Katherine Heigl, and the list goes on.

 

The truth was, I walked away because it didn't challenge my mind the way I wanted it too. Now perhaps this is a flaw on my part, not wanting to traverse in the world of emotions and bringing truth to character, moment, work. Or maybe it's just a sign I was never meant to be an actor. But some days not being an actor hurts, even though I haven't been a real part of a production in almost twenty years.

 

So maybe this inner critic is mixed up with that. Perhaps I'm jealous of his talent, his work, his seeming success. Some of his roles have been down right iconic, so perhaps I feel like I haven't executed his character well enough, haven't done enough for him. Or perhaps it's just my relentless drive to be better. I have no idea. I can't get an editor to return anything, to tell me what I'm doing wrong. My critique partners don't tell me what they see wrong, they just fill up my manuscripts with red ink and rewrite my sentences. They give me no plot feed back or anything. So I don't think that after so many years it's strange for me to feel so lost.  But I can handle it if it's ME saying it. I know how to deal with me. I've been living with me all my life. But now me has morphed into this guy and I have no idea how to deal with him, or even if I want to deal with him. So I'm uncasting him to finish so I can go back to enjoying his work in peace. I'll miss you dear actor. I've loved the month we spent together, but you're just not doing it for me anymore. I'm sorry if this hurts your feelings, but I'm pretty sure you don't know I exist.

 

Love,

 

Melanie