Creativity vs. Ego

I am, by nature, a creative person. This has manifested itself in many different forms over the years, the main one being in writing (duh). I can't remember whether or not I've mentioned this before, but I have actually written several books over the past few years -- when I was 14/15 I wrote a fantasy trilogy. Well, okay, I quit three-quarters of the way through the third book (heartbreaking, isn't it?), but it still counts because I wrote - overall - over 270,000 words worth of fantasy fluff which - to put in perspective - is the size of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and then some. So that was quite a project, and it took me about two years to write and six months to send it off to a bunch of agencies, collecting some rejections and some positive feedback, but not what I was subconsciously expecting - a however-many-novels-you-choose-to-scribble book deal.

My ego bruised, I moved on to another writing project - this one a little more original and mature and a little less plagiaristic (is that a word, do we think?). This, being a stand-alone novel and not a trilogy, took me a little under a year and was roughly 130,000 words long at it's peak (about 30,000 words bit the editing dust). I've spent the past few months sending that off, and have yet to receive anything other than the rejections I'm growing remarkably accustomed to.

However, this constant battering of my confidence did eventually have an effect. I had what I think I'm big enough to admit was a temper-tantrum with writing, and decided that I'd had enough. I wasn't going to write any more books. Articles yes, blogs yes (though I realise that the frequency of evidence kind of stamps on my point there), essays yes (unfortunately), but no more novels. If the world wasn't going to fall at my feet and worship my unparalleled writing superiority then it could bloody well get lost.

I reached this distinctly stroppy conclusion a month or so ago, but quickly ran into an obstacle in my newfound resolution. Writing a book is incredibly time-consuming, which meant that after more than three years of spending my free evenings writing, I suddenly had nothing to do. If I remember correctly, I lasted through about three evenings of mind-numbing television and staring at computer screens before I realised that this kind of lifestyle would send me round the twist. Several days after this, the restlessness in my brain's creativity-centre reached fever-pitch and - since this collided nicely with my discovery of the YouTube community and video-blogging - I had another epiphany. Writing or not writing, if I didn't find some king of creative outlet I was going to go mad. So I signed up to YouTube and started making/editing/uploading video blogs. My obsession lasted about a week, and then I realised that YouTube still wasn't quite satisfying my creative needs, so I spontaneously decided that I was going to teach myself how to play the guitar.

However, a few days later, I felt a story idea growing in my mind - one I had been considering before my tantrum, and one which suddenly seemed to slide into a definable, exciting shape. Before I realised what I was doing, I had scribbled out a brief synopsis for another trilogy. That was okay though, I told myself - I was allowed one slip after my initial determination to abandon writing faded. But then, one late and boring evening, I found myself opening a word document and scribbling out a beginning to the story I had sketched out the previous day. There was no point denying it any more.

And eventually I realised; I can't run away from writing any more than I can run away from being cynical, or sarcastic, or honest, or moody. It's just a part of who I am, and however many bashes my ego endures, or rejections I receive, or hissy-fits I throw, it's never going to change the fact that I am in love with / obsessed with / addicted to writing.

So whilst my tantrum had it's benefits - I now have good fun making YouTube videos and the will to finally learn to play the guitar - it was, ultimately, pointless. I am returning to my homeland of Writing, and know it will welcome my back with open arms.