dr. allen: you submitted the script to die hard ii; see me after class

Okay, so... I just had a shocking realization that I'm sure nothing could prevent from greatly affecting my creative life. And I'm feeling quite the plethora of emotions right now that I never even thought possible and to explain what is happening in my brain right now is impossible so I'll just try to illustrate the background.

I just read Last Minute, a play I wrote in 2003 that was later produced on stage that same year for a One-Act Play Festival at Oxford/Emory. The play was a comedy, shown alongside two others that in fact two of my closest friends had written themselves; the show was a relative success, the performance was great, and it was the first time I'd been granted a large audience for my writing.

But this has nothing to do with the performance. It has everything to do with my attitude toward writing and how it's taken an absolute departure from what it once was. The play is funny, to be sure. But it's not that funny. I mean, it's less plot-driven than it is an exercise in sarcastic jokes and postmodern self-reference.

And the next year, I tried a turn at writing a more dramatic play, one of the "pain of the unrequited", something I had been burying myself in at the time. This play, called Crash Site, was also selected for the annual festival, and again, people loved it. And the performances given were some of the best I'd ever seen in my life, especially my best friend as a character rather obviously based on myself. Of course, the last time I read it, I couldn't help but noting how hackneyed and confusing it is.

At least, that's what I thought.

But what of the audiences? People loved both of them. And did I think they were awful when I wrote them? Of course not. In fact, it's now, reading something I'd written five years ago, that I realize it's not awful at all. Sure, it's not my best writing, but it's funny, it's interesting, it's much more cerebral than I remember it. And I'll probably have similar feelings reading Crash Site again.

I haven't written anything in the past two years. Nothing substantial, anyway. And I didn't realize until this moment the reason why. I've been scared. A lot. Of something I never thought I would be, criticism. I've had two plays produced, little but positive acclimation for the short stories and even the poetry I've written, and suddenly, I seize up with fear of allowing myself any creative ideas. I forget that to actually grow creatively, you're probably going to look back and see what you want to grow from. And for some reason, I've been looking at all my past writing and seeing crap, and rather than grow from that, I've been afraid I'll get worse. And why? I have no clue. But I need to stop being so fucking scared of myself and get to work, and I'm hopefully on track for that; after all, I'm clearly a genius and the world needs me.