A few days ago I met some friends at the Daily Grind for an impromptu writing workshop. We sat on benches pulled up to rickety wooden tables and responded to writing prompts, pens scribbling feverishly for 10 minutes at a time. Then we each read aloud. After I was done reading my friend said, "That was good. That was really good."
Like a needle to the vein, it was just the fix I craved, the fix I always crave. I could feel the warmth rush through my body. Somewhere in the dark recesses of my brain there was a whispered voice, "She likes it. It is good. You are good." For a moment, there was complete satisfaction, peace, joy. Immediately the pleasure started to recede. It wasn't long before I was craving another fix.
I asked my friend not to respond this way because it feeds my addiction. I imagine myself responding to blank stares after I read. I know that I will read this as disapproval. I will fill in the blanks: "It stinks. She hates it. I am a crappy writer." It feels like a no-win situation.
As I was writing my morning pages this morning I asked for guidance, as if the page was a wise old oracle. There was an immediate response: "Spend time alone with your writing. Develop an intimate relationship. Let no one come between you and your writing."
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