Feb. 24th, 2010

axeslade: (dallying)
So just went and changed my major from English to Human Services.

I was afraid that I'd meltdown afterwards. But instead I feel strangely liberated.

Now, having a 'real' major to fall on...I don't have to worry about if my writing will sell, not as much. And I think that's what's been hanging me up for awhile. Whenever I've started something recently, I find myself thinking 'would anyone buy this?'. I'd stopped writing for myself, for the characters who came for me. And I find that disgusting.

I know there are some people for whom writing (even fiction) is just a paycheck. There is no deeper meaning for them. And that's fine, really. But for me, writing was always as close to religion as I got. When it worked, I did feel myself touching something deeper. I went into places within myself I couldn't tap in any other way. I'm not going to say it was like touching/speaking to God/dess for various reasons, but I will say that I did feel like I was in commune with something more intelligent/compassionate than many things on Earth.

And worrying about a paycheck? Feels like I'm betraying that entity and the characters it brings to me. It trusts me with these people, to tell their stories they way they were, and warping them because the general public would accept certain aspects...that's pretty damn close to sacrilege for me.

So. Having a small guarantee that I can get a paycheck without betraying someone? Yeah, that's nice.
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A most peculiar mademoiselle

January 2011

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