Worrying About AcceptanceOk, I wrote this right after I wrote "Ravenous". It's an attempt to capture some of my nerves of publishing a story online in front of an audience that I don't really know.
I don't know how accurate my comments are about other people's blogs but, I do know that everyone I checked posted every day. Unlike me. Bum.
Oh and apologies for not mentioning everyone in the story. I haven't got around to reading everyone's blogs quite yet :S
He glanced down at the short story he had just written and wondered if he should really post it onto the site. "Ravenous" it was entitled. He had called it "Sick" and then "Wrong" but even though it seemed completely sick and wrong, neither of the titles really seemed apt. Ravenous, on the other hand, could be applied to the guy, to the raven or to the maggots. Or, he thought to himself, to the horribly insensitive and greedy doctors who had prescribed him his medicine rather than actually investigating his psychosis. Of course, that was 'insider' information that only the author would know, but still, that was what doctors did. Curing the illness whilst ignoring the patient.
So. Should he post it? Swiss Toni had said in his introduction email that any genre was welcome. Did he really mean any genre or was he just being polite? 'Christ', he thought, 'Stop over analysing and just post the damn thing. What's the worst they could say?'
He glanced at the mirror on his desk, at his reflection. 'Plenty', it replied. 'They could think you're a deviant with a twisted and warped imagination. At best, they could think you're a crap writer. Remember what you got in G.C.S.E English Language? B! What kind of writer gets a B in English Language?
'I need a coffee', he thought to himself and got up, ignoring his reflection's comments. In the bright glare of the kitchen, he mused upon the other authors that had joined the collaborative site, Reader-Meet-Author. He didn't know much about any of them, only gleaning items from their respective blog posts. The only ones he did know of and had read before were Swiss Toni (of whom he had had limited contact with already) and Aravis.
Aravis was a photographer/writer/artist, by the looks of things. Hell, she was a complete package of a creative person. He had skimmed her blogs one day and had been totally and utterly lost in the sea of creativity, like a shipwrecked sailor holding onto a log for dear life. Unlike him, she posted every single day and every single one was interesting and worth the read. His own blog, by comparison, read like a Christian Aid pamphlet shoved through a letter box and then dumped in the bin.
The kettle finally boiled and, as he made himself a Nescafe instant coffee, he wondered what his fellow authors were like. Did they post every day? Was he the only one who wasn't really committed to writing in his blog? The only one who wrote about such inconsistant trivialities that it made for a boring read? He sighed and walked back to the computer room, and to his reflection, his own personal tormentor.
He opened up the blog, checked the list of collaborative authors and decided to check out Spinsterwitch. 'Oh shit', he realised as he read her posts, 'it IS just me that doesn't post every day. FUCK!" He sat there stunned and raised his eyes up to the ceiling in a silent prayer, grimacing at himself. He continued to read through Spinsterwitch's post and sighed with worry at the part where she wrote "Why do we create horror?".
He clicked back on "Ravenous" and considered seriously pressing the delete button with the entire thing selected, contemplating Swiss Toni on the one hand stating that all genres were welcome and on the other, all those people who would read "Ravenous" and think "what a load of bollocks".
His finger rested on the enter button and slowly, ever so stomach-churning slowly, he pushed down. Post 100% Complete, the screen depicted. He stood up and got ready for work, trying not to think about the inevitable flurry of comments that would trash his story.