The writer Takes His Pen...

The artist takes the stage...

The dynamic is bizarre. Compelled to create, like a boy imitating his Father, the artist now needs an audience. Herein lies a great fear that causes torment. Craving another's validation requires some form of presenting of the work once the work is finished. But what will someone else think, say, do?

It is not as if the artist can clock out at the end of their shift and leave the job behind both physically and mentally. The WORK is part of them.

But in another sense, the WORK is seen by the artist objectively, as if totally alien and outside themselves. The artist likes the work the same as if someone else had produced it. It certainly explains the feeling during the process of creation called inspiration. Spirit breathed from outside, the work begs to be created.

But, until a certain moment, the artist is the only one that has seen it; heard it; felt it; smelt it; tasted it.

What will someone else think of it? What will their reaction be to it?

It hurts that there might be rejection, or worse. A generic "that's nice" can tear deep wounds that leave scars.

So the risk is too much, yet...

The artist knows that the creation is not normal. It must mean something. The process that brought about the creation was too vivid. It prodded him to completion. Once the work was complete, the driving muse seemed satisfied, at least for now.

So, risk not withstanding, the work must be shown to someone else.

Be gentle with these dear artistic souls.

Unless, of course they suck!

Love someone well today,

Bobby