Sometimes I say things I shouldn't say, as words are capable of hurting someone else's feelings.
I thought about deleting the post that hurt someone. I thought also about deleting this entire blog. Or restricting access. Or just not publishing it on the web. In the end, here's this post today.
Everyday we all have to have some sort of self-censorship filter in our head, in not saying what first comes out of our head. Those words are often too raw, too unprocessed, too unedited, as well as complex and easily taken out of context.
It's like one going out to eat some hay -- our bodies aren't meant to process such raw food (whereas a horse has no problem). The minds of our loved ones (and our dear Readers) aren't able to process these raw ingredients. That's why we need editors (or editing time) and self-censorship. No one likes a barrel of benzene. But we sure like the paint work on our cars. Benzene is a horrible dangerous controlled substance. Paint is pretty neat.
In writing fiction, I as a serious author shouldn't be concerned too much at this stage about censoring what I write. It is part of my creative process -- I need to work with raw materials. One has a lump of clay, it's not art. Once the sculptor takes time and works on it, the idea in his/her mind takes shape and form and the raw clay turns into something else.
That something else can be grotesque or beautiful, it is all in the eye of the beholder at that point and will have many interpretations. Once the art is out of the artist's head, it is really no longer his. The idea will have become something else larger and more refined than the raw idea in his head. It may not even really look like the original idea. The editing of the writer and re-shaping of the sculptor are the similar processes, with communication and refinement the desired output. The desired output shouldn't be reflected back on the artist, as often the artist will forgo his/her interpretation for art's sake. It's not meant to go back on the artist.
So dear Reader, take everything here with a grain of salt. There's a lot of raw material here. Some of it is spoiled meat, some of it will go on to become cat/dog food, some of it will go to the 5-star hotel for dinner, etc. I get excited that I even have any raw materials some days, as it has been hard for me, a struggle to get this raw material and ideas to come out and work. The clay I am working with seems a bit dusty and needs more water. But right now it is all I can afford.
My creativity is rusty and dusty too, and the raw materials that come from its "suppliers" are in short supply -- winter blues, work blues, other issues and worries unrelated to writing affect the "suppliers" too. My mind is a terrible thing to waste, but I feel I am losing things everyday. This is a scary feeling, so don't be too hard on me at this time. And forgive my transgressions of bad wording and spilt raw materials. I'll try to be more surgical here -- stick to discussions on progress reporting and re-invention schemes and less raw. You won't see any more blood here at least. Sweat and tears maybe, but no more blood. Enough analogies??
From now on -- less raw material and more refined thoughts. Sculptures closer to finishing instead of lumps of clay. Clean hard work the edited version for You, dear Reader. Because now I understand, the raw soup is too hot to handle. I'll post only once a week, instead of everyday. Probably on Fridays, as it is my usual progress report day.
I'm leaving everything as is now, as I feel I've learned a lesson from it. Maybe others will too. Thanks for reading and see you next week.
