Grammar Be Damned
I am a terrible writer. Not for a lack of grammatical prowess nor a basic grasp of syntax, but because I am a big, fat scaredy-cat suffering from severe self-delusion. I’m so terrified of sharing my work. I’m terrified of putting anything out into the world if it isn’t what I consider perfect, which is ridiculous because what I deem perfect someone else might still rip to shreds. And that’s what I’m afraid of. The thing is, I read a lot of blogs, opinions, even newsletters that are so bad. Punctuation errors abound, capitalization is a travesty, and don’t even get me started on the grammar. I once picked up a copy of a local magazine that I used to enjoy flipping through, and right there, on the cover, they transposed “their” and “there.” I haven’t picked up the magazine since. And that judgment of other’s work is nothing compared to how I judge my own (for example, I’m going to stress for hours about whether it was a good idea to begin this sentence with “And.”). I feel like if I’m going to judge the work of others so harshly then my own had better be spot on.
Yet the people writing these posts and articles that demonstrate only the most basic grasp of the written word are still putting themselves and their ideas out into the world, out into the universe. By that simple act, who knows what may come of it? Another writer, a producer, a playwright could see it and say, “hmmm. Not much of a writer but what a great idea.” That scenario is probably unlikely; if I had to guess I’d say most of the aforementioned professionals are as put off by sloppy proofreading (or complete lack of proofreading) as I am. But perhaps we should all reserve judgment just a little; or at least try to scale it back. There is a reason for that favorite cliché of talent seekers the world over — “a diamond in the rough.” We’ve all heard their stories so we know they’re out there*. Perhaps when we assess something too harshly we overlook the gem beneath the soot.
It occurs to me that, had I been his contemporary, I would have hated William Shakespeare. The Master of Masters, The Bard, the man whose work has literally permeated not only every form of art and literature, but every corner of the globe. The man for whom I traipsed all over London just to stand in the places where he lived, where he worked, where his remains rest to this very day. A man whose influence has been so vast that, had he not existed, the world would be a very, very different place. And I would have given him shit because he invented words (lots of them — look it up).
Granted, Will was a playwright, not a novelist; his works were meant for actors to bring to life, not for a reader’s imagination. If I remember correctly, reading his plays didn’t come into fashion until several decades after his death when all of those fabricated words would have been commonplace. Still, I probably would have been the ass-hat at the Globe, watching The Merchant of Venice**, wondering what the hell green eyes had to do with anything.
I have a feeling this little rant is going to make me sound like a bit of a lunatic. But aren’t we all a little more looney these days? And I do have a point; I have the terrible habit of talking about writing far more than actually writing. A lot of that is due to the aforementioned fear that what I put out may be considered pure crap. But I believe it was Stephen King who said something to the effect of, “if you wait for inspiration, you may someday be a decent poet, but you’ll never be a novelist.” Well, I’m a terrible poet and tired of being a big scaredy-cat. Fortunately, a little inspiration is pretty easy to find if you look for it; this little gem is helping me change my perspective. In a nutshell, Mr. Wignall, author of the article in the link, tells us that part of the key to emotional intelligence is to suck it up and get the hell over it. I figure it’s worth a shot. Given I’ve contributed nothing to this blog in years — not to mention the others that I’ve abandoned completely — getting over myself seems like a good first step. I hope some of you will check in with me on my journey. I’m taking a stab at not overly editing, just searching and creating. So feel free to comment, even if it’s bad, and I’ll try to go a little easier on all of those uncut diamonds out there.
*I was so tempted to intentionally jumble they’re/their/there. I thought it would be funny and a good way to start “getting over myself.” Yeah, I’m not their yet. Baby steps.
**The Merchant of Venice is where he coined “green-eyed monster” to describe envy. This ends today’s Shakespeare Trivia.
