Writing as an act of bravery

Slightly poncey, holier-than-thou headline today, but bear with me.

As some of you know, I’ve had a website for well over two years now, but for the most part, my blog has been nice and quiet.

I’m often asked if I “have a blog” or rather, having one, why I don’t use it, when it’s part of my website. In turn, I’ve come up with all sorts of vague, semi-true excuses such as lack of time, lack of inspiration or whatever sounded plausible at the time, but the real reason is far more basic. Fear, obviously. Fear of putting myself out there, fear of people judging both me and my writing and a certain fear of who might read my posts and what their reaction, if any, might be.

Whether we like it or not, writing lasts – it lasts far longer in people’s minds than your average conversation. When it comes to writing you have the privilege of taking your time, reading the words more than once, making them stick.

That said, some conversations have a tendency to stay with you as well and not always the nice ones – talking to an ex after a break-up some five years ago springs to mind (and if you read my previous blog post, you’ll realise 2010 probably wasn’t the best year for me, to put it mildly). Quite some time after breaking up I ran into said former partner, who casually commented in passing “I just read one of your features the other day – your writing was crap as always”.

Now, I don’t know any writers who are immune to criticism of our work, whether well-meant or not – in fact many of us are perhaps a bit too sensitive about it. What can I say? The comment hurt (and presumably that was the idea). There was a time in my early writing career when criticism could feel devastating and extremely personal, until suddenly one day, something shifted. Newsflash – not everyone was going to like my writing. And, what’s more, how incredibly boring if they did. How can you learn and grow as a writer (or as a person) if everyone always loves what you do, if there are no challenges along the way? Not all critics have valid points, but hey, it’s their time. If they want to spend it reading something they really don’t like or enjoy and then spend even more of their precious time and energy, venting about how much they didn’t like it, well, it’s their prerogative.  

To dare to write and publish, you have to dare being disliked – not just for your writing, but for anything that people choose to take issue with. You have to decide if you’re willing to take the risk of facing other people’s opinions and be ok with the consequences, even when it comes to something as personal as writing. Ultimately putting your writing “out there” for people to read, engage with, comment on, or criticise, is always an act of bravery. This fact is so often forgotten in the easily-accessible age of social media, chat rooms and forums, where you can hide behind a profile name and a “false” identity. Putting your own name to something you’ve written, despite the myriad publications out there and the large number of people wanting to get published, is ironically getting rarer. This year, after over two years of hesitation, I’m choosing to be braver and share more of my personal writing, as opposed to my travel writing. And this despite the fact that with a name like mine, I can’t exactly say “no that wasn’t me, I never wrote that”. As far as I know there are no other Anna Maria Espsäters lurking anywhere out there, whether in cyber space or real life. I’m the one and only and signing my name to my words, I have to “own” my writing and what I choose to share in this public space. It’s a scary process. Scary, but interesting. Scary, but inspiring. Scary, but creative.