I can be pretty self-conscious. I know, that seems like it isn’t true, but trust me it is. It is a strange kind of self-consciousness, too, because it isn’t so much that I worry about what other people think of me (although I do), it is more that I worry about if I’m offending and hurting other people. I think there is a good possibility that this has an adverse affect on my writing.
Despite all appearances, I do actually censor myself most of the time.
I just think I’m really, really bad at it.
I think there is a good possibility that when I am self-censoring that what I’m really doing is cutting out the parts that are witty, humorous and ironic and leaving behind the depraved rantings of a delusional madman.
Maybe I’m giving myself too much credit. Maybe all I really have are the depraved rantings of a delusional madman.
Still, I think that sometimes I get in my own way and I tell myself that if I say this or that, I might offend someone, or worse let my mom find out that I’m actually a juvenile delinquent, despite my age.
I think this is what holds me back more than anything else as a writer. I self edit. I change my own language to sound less, well, Midwestern and more Worldly, really.
The thing is, I am Midwestern.
I am a Missourian.
I am a Kansas Citian. (Which I want pronounced Kan*sas*See*shan)
I am also vulgar, emotional, and offensive.
These aren’t necessarily good attributes, but they are my attributes.
I need to learn to embrace them a bit better.
To hell with what the world thinks.
(Yes, Dad, I know that you’ve been saying that for the better part of 30 years now. See, I do eventually learn something.)