On Subjectivity

Art is subjective, I know. Talent is as well. I write, paint, recreate furniture, and create things. Some come out good; some not so good. All in all, it's very rewarding and frustrating at the same time. I don't like subjectivity. But, then again, I do. I care if you like my work, but I don't care. I care if you like me, but I also don't give a crap.


All I know is I work hard to be creative - to make things. Yet, I often feel there is no reward for my efforts. I wonder if all I'm looking for is financial reward. People sing their praises of my work. "It's fantastic." "We love it." "It's so beautiful." "I read it - it's amazing." And my favorite: "This is totally going to sell." But when that piece (of work) doesn't sell, and I have to stare at it in my garage, in my living room or on my hard drive, I wonder about this subjectivity thing and how bad it sucks.


How can twenty people think something is so brilliant and one person (the person who needs to like it) not? I'm seriously frustrated. And it's not with writing. I'm not submitting work all over the place and getting rejections. You'd think that was the case by how frustrated I am. The one biggest person in the way of my writing is me. I have this beautiful YA fiction book that I pulled from submission because that one person who doesn't agree on its artistry is me. It's not good enough...for me. Art is subjective. Others love the book. To steal a line from Mark Darcy in Bridget Jones's Diary, "Just as it is". But I don't love it just as it is. Therein lies the problem. There's always something to do, somewhere to go, something to fix. Subjectivity gets in the way of my own talent.


I get on Facebook, which I have a serious love/hate relationship with, and see everyone's wonderful lives, and think, "God, if I could just sell everything I create, I could have that pool, too. I could go on vacation. I could pay for my kids' braces." But I don't sell everything I make. And I blame it on subjectivity. Subjectivity is my scapegoat on my good days. On my bad days, I just think my work sucks.


I don't want to end up a talentless nobody, but I don't want to be a mediocre sell-out. This is what holds me back. I want to be awesome. I want my work to be awesome. I don't like "ok". I don't need the pats on the back or the recognition for my ego - it's not an ego thing. It's more of an accomplishment thing. Or a contribution thing. It's like, "I offered my talent to the world and the world accepted it. Subjectivity aligned with my talents." Or maybe it all comes down to luck.


I had talent the other day when I helped a teen with her writing skills. There was reward in that. I had talent when I wrote a business piece for a company. There was reward in that. I had talent when I crafted an angry email to a company I was super pissed at for reasons I shall not discuss. HaHa. I had talent when I made up a story for my 10-year-old daughter. There was major reward with that. I finished a piece of furniture - an old school desk. It's lovely. Will it sell? Who knows. I love it and so do my kids and so does my husband. There is reward in that. Selling it will be a bonus. (And it will pay a medical bill if it does, relieving some stress in my life.) But it's subjective - someone will look at that desk, skim the picture and click on to the next item unimpressed. Hopefully, the next person will linger on the picture a little longer and decide which room will work best for the little desk.


And writing...

So many projects going at the same time. The fiction, non-fiction, memoir and magazine pieces are all in the works. Only two of these are actually in the submission process. I hope these will be read with less subjective eyes, especially the non-fiction proposal as this is my "baby". This is real life stuff that will make a difference in the world. This will change lives. Although, changing lives is subjective and relative.

Here we go again.



#subjectivity