This year I’ve set myself up with quite a few goals to accomplish. Majority of them are art related and involve taking a lot of risks. I applied for an internship position at my local gallery and I’m working on a project proposal for the city’s Art festival in October. So far, things seem to be going at a pace that I’m happy with, but one thing happened last semester that I never really spoke about.
The writing piece I posted entitled Just With Words was actually an assignment for my publication’s class. I posted on here to have some feedback before I handed it in to my editor. Not too long after, my professor sat me down and told me the piece was misogynistic, ablest and had Judeo Christian undertones– of which I had no intention of including. I started crying right there in the classroom as she told me. So I rewrote the piece by critiquing and defending my use of cliches, generalizations and idioms.
I wanted to post that new piece here today, because I found out recently that my work would not be published in the class’ book. Apparently, the essay reflects -although edited- my lack of engagement in the course. I felt awful for a good long time until I realized that this is the world if writing. I considered how many people ripped Stephenie Meyer to shreds because she wrote Twilight, and the celebrity that blinds us when it comes to deciding what is good writing; for example J.K Rowling and her penname for Cukoo’s Calling. I’m still painfully disheartened that my work would not be included, especially since my editors choose to not acknowledge me or invite to the books publication party. What’s worse is the fact that I have mutual friends with these people and I sit beside and listen to them rip everything and anything to shreds.
I’m telling you this because if it were still last year, I would have sat there and allowed myself to be ignored and belittled. I would allow these editors to decide whether or not my work was excellent or utter bullshit, but this year I can’t do that. This year, I’m not going to stand back and allow them to spew their criticism all over my hard work. I won’t allow anyone to take me back to the days where I didn’t like myself. As long as I put effort and my heart and soul into what I’ve done than I know I’ve done my best.
This year, I may not be published in my class’s final publication.
But perhaps next year, I’ll be published in a better one.
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