Why sharing your own writing is terrifying

On any given day, when I have a period of free time, I can most likely be found writing. I’m either typing away on my computer across a multitude of files or scribbling down ideas and snippets of scenes in my journal. Yet, whenever I’m asked my hobbies or forced to do an ice-breaker, I always leave that off my list of interests. Even admitting that I’m a writer, that I create works of fiction, feels like too much to share. What if they ask me what I write? What if they want to know more? I chose to say nothing, so I don’t have to elaborate at all.

I’ve had this mindset for many years, keeping the mere existence of my writing a secret. I recently pushed myself way out of my comfort zone when I  handed over a manuscript the size and weight of an old-school phonebook to my sister. I felt like I was putting my entire heart and soul into her hands. That novel has been my passion project for the past nine years, and I’ve only had myself to read, edit, revise and repeat. 

But, this summer, I finally decided it was time to pass it along to fresh eyes. I didn’t want to spend another decade working on the revision process alone. While I was excited to take this next step after finishing my draft, my angst about sharing my passion remained.

Sharing my writing made me feel vulnerable and exposed, even if it was only my sister who would be reading it. Those were all my constructed ideas, my developed characters, my conceptions of romance, drama and teenagehood laid out in black and white. It’s not that I’m not proud of my writing (well, most days), but I didn’t want to be embarrassed by what someone else thought of my book. Having someone else read the work of fiction I’ve been crafting for so many years made me feel exposed; like I was stripping away all my outer layers and facades and opening the door to this world that had only ever existed to just me.

Once my sister had completely read and edited my book, I only felt slightly different. It’s a great feeling to hear her talk about my characters and the scenes she liked, since I’ve never been able to discuss them with anyone else before. That doesn’t change how I still bristle when she brings up something I know sounded cringey. It also doesn’t change how defensive I get when she says my writing reminds her of another author she knows I don’t love. 

I think it’s worth acknowledging exactly how scary it can be to open yourself up to the world, or even one person, and let them into the mini universe that you built. Vulnerability can be a terrifying feeling, but when it comes to writing, I think that’s what makes creating and sharing these works so special.