Thoughts on Monday afterwards
Translation from German by the author
Before I publish a text on Medium, I read it through several times. The first time after writing it, I assign words, correct typos, add commas where I need them or think I need them. Then a day goes by and I open the Word file with the text one more time. I always look forward to seeing my text again on the day after, to make it more colorful, more beautiful, more personal.
I read, correct, build up my thoughts, like a building, a house. If it seems too shaky, I try to make the individual parts of it stronger and firmer — through the expression, argumentation, intonation. I think about my texts every day and wonder even before I publish them whether anyone will be interested in them. Through this thought I already know what will come to me later, but I ignore it. I rarely let it spoil the fun of the text. When I’m done with the text, I give it to my boyfriend for proofreading. I am quite sensitive while he looks at the text. He corrects the mistakes and expresses his opinion on my thought construction. I try to distract myself meanwhile so as not to be too nervous. His thoughts on my textual building are important to me. If there are gaps in the building, I fill them in. I leave the text alone for a few days, like you leave dough for a few hours (with anticipation, expectation, and hope for the successful dish). Then Monday comes. I picked Monday as the day to publish.
'Deadline is my muse', said one Russian writer in one of her books.
Monday is my muse, my important day. On Monday, I choose an image from my analog photo archives, copy my text from Word into Medium, and hit the button ‘Publish’. I like the way the text appears in Medium. Black letters on a white background. My thought building is finished and becomes visible for the others. Ready to be read, the vernissage opens.
After the publication I am proud for a few moments that my thought building stands and the text may be read. I start thinking about the text and then this feeling comes — like a kind of weakness that suddenly overcomes me. My stomach gets all tense and even hurts sometimes. I know this feeling, I used to have it more often. When I, for example, had to present a paper at the uni, took part in a dance competition or simply performed in front of people. I know the strength of the feeling from the time as I did a performance or my video for an art exhibition was shown for the first time in the exhibition room. That silence, everyone is watching and you are alone in front of all of them. That’s fear, its particular variation, related to showing something or showing yourself. Thoughts, body, art — displaying what is important, letting people participate in it, letting them ‘into’ you. Showing oneself and not being able to read the reactions immediately. This particular variant of anxiety is like an attack of weakness. It has many symptoms and is accompanied (in relation to the publication of the text) by the following thoughts:
1. My text will surely not be read by anyone.
2. My text is not good, my thoughts are boring and bland, wrong.
3. The people who do read the text will be disappointed in me. They will think that I am stupid / untalented / boring / ? (add your variant).
4. My readers will stumble over the sentences and think that German (or English as this text is translated) is not my native language and that I should best not write in the foreign language at all. (This point is new. Self-racism — that’s what I call it. It came up again after my visit to the doctor, where a nurse asked me if I needed translation help after she looked at my insurance card, which had my super long four-syllable Russian last name on it.)
As a result, I want to delete the text immediately and destroy my house of thoughts that I had put on display. I devalue every sentence I uttered through the text, under the pressure of those negative thoughts hitting the walls of my text like hammers. I wonder if it will get better with time, if at some point I can throw away this hammer and just let the text be, let it exist in this Medium universe. If at some point I can leave it up to others to decide what they think of the text without getting emotionally involved. Whether I can ever be passive about the text after it is published. I wonder (somewhat annoyed, because this feeling makes me tired and exhausted) when I will finally stop caring whether my texts are read or not.
When I describe the thoughts listed above to my friend, he says a magic phrase: 'Write for yourself’.
This is the hardest thing of all. Of course, I don’t write for myself. I write for someone who will read my writing (hello Laura) because I want, despite the fear, for my writing to be seen.
The fear of people’s reaction is destructive to someone who wants to write or writes, who wants to paint or paints, who wants to create or creates. Last week a friend said to me that on the one hand he wants to show his artwork, but on the other hand he lets himself be numbed by the four thoughts described above. ‘What will people say when they see this? They’ll think I’m a stupid and bad artist, a clown’, he says to me. He paints beautiful things. And I’m sorry to hear about his fears. But I can understand them. We both have inhibitions about putting ourselves out there and push fear in front of us.
My fear is somewhere there inside me, it comes out on Monday after I see my name on Medium. I worry all the time about facing it and writing this text. From experience, fear never goes away until you face it. It appears with every publication, every appearance, every crowd of the unknown people you face whether real or online.
I feel relieved when the fear gone. And believe me, it will be gone right after the end of a performance, a client meeting, or a date. But after a text is published, it will persist. Because a digital text is more ‘erasable’ than a live performance or client meeting. Even if I can delete a video of my performance, the people who were there watching me will be able to remember it. Their memories will be indelible. Here, on Medium, I can press 'delete' at any time. And then what? Probably then comes the relief, which leads into a vicious circle: desire to write — publishing — fear phase — deleting.
Now it’s finished, my text about fear. And now, I fear less. Next Monday with the next text the fear will be there again but I will recognize it sooner and — if necessary — write another text about it or read this text again. This will be my method to not let myself be suppressed and to do what awakens the greatest freedom and the greatest fear in me right now — namely writing.
