Like many creators, I don’t like to share what I’m doing until I think I’ve honed it to perfection (as if there’s such a thing.) Not to my editor, not to my loved ones. I write slowly because I edit as I go, hoping to turn in the cleanest copy I can possibly manage. Nobody can look at my work while it’s still in play.
The other day we were watching an episode of Station Eleven, and it hit so hard. The episode was focused on a married couple – the husband an actor, the wife a writer. She’d been working on a graphic novel for the entirety of their relationship, but she’s never let him or anyone read it. Their marriage implodes when the husband allows his soon-to-be mistress to go into the wife’s studio and read the unfinished book. Upon discovering his betrayal, the wife sets her studio on fire, burning the only copy of her work that exists, and walks out.
It was such a moving image for me, because I completely understood her feeling. So much of writing is pulling our own feelings out and splashing them onto the page in a way that threatens to reveal more about ourselves than we might be ready to acknowledge. The emotions of our characters come from deep inside us, and when we get them right, we also feel those same sorrows and betrayals and joys along the way. Putting them out into the world for all to see requires a little emotional armor, something that takes time to build. Until the story is done, that armor isn’t complete, so the work has to be protected, in order to keep the artist from harm.
I belonged to a critique group some years ago, one that had been together a long time and had built a lot of trust. Even so, I will never forget the night my group decided to reveal to me that I’d made an awful mistake in character development that was keeping my protagonist from feeling real and alive. I cried all the way home, absolutely convinced that I should give up writing for good. But when I reached a state of calm, and could think about the reality of what they’d said, I knew they were right. So I rebuilt my armor, and dove into the work, and ended up with a published book.
You don’t have to share what you’re writing until you’re ready. In fact, I recommend not. Build your armor so that when the day arrives, you can show what you’ve made to the world without fear. I believe in you, and you can believe in yourself, too.