Gifts

Have you ever been told that you're gifted at something and all you could do was laugh because of how thoroughly you disagreed with the complimentor?

Have you ever been told that you should keep practicing something or doing something because it effects the people around you?


Have you ever given something up because people said you were good at it?

I've had all three of those things happen.  So it sounds like I'm totally tootin' my own horn.  But I'm really not.  Lately, I've been really frustrated by my writing ability.  When I write a story, it's guaranteed that I'll be lacking scene or it'll have too little dialogue or I'll have too much thought rather than actual story.  I have had people offer to publish some of my stuff but I really can't just bring myself to let them because I firmly believe that it isn't my best work.  

This is kind of how I've been my whole life.  My parents always used to call me a jack of all trades and master of none.  It's because every time I started getting really good at something, I quit.  I was a concert pianist level musician when I quit taking lessons because I didn't want to play for people.  I quit directing plays when I finally directed my personal best.  I didn't want to keep on because I didn't want the attention (I got over 300 roses for one show once... bugged the hell out of me - threw 'em all away).  I quit violin because I was getting good and I didn't want to keep being asked to play for things.  I quit baking when I won a baking contest.  The list goes on and on.  I always quit things when I start getting recognition for my abilities.

I'm not sure what it is and it sounds like I'm asking for praise right now.  Like I'm asking to hear someone tell me they love reading my blog.  I die laughing when people say they like my blog.  Unless they point to a specific post that is meant to be funny and is funny and say it's funny.  That's about it.   


I once played at a piano recital - "Joy To The World."  It was an intensely awesome arrangement of the song.  I had a cast on my wrist and still played (played violin in the same recital... I just had to twist my cast to hold my hand in the right place).  After the recital, a woman came up to me with tears in her eyes because of how powerful the piece was when I played it and the emotion I communicated through the piano.  That was the last Christmas recital I ever played.  I played one more recital in my life and only because my parents forced me because I had been excessively rude to my teacher.


My point is, I kind of am a jack of all trades at this point.  I can do anything I put my mind to but want to always be in the background.  Maybe that's why I like writing.  You can't always put a face to writing.  And I think that's why I crave criticism of my writing because obviously all I can do is improve.  Pretty sure I couldn't get worse... And I really want to get better.  I do want to be published one day.  And I'll even let the publisher put my picture near my bio.