As a writer, you spend thousands of hours pouring words onto a page or screen. Ideas are born, full of promise and excitement. You grow and change with each character. Together you encounter a full range of problems, from tiny bumps to impassable mountains. When tears roll down their cheeks, your tears follow suit. Heart in throat, you wait by their side as their last breath falls from still lips. After 'The End', you discover that you've become someone richer in experience than the person you were before it all began.
To share that with others, especially others whose goal it is to point out your scars and imperfections, is frightening. It is opening yourself--and your new friends--to attack, no matter how well-intentioned your attacker. It is lowering your defenses in the hopes that the arrows will serve to build you up rather than fatally wound. You make yourself vulnerable. Vulnerability is unnatural for us.
In many ways, this feedback process is like falling in love. It is delivering your beating heart on a platter and hoping it returns safely--that they love in return. It is trusting that the other person has only the best intentions, only the purest motives. It is the hope that they are skilled in architecture and demolish only what they must in order for us to rebuild stronger and more complete.
There is such great and awful responsibility in love and art.
Maybe you don't write and you find it difficult to relate to my illustration because of that. That's okay. I think it still applies to many of our passions, not only the crafting of sentences. Do what you do with love, because of love. Accept the help of others with love. Extend your hand to others with truth and compassion.
Making yourself vulnerable and opening your heart to others is scary. Sometimes you'll bleed and wish you'd kept your shield tucked tight around your chest. At other times, bringing others alongside you on the journey reveals unspeakable beauty. The joy is nearly always worth the splinters along the way.