I guess one of the troubles I have with receiving critiques of my own writing is that it has a tendency to dash my hopes. Oftentimes I am trying to elicit a certain emotional response from the reader, but some other details get in the way or the reader first feel invested enough yet.
If I were to try and diagnose the underlying weakness in my writing behind such difficulties, I would point to my high degree of introversion, though the manifestations of it in my writing may be manifold. For instance the surface explanation may be that I simply don't have the same emotional makeup as many if my potential readers and so what causes emotional distress in me is not what arouses the same in them. Crowds of people as small as a score can make me fairy uncomfortable, but some people thrive in such numbers.
It goes deeper than that, though. Certain situations can render me almost paralyzed with something between fear and anger, and I have rarely if ever handled these times in my life with grace. I have several friends who have expressed confusion (if only with their faces) over my paralysis in these situations. Perhaps it's only my perception but I feel I come across as something more animal than human in those moments.
The time between the above and this paragraph is the space of a few days, and considering I have seven minutes of my break left it's possible there will be another gap before this post is made.
In some of my free time I have been re-envisioning the work of my youth. Most of my free time is sent watching Sword Art Online, playing Guild Wars 2 and Facebook games, or reading Homestuck and theories thereof. There's food consumption in there somewhere but that's more of a part-time job than a way to spend my free time.
And as predicted it has been another few days. Honestly I should just post this before the year ends and this becomes even more of an incoherent mess. So here you go, a post in which I ramble.
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