And that’s a lot of hair, that much hair takes a long time to take care of, and I am an exceptionally lazy person. You might be wondering what that has to do with being an insecure writer, but I’m getting there.
|lots of hair!|
So, when I finally convinced myself to get out of bed, I also decided, if I was too lazy to wash/brush my hair, it was too long. So I called the Aveda institute, and asked if they had any cancelations, made an appointment, walked in and said, “Cut 14 inches off”. Why 14 inches? Well, because 10 is the minimum to donate, I figure at least a few of those extra four inches are damaged, or shorter than the rest, because the only person who had cut my hair, for the last two years, was me, and I’m not even a beauty school dropout. History degrees aren’t worth much in general, let alone worth anything that makes you qualified to cut hair.
After the student stylist cut the fourteen inches off, gave them back to me to mail to locks for love, she asked me what I wanted to do with my now shoulder length hair. I told her, do whatever she thought would look good, as long as it would be easy to take care of (see lazy person). So she did something with layers and bangs, and blow dried my hair.
I’m exceptionally happy, for many reasons, mostly because it took me like five minutes to wash my hair this morning, rather than the thirty it used to take. But then, there is another unexpected side effect. Cutting fourteen inches of hair off made me really love my hair. I mean, I always loved my hair; you would have to for it to get that long. It was a good color and a good texture, and for the most part cooperative, and I would get compliments on it. Yet, I apparently was letting it have a bad effect on the way I viewed myself, and I didn’t even know it. Mostly because introspective is on the long list of things I suck at, right between able to hold still and grace.
I think as people (yes writers are people too, mostly) we all have things we are insecure about. Things that don’t make us feel great, or even okay about ourselves, superficial silly things. Like weight, and our noses, and our sixth toe on our right foot. Too often I read fiction where the main character is pretty/beautiful/thinks she’s average looking but has like four guys fighting over her (Hunger Games I’m looking at you), or the near cliché of the mean girl being blond and beautiful. Maybe I should stop reading Young Adult fiction…or maybe we can use this to make ourselves better writers, and maybe we will get to the point where our Main Characters can actually be average looking. Or maybe not.
You heard me right, use your insecurities! Or at least give them to your characters. Perhaps your friends keep telling you that you look like a drug addict because your too skinny, but when you look in the mirror you see a fat person...I’m not saying that’s healthy, that actually might be obsessively insecure, but that’s a real human issue, and if you give it to your characters maybe they can become real humans too. It will be like that scene in Pinocchio when he becomes a real boy…except it’s a bit harder than waving a magic wand around.
I’m not saying it’s easy. But what I am saying is that insecurity is part of being human, writing characters is part of being a writer, human characters help make you a good writer.
So, what are you insecure about?
Insecure Writers Group Its awesome. There are so many great writers out there, and great blogs to check out, and its still growing.