Mebbe I Write Good?

I love words and music, so I'm usually in tune with folks from that side of the creative aisle, moreso than with the painters, photographers, and sculptors, etc. I tend to surround myself with creative people, it's very energizing to the soul.

I also don't think I have a lick of creativity in my pore tired old body. Hence the need to gain some culture by surrounding myself with "those who can".

Artists of any sort are usually their own worst critics.  I know songwriters, musicians (they're not always a combination in the same person) and writers of blogs, novels, short stories, and poetry.  They get all caught up in the drama of how bad their work is, and the rest of us roll our eyes because we know they're the latest version of sliced Wonder and we love their work. 

But maybe I'm one of those tortured artistes of a sort.  I've been writing for years, it's a need I have.  And I'll admit that once upon a time, I thought I was pretty decent in that department, I had something to say and I was pithy and sometimes clever and it worked for me.

I gave it all up for a moderately-paying day job a few years ago.  Obviously with this blog it's apparent that the urge is returning.  I'm not sure why.  I don't think it's because of the audience.  I had people asking me to write again almost as soon as I stopped.  I had fans seeking me out.  But I had to give it some time, and come back to it on my own accord. 

And then today happened.  I was mingling with some favorite creative authors.  I was surprised to hear several of them praising my talents.  Especially weird when I haven't produced anything of note in like, forever.  After lunch I spent my afternoon dreaming up new stories to write, new plotlines and twists.  Maybe I can write reasonably well, when the mood takes me and I let it drive. 

But then the demon sitting on my other shoulder piped in that maybe they were also being charitable, flush with their own successes and just in a generous mood.  So it got me to wondering, maybe I'm just like them, I'm my own worst critic, too. 

There's the rub.  More than anything, I fear letting the kind words go to my head.  I don't want to think I'm all that and a bag of chips and start churning out drivel.  It's like a kind of stage fright.   

I'm getting angsty again.  I thought I was WAY too old for that.