The Call To Create

I've always considered myself an artist on some level. The sheer joy i get out of the creative process seemed like a strong enough indicator that it was something I should pursue.

Now I'm not so sure.

I have a friend who will remain nameless like all other friends on this blog. He has this really honest way about him, where spending time with him makes you like him, just because he's so thoroughly not under-handed. His honesty is also a touch annoying, because he sincerely thinks that he isn't talented at writing. His first attempts at songwriting blew mine out of the water.

And it makes me wonder: what if writing isn't my thing?

I was reading Great House by Nicole Krauss last night, and I was moved so very heavily, and I realized that there is no way I could ever move anyone that much with something I've written.

Recently I've been praying a lot about denying self and pride, and I'm starting to look at my motivations for wanting to create, and the more I look into it the more I realize it's about pride. I want affirmation, I want to be held in people's eyes as 'the artist,' or 'the writer.' And honestly, I'm sick of it. I want to find a way where what I make is made for the beauty of it.

But again, why make something slightly good with much effort when people can make excellent things with no effort?

I also guess I shouldn't be comparing myself to others and basing my decisions off their abilities, but it seems so apparent that some people just have natural abilities to do things with such grace and ease, whereas others are at their best, not very good.

I really don't know what conclusion I've reached. I'm not writing this as some self-pitying plea, hoping that people will tell me that I really am a good writer, because I realize I can write with some proficiency. But that's from years of writing and reading and immersing myself in this world. Others can just pick up a pen and craft things that people relate to at a gut level.

I need clarity. And Nutella. And milk.