So I don’t know about all you other writers and creative-types out there, but one question I can’t seem to answer is this:
How do you know when to push past your edge–and when to accept this edge as part of who you are?
After twenty years of shame and frustration over my introversion, I’ve finally made peace with the fact that I’m never going to be the life of the party. I’m not a social butterfly. I have no desire to be. It’s not who I am. And that’s okay. I like picking a good seat and watching people at parties and maybe making one new friend.
But what about more fluid things–like your prose style? Like your artistic vision? When do you come up to that edge–and throw yourself off it, inviting a stylistic freefall? And when do you sink the poles in deep and pitch your tent and say, “This is the place?”
Where is home? And where is the horizon you’re aiming for?
And how do you know?
Just a thought to start off the week. Let me know what you think.
The Trailer Park MFA 
What is there to lose if you try? The way I make myself feel better about getting embarrassed is to ask myself how embarrassing I would find someone else who acts like me, and also how much that person would care that I disapproved of him/her. Then I go ahead and try new things, because nothing really matters that much to anyone – which is what freedom sounds like to me.
And it’s definitely freedom that we’re after as artists. Thanks, Roxana!