… But you are an artist, you shouldn’t have to explain your work.
I might be totally alone in this, this feeling that my work – me really – wont be understood or appreciated. This inner feeling of lower worth stifled my creative juices for many days. I found myself frustrated by my inability to share what I created so much that I stopped creating altogether. It was when I went to see my younger brother about his helping me with a few projects that he uttered the words I here quote. The came like a sledge hammer through the wall my ego had constructed around itself. Pondering his words I realised that it wasn’t a fear of not being understood and thus appreciated but rather the terror of actually being an open book, cast aside on the empty seat in a packed train carriage. It is almost paralysing.
does it make sense?
The fear rested at the route of this question – one I always ask whenever I speak to people. I’ll try and stop.
do something radically different
A suggestion from a wiser man. Which I’m here trying.
A post a day, come rain or shine.
It's Complicated 
It’s always terrifying to put oneself out there to be judged, mocked, or dare I say even praised… that’s almost as fearful as rejection to me. If the work is liked, there is pressure to repeat the standard set and what if we can’t? If it is hated, do we internalize it to be a direct reflection on ourselves? Yet, if we are called, as you say, to write, what choice do we have but to do it?
No choice. It is an autonomous love – this love of words. Some days you hope the fear recedes, others you just wallow in it. Cheers