February 25, 2016 in Dag

I’m a star – in my own mind

One of the things I really enjoy about writing is that I get to be an invisible superstar.

What on earth is that supposed to mean? Has he gone off his block again?

Absolutely not. It makes perfect sense.

I’m shy. I’m definitely introverted – I know that for sure because I’ve done the Myers-Briggs personality test three times and each time it’s been unequivocal. I would rather hide in the corner (preferably behind a very large lampshade), than attract any kind of attention.

But despite my shyness/introversion, I’m also creative (ok, maybe that’s not quite so unequivocal, but I like to think it’s the case). I’m also kind of funny. So while I can’t resist my overwhelming urge to hide away from the world, I also can’t resist the urge to make the world laugh. How am I supposed to reconcile these two apparently contradictory motivations?

The solution, of course, is that I write.

I don’t have to stand up in front of an audience, cracking one-liners or sharing devastatingly insightful comic observations about the state of the world. No, I write them down instead. I put them into strange and wonderful stories (or strange and wonderful blog posts), and then send them out into the world (avoiding the need to send myself out into the world).

Sure, there are drawbacks. Getting people to know that these stories (or blog posts) actually exist can be a challenge. But there are also some definite advantages.

The moment when I really got a sense of how great it was to be in this position was during the performance of the first university revue I was involved with (university revues are live sketch/variety shows put on by university students). As a writer but definitely not a performer, the closest I got to the stage was several rows back in the audience. Every time one of my sketches was performed and people laughed, I basked in the glory. This wasn’t just the performers getting a positive response – this was for me as well. On the other hand, whenever one of my sketches didn’t get a laugh, I didn’t have to deal with the response (unlike the performers looking rather embarrassed on the stage). Obviously, that wasn’t one of mine. (ok maybe I did blush a little, but I had it easy compared to the poor actors).

So three cheers for writing. It’s the best way that you can be a superstar, even if you’re the only one who knows.


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