Friday, February 18, 2011

American Idol: the Deluded Edition, aka Doubt Demons of Doom

The theater god and I have been watching American Idol again this year.

(Oh, all right. So I've been watching it, and TG--when he doesn't have a show--has been sitting next to me on the couch, surfing the web on his netbook, only looking up to make the occasional snide comment about a contestant. Which is perfectly acceptable, because we are, of course, on the Couch of Judgment.  You remember the COJ, right? If not, look here.) 

We stopped watching Idol several years ago, mainly because it got all samey-samey, and frankly we were bored. This year, though, Simon (the big meanie) is gone, and Steven Tyler and Jennifer Lopez are there, so we (and by "we" I mean "I") thought we'd give it another shot.

May I just say I am terribly impressed with Steven Tyler? He's been witty, charming, and spot on with his assessments of the contenders. He's also still pretty dang hot, considering he's almost old enough to collect social security. ;)

It's a kinder, gentler Idol this year, and I find it inspiring to see so many people going balls out after their dreams. They train hard. They practice for endless hours. They push themselves to their absolute limits during auditions. And it is beautiful to behold when it works out for them.

But there are painful moments. Moments where the wannabes

The worst are the ones who seem absolutely oblivious to their lack of singing talent. You can tell they just want it so bad, and that they somehow think just wanting it bad is enough to carry them through. Makes me cringe to watch them crumble.  

And then, if I'm not very, very careful as I'm sitting there on the COJ, the niggling little doubt demons turn on me and start nipping at my brain.  

What if that's me? What if I only think I can write? 

What if *shudders* I'm tone deaf about my own books? 

I try to remind myself I'm pretty open to constructive criticism. I mean, I've never actually hit one of my crit partners or beta readers. When somebody (like one of my aforementioned, un-hit, supremely stupendous crit partners or beta readers) has a helpful suggestion, I'm willing to listen and give it a try. I don't automatically assume the words spilling from my keyboard are golden nuggets of perfection.

Not sure, but I think if you can admit you're not perfect, maybe you're not completely tone death, either.

But, just in case, if you ever have a chance to read one of my books...please don't sit on my couch while you're doing it.

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