When People Don’t Understand

Who wouldn’t feel blessed to live here?

Not long ago I wrote a blog post about something that both made me sad and forced me to think about my personal values (read it here: The Person I Don’t Want To Be). I posted a link to this in one of the writers groups that I belong to because I am interested in feedback from other writers and I always hope that my story can help someone else.

Several people loved the post and related easily to what I was trying to say about how the experiences effected me. I loved hearing that, but the feedback that stuck with me was the one person who wasted no time or words in informing me that I was being judgmental and pretentious.

My writing style is not going to suit everyone. People are definitely at liberty to hate me and even think I’m suffering from a superiority complex – though if they knew me, they would realize the opposite is closer to reality. I choose to write about topics that are bound to piss people off – creativity, my life, my opinions and impressions. My goal is to be confrontational and push people out of the comfort zone and into the creative zone.

Writing is not an exact science. As a writer, I look for the best possible words to tell my story. Sometimes the process works. Sometimes it doesn’t and my words don’t say exactly what I was trying to express.

This means it will be easy to misunderstand me. Or any writer. After a month or so of thinking about the feedback on my post, I’m okay with it. I want to be real, genuine, authentic. That does not mean I am going to agree with everyone or expect everyone to agree with me.

Sometimes my commitment to being my genuine self means my concern for the safety of those who are clueless about photographing dangerous wildlife will lead others to believe I am being judgmental and pretentious. So be it.

When I write about feeling blessed to live in the most beautiful place I can imagine, someone may accuse me of bragging. Especially when I say I’m lucky because I get to live here and most people have to go home at the end of their visit.

No matter what, someone is going to be unhappy with my work. I prefer when that person isn’t me. I’d rather just be myself: the flawed, profane, occasionally funny and sort of crazy but genuine writer and photographer, living and creating from my heart. I’ll be true to me. Please feel free to disagree with anything I say.

Juvenile black bears on the South Klondike Highway in British Columbia.
Juvenile black bears on the South Klondike Highway in British Columbia.

Agree or disagree, if I see you running directly towards a full grown Alaskan brown bear sow with her two cubs, I  WILL knock you on your ass for your own safety. And blog about it later.

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