Just decided to post about a little something I realised about the condition of being a newly published author (though it's a stretch to call myself that, considering that I haven't even sold books by the thousands yet).
Back then, books were something magical to me. Every time I open one up (provided that it's good), I feel myself transported into a world, and it's ever so vibrant and colourful. Even a horror novel was vibrant and colourful in its own way.
Sure, it's the same as it had always been now, after launching my own about a month ago. But my eyes are no longer virgin, so to speak. I find myself scrutinising the writing of every author I read, regardless of fame. I find myself comparing to him or her, and sometimes I enter review mode. What's good and bad about the writing? I'd keep asking myself that.
Thinking back, I estimate that the 'corruption' began soon after I've finished my novel. I started being this way when I first began editing my book. Hyper-awareness, I suppose, for the hyper-real world.
This is both good and bad. On one hand, I believe I'll learn much faster than before when it comes to the craft of writing, due to my hyper-awareness and hyper-sensitivity to writing. On the other, books are no longer (as) fantastical, as mystical as something that seemed to have been produced by the hands of Demi-God/desses.
Back when I was a kid who'd scribbled his first few story paragraphs outside the prompting of a teacher, that was my impression when I looked at my writing and looked at Daniel Defoe's.
Now, I realised that we are all human beings, equally full of potential, equally capable of accomplishing great things... And also equally flawed. Daniel Defoe's second and third Robinson Crusoe novels didn't exactly fly like the first one did.