Introspection

Within my writing, I always keep my intended audience in mind by shaping how I structure sentences and how complicated I make them to understand. The more straightforward essays/projects are for a younger audience, and the more complex and thought-provoking ones are for whoever can understand them. I have written stories about things important to me, like finding light in a dark and evil world, finding color in a world of black and white, and finding God in my lowest moments, and those stories are more for an audience of peers. I have written poetry about truth and ideals and how they should be used together instead of at odds; that one had the intended audience of adults and teens who care for the subject. Most of what I have written so far focuses on people my age and above, while I have written a few poems and short stories for anyone, including kids and adults alike. 

The concept of audience intrigues me. Am I, the author, also an audience member of my work? Looking back at my previous writings, I often feel disgusted and cringe away from my older projects. If I feel this way about an essay or short story I am working on, I will restart it if a new idea hits me, like with what I am writing now. This is my second time writing this, but I’m following a new idea. I wish I had saved the poems and stories I had written in the middle and most of the high school; I had a bad habit of deleting them or not keeping them to use later. I realize now that I would have been much better off with most of my old projects than without them. I remember a poem I wrote about the concept of a black-and-white world; that poem was one of my favorites that I had written, but I never thought to save it so I could see it later. I am my own worst critic, it seems. 

With my general audience and audience of myself, who am I writing for? Am I writing for an audience outside of myself like I intend to, or am I writing for myself?