There are pieces of the writing life that get easier the longer you’ve been on your journey. Writing a synopsis, for example, used to be a multiple-day process with lots of grumbling. Now I’ve learned what makes it enjoyable for me (doing it before the book is written) and it goes much, much quicker.
Other pieces, like self-doubt and a snotty inner editor, are possibly getting worse the longer I write. On a recent writing retreat, I talked about this with my friend Roseanna White, who currently releases three books a year on top of owning WhiteFire Publishing. She was laughing about how recently she sat next to her thirteen-year-old daughter while they were both working on writing stories. Her daughter hardly ever stopped typing, while Roseanna kept getting distracted or stuck in her scene.
Before I was published, if you’d asked me, “Do you think your self-doubt and cranky inner editor will get better or worse after publication?” I would have definitely told you they would get better. After being published, I would then have the validation of being a Real Writer with a published book and all. Wouldn’t that crush my self-doubt and silence my know-it-all inner editor?
Maybe some authors do experience a decline in doubts after they’re published, but most I know confess the opposite. And it makes sense. If I’m nervous about something I’m doing, adding an audience and increasing expectations never makes me less nervous, right? When I was learning how to drive a stick shift, it would not have helped if we’d filled the car up with all my friends and I realized that people’s jobs depended on how well I drove. So why did I think being published was going to improve my problems?
While doubts and voices have grown louder, what I have gotten better at it is managing those inner voices. As a new writer, my fears would sometimes literally cause me to curl up in the fetal position, whereas now I have enough experience to ward off episodes like that. Here’s what I’ve learned:
Don’t let the voices do all the talking.
Those little voices looooove whispering right in my ear. This book idea isn’t nearly as good as your last one. Last time your agent was way more excited.
I used to try to just ignore them. Now I’ve learned to interact. When they start getting real loud, I’ll think, “Quiet please, I’m trying to work. You and I can talk later.”
I’ve also found value in indulging that critical part of myself and exploring those “what ifs?” my brain loves to throw at me when I’m trying to create:
Inner editor: What if your editor hates how you’ve handled this character?
Me: That’s a great question. What do you think will happen?
Inner editor: She’ll probably laugh at you behind your back and tell all her editor friends.
Me: Really? She’s very professional. That doesn’t seem likely. It seems more likely that she’ll just ask me about going a different direction.
Inner editor: That could mean a lot of rewrites and work for you.
Me: That’s true. Good thing I know how to do that, huh? Okay, please be quiet now. I’m writing. We can edit together later.
When the voices get loud, there’s no one but you who can tell them to be quiet.
Don’t forget you’re in charge.
I don’t know about your inner editor, but mine demands perfection from word one. And I used to try to appease the inner editor, thinking it knew better than me. If I didn’t know exactly where the scene was going, I didn’t write it. If I noticed a flaw in chapter one, I would halt the whole book to go back and fix it.
Now I’ve realized that the inner editor works for me, not the other way around, and that the inner editor has to be reminded regularly that writing a novel (or any kind of creating, really) is a process.
Those conversations go like this:
Inner editor: This chapter is terrible. Look at all those dialogue tags you’re using.
Me: This is just the first draft. It’s easier for me to fix that stuff when I edit than to lose the flow of the conversation I’m currently writing.
Inner editor: This book really isn’t as good as your last one.
Me: Of course it isn’t. That one has gone through multiple rounds of edits and copy editing. It started out as ugly duckling too, remember?
If your inner editor is anything like mine, it’ll try to convince you that you better get this story right the first time, or you’ve blown it. Don’t fall for it!
When you tell a friend, you take away the power.
The fastest way to shut down those voices is to tell a fellow writer. If you don’t have any writer friends to tell your fears to, email US using the form toward the bottom of the homepage. I can pretty much guarantee that whatever is bothering you has bothered at least one of us before.
Any time I’ve spoken my fears out loud to a trusted writer friend, they’ve been quick to either point out faulty logic or tell me they go through the same thing.
A quick, simple example is on the writing retreat when I commented to Roseanna, “I’m using so many dialogue tags. And I just paired one with an adverb.”
“My first drafts are always full of tags and adverbs,” she said.
Boom. I felt myself write freer after that. What before that simple exchange had felt like Oh, gosh, I’m using yet another tag. I know I’m going to have to change that out in edits. Now, after the conversation, felt like, No big deal. This happens all the time in first drafts!
Your writerly doubts and super critical inner editor are most likely going to be your companions for the duration of your writing journey, so learning how to maintain them is vital. Have you found anything that works well for you? Even if you haven’t, feel welcome to post in the comments something that your inner editor loves to taunt you about. I bet you’re not alone!
I’ll go first, my inner editor loves to get onto me about how I should be writing faster. Real writers write fast, it says. (False!)
I set weekly deadlines and have to give an account to my writing pals if I miss them. When I’m on the wire, even my inner editor starts sweating and says, “Just write, we’ll talk later!”
Doubt can be a trickier problem. Saying positive things back to it definitely helps. And being aggressive at recognizing doubt as an enemy to progress.
I love that your inner editor has been silenced with weekly deadlines! That’s brilliant, Samantha!
My inner editor bugs me about word count and descriptions. I rarely ever write a first draft that’s even 10,000 words, let alone 50,000 words! What I’ve learned to do is comment on my scenes, but don’t change anything. That way I know what I need to fix in macro edits. Then, as I do macro edits, I’ll start commenting again for my micro edits.
Amanda, my inner editor doesn’t like my sparse first draft style either. I love that you’ve found a way to work around it!
This post is so encouraging! My inner editor often tells me I have to have my first draft perfect and I have to fix the problems before moving on. But I’ve learned that it’s better just to let the first draft be the first draft and fix those problems later.
YES. I often have to repeat to myself, “Let the first draft do its job.”
I’ve named my interior editor Miss Penelope Penn. Writing out her comments in a posh British accent, whilst imagining her upturned nose and only-too-perfect hair, and then responding to her comments in my own snarky slapdash way makes her nettling more fun than otherwise, I’ve found.
I love this soooooo much!
Okay, that’s the most entertaining method I’ve ever heard. Ha! Wonder what the name of mine is…