A writer’s answer to self-doubt is consistency
My writing journey has been filled with starts and stops in the past. The most effective answer I’ve found is consistency.
I began my writing journey in 2010 as a raw, undisciplined, and to be frank, not poor writer. That didn’t matter to me in the least, however. I had an idea for a story I wanted to write and I took to it with more dedication and enthusiasm than I’d ever shown to anything in my life.
Over the next three years, I wrote fearlessly, drafting four full books in the series while writing every day. It was invigorating to watch myself grow as a writer and see characters who had started out as tropes and cliche cutouts take shape into complex, fully realized people. But therein lay the problem.
While I had undoubtedly improved, going from full “pantsing” my chapters to developing detailed outlines of individual scenes and character arcs, my early work was more or less unreadable. So after finishing book four, I decided to go back to the start and rewrite the first two books in the series.
It was June of 2013 when I made this determination. Now, some eight years later, book one has sat simmering on the back burner so long the damn pot has essentially burned through entirely.
Figuring out how to completely restructure books one and two while faithfully connecting back to the story and characters I’d “figured out” in book three proved to be more difficult than I had anticipated. In my attempt to expedite the process, I worked with an editor, participated in different writing critique groups, and regularly sought feedback from friends and family who had previously read the series.
In doing all of that, I was so overloaded with conflicting input I became even more confused and frustrated than I had been before seeking guidance. As a result, I grew defensive of even the smallest critiques, feeling that they didn’t understand the work and were just impatient. I couldn’t explain everything in the first chapter, after all.
Eventually, the writing process became so entangled with notes and conflicting input I just disengaged altogether and opted to take a break. In doing so, I thought I could find that creative spark again, or at the very least allow my frazzled mind to regroup a bit before resuming. That… did not happen.
Weeks turned into months and then months became two years. In late 2015, I finally returned to the book one rewrite, having mapped out an entirely new starting point. With a somewhat more grounded first entry now, I found things had been simplified, allowing me to connect back with the characters and allow them to drive the story. I started working with my editor again and things seemed to be progressing pretty well. I’d outlined 24 chapters for the book, but just as I was beginning to close in on the final act, I hit another roadblock.
At the time, I had just submitted chapter 19 for my editor’s review, and I was damn proud of it. I felt it had carried immense emotional weight and that the writing had been well-fleshed out and descript. As I waited for feedback, I began work on chapter 20, but my momentum would be stopped cold by my editor’s notes.
Still struggling at times to develop that “thick hide” writers need when receiving feedback, I couldn’t always see things objectively. So when my editor noticed I was still leaning too much on heavier set pieces, I remained blind to it. Worse, when none of the things I was so pleased with were mentioned, I withdrew from any willingness to listen.
It didn’t matter that she hadn’t had a problem with the chapter itself. To me, she didn’t was just dismissing my story, essentially suggesting I had to go back to the main outline and back up several chapters when I was nearing the end of my rewrite.
I’d felt for a while she and I hadn’t been seeing eye to eye and that our communication could have been better, but for whatever reason, that piece of feedback was the final straw. So I shut down and shelved my writing ambitions once more.
A couple more years passed in which I continued calling myself a writer despite the fact that I never actually wrote, I became wracked with guilt. I felt like a fraud whenever someone asked about my story or commented on old works I’d published on Wattpad.
“Writer,” like the word “creative,” became labels I appended to myself to try and reinforce my identity, even though I didn't actually do anything that would constitute writing or being creative.
When I next returned to book one in January of 2018, I decided I would, at the very least, finish the final act I’d dropped cold. To reintroduce myself to the characters and the flow of the story, I started from the beginning, and, lo and behold, my editor had been right.
While I was pleasantly surprised how much I still liked much of the writing and the characters, the problems she had called out were in fact very true — faults I could only now see through the benefit of distance.
Over the next few weeks, I sat down and finished the rewrite before shelving the project once more. Sound anti-climatic? It kind of was.
At that point, I wasn’t thinking much of eventually getting the book published anymore — at least not for a while. I knew I needed more time and work and that, while fine, the final chapters weren’t up to the quality of the rest of the work.
Surprising to think that barely writing with any consistency over the course of several years would make writing a climax and ending so hard, right?
Although I haven’t yet returned to my story, I have at least developed a vastly improved writing habit over the past year. While I still don’t write daily, I do write five or six times a week, the result of which has made me a far more disciplined writer. Even when I am ready to return to my story, I know fiction will still be an entirely different animal than blogging or journalism or any other work I’ve done over the past few years, and that’s okay.
While “creative” might be a meaningless label we slap across our chests thinking that it signals to the world that we ARE that thing, it’s important to remember “creative” isn’t a noun but rather a verb. The good news is that there’s a simple remedy to the problem. Consistency.
If you come to the table every day and work, eventually your muse will get the memo and begin showing up with regularity. It’ll also silence that pesky inner critic of yours which can make the act of writing like pulling teeth.
In general, consistency is the key to self-confidence and developing motivation. It cures anxiety and reinforces good habits while building momentum and staying “plugged in” to your story and characters.
At the end of the day, that’s all that matters. So shed the cheap labels and take valued action in your process. Take it from a “creative,” the rest will sort itself out.
