Beating Writer’s Anxiety: Techniques for Writing Freely and Fearlessly #1
The pen might be mightier than the sword, but it is often also heavier.
As creatives, we wrestle with many devils of the mind and soul, every word forged from the shattered remains of these devils slain. Chief of them: fear and anxiety.
In my journey to write sincerely — without self-censorship, perfectionism, and fear of judgment — I have gathered some indispensable advice that I now find necessary to repeat. These little bits of humble help are the armor and halberds I wield when the going gets tough and the creative well threatens to dry.
- Some over none.
- Separate the Critic from the Creative.
- Think of marketing as making friends.
- The 70/20/10 rule.
1. Some Over None
Starting is the hardest. Putting down those first words is the most challenging thing every writer does, and fear is most potent in those tender moments before words meet page, and the excuses we keep close at hand become undeniable objective truths in the ears of our hearts.
You know the ones I’m talking about: “Just go to bed. It’s already late. You’ll write better in the morning.”
I say this one line when I don’t feel like writing:
Some Over None.
Some over none means that anything, no matter how little, is better than nothing. If I get one paragraph down, that’s better than nothing. If I write for just 15 minutes and call it a day, that’ll be infinitely more work than getting nothing done.
Some Over None.
The beauty of it is that once I start going, all the excuses fade into the background, and the fear disappears. Fifteen minutes turn to 30, and 30 to 60.
These little writing bursts build up your self-discipline and confidence, making future writing sessions easier.
A little every day goes a long way. You’d be shocked at how much work you can get done in these quick writing bursts.
2. Separate the Critic from the Creative
We can all agree that the single greatest reward in writing is the writing process itself. It’s that intoxicating feeling we get when we are in tune with the inner part of us that feeds us words and images unfiltered, and our mind and soul work together to bring forth our beautifully flawed creation.
That part of us is the creative; it only manifests when given room to do so, away from criticism.
It becomes difficult to tap into the creative when we criticize and reject the words this beautiful part of us is offering as it is being offered. It doesn’t matter how cringe or unrefined the sentences are, to deny what the creative offers is quite literally creative suicide, which is why perfectionism is so poisonous to writers. Yet even the best of us struggle with it.
Perhaps it’s because what first drove us to write was reading inspiring work, work so moving we had no choice but to pick up a damn pen and attempt to do the same.
But this unquenchable thirst to be great writers — or even good ones — turns us into severe self-critics too occupied with editing the words as they form to actually say anything. The critic does have a use down the line, but for the creative to thrive, learning to separate the two is the first step to overcoming perfectionism.
So how do we achieve this?
We can learn a lot from the apt metaphor of Victor Frankenstein and his monster. Frankenstein rejects his monster right from its conception — the ultimate form of criticism — so it continues to exist, never knowing love or warmth. Frankenstein’s rejection eventually culminates in the monster killing his bride, younger brother, and best friend.
What would have happened if Frankenstein had learned to see the beauty of his creation beyond its immediate monstrous countenance?
The perfectionist writer quick to criticize their words as the creative dutifully offers them is like Frankenstein fleeing from his creation in horror. The death of Frankenstein’s family and friends, wrought in the name of the monster’s vengeance on its creator, are metaphors for the perfectionist writer’s unfinished creations and unmet dreams, smothered by the need to be great.
“I am malicious because I am miserable. Am I not hated by all mankind?” ~ Frankenstein’s Monster.
The more I write, the more I learn to trust the creative. Yes, the sentences tend to be chock-full of errors, with thoughts sparring and swirling all over the page, but there’s a whole lot of fun and life in it too. I often won’t know what I’ll be saying until I say it, so allowing the story to unfold in its messy form is crucial to the process.
No writing would happen without this inner freedom.
Only after the creative has thoroughly done his job do I free the critic to revise and scrutinize. The critic must also be free to do everything in his purview, which may involve deleting whole sections (the horror!).
It can be painful work, but important nonetheless.
3. Think of Marketing as Making Friends
I was initially horrified at the idea of marketing. So, not only did I have to fetch words out of the dark void I call my soul, but now I also had to drag you poor horses by the neck, screaming and kicking, and somehow convince you to drink of my work freely?
Who the F*** is running this simulation?
Then I listened to an enlightening podcast about how marketing is basically just making friends.
Marketing is a terrifying prospect, especially for those of us that thought being good storytellers was all that mattered. But looking at it through the lens of making friends makes the whole prospect of marketing manageable and oddly endearing.
I’ve found writing on Medium to be a great way to practice marketing as the act of making friends. The fact that most of the readers on Medium are also writers makes it much more appealing.
4. The 70/20/10 Rule
The 70/20/10 rule refers to a learning and development model for effective learning, where we learn 70% from on-the-job experience, 20% from other people, and 10% from formal training.
My immediate takeaway from this learning model is that the best way to become a better writer is to write a lot.
“Apply butt to seat,” Confucius said once… I think.
Sit down and write all those horrible drafts, and don’t be afraid to experiment with different types of writing. When you start to hate yourself from all the cringe, practice compassion. It’s often scariest at the beginning, but once you get going, the cringe becomes the spice of life.
In the words of Mother:
It is impossible to live without failing at something unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all, in which case you have failed by default. — J.K. Rowling.
Learn from others too. It’s fantastic if you could have a mentor actively offering guidance, but if you don’t, make your favorite books your mentors. Study them, learn how to do what they do, and steal everything worth stealing.
“Good writers borrow from other writers. Great writers steal from them outright.” ~ Aaron Sorkin
Read books on writing. That 10% on formal study is essential, so don’t skimp on the theory. Study lots, but do not use “reading writing books” as an excuse to pause the writing itself. I point this out specifically because I’ve fallen prey to this delicious excuse — learning to write without actually writing — so many times before. It’s a sneaky, sneaky excuse.
Yes, learn a lot of theory, but none of it sticks unless you’re constantly practicing it.
Kelly Eden also has an interesting take on the 70/20/10 rule. How she applies it to her writing is enlightening.
Thank you for reading. The next part discusses some of the internal battles we face as writers, like accepting that there can be nothing completely original and knowing when to move on from one work to another.
I found it important to write these tips even though I don’t feel qualified yet(another one of the internal battles the next part of this article discusses) because I hope that at least one writer out there gets something from it.
Happy writing!
If you enjoyed the read and want to support me, you may buy me a coffee.
