Writers are their own worst critics. It's no good, it'll never work, no one will want to read it, and no one will ever want to publish it. And the mother of them all: I'm a failure.
These are merely variations of the same theme: Doubt.
Doubt nests in us all (unless you're a narcissistic sociopath). It lurks deep in the belly, like bad chili, waiting for its moment to strike. According to the old axiom, it takes 10 nice comments to make up for one mean one. Doubt never bothers waiting for the one. It takes advantage of the slightest opportunity, striking hard and fast to zero in on your deepest fears and make them, even if only for a moment, truth.
Doubt is poisonous to those of us who create. Whether it's done with pen or keyboard, paint or clay, music or dance, the very act of creating embeds pieces of the creator's soul in every line, every stroke, every step, every note.
And doubt? It's a soul killer.
On a daily basis, the writing Twitter world explodes with links; links to blogs on writing and craft, to new release announcements, to on-the-spot alerts about the publishing industry – and to reviews. A couple of weeks ago, one of these links lead me to a category romance review. As I read through the short piece, horror and doubt followed every advancing word. Several of the book's plot points were eerily similar to mine. For a moment, I even had the crazy fear that I'd been scooped.
No, I don't recall the title. I deliberately did not pursue the book. The last thing I need is to have someone else's words and world in my head. But the damage had been done. I was suffused with doubt. My soul despaired.
And then I looked again. The review wasn't favorable; neither the author nor her plot or characters escaped unscathed. This brought me no small relief; to be honest, it stuck my nose up in the air more than a little – no one could ever call my heroine weak or whiny. (Yea, I am a shallow woman.)
In truth, the plot wasn't all that similar after all. OK, it was a little too close for comfort, but with further review, the differences were glaring, certainly enough to calm if not exorcize my doubts. All right, they were still there and they were raging. Self medication of the wine variety helped in the short term.
For the long term, I remind myself of 5 things to combat the soul killer:
These are merely variations of the same theme: Doubt.
Doubt nests in us all (unless you're a narcissistic sociopath). It lurks deep in the belly, like bad chili, waiting for its moment to strike. According to the old axiom, it takes 10 nice comments to make up for one mean one. Doubt never bothers waiting for the one. It takes advantage of the slightest opportunity, striking hard and fast to zero in on your deepest fears and make them, even if only for a moment, truth.
Doubt is poisonous to those of us who create. Whether it's done with pen or keyboard, paint or clay, music or dance, the very act of creating embeds pieces of the creator's soul in every line, every stroke, every step, every note.
And doubt? It's a soul killer.
On a daily basis, the writing Twitter world explodes with links; links to blogs on writing and craft, to new release announcements, to on-the-spot alerts about the publishing industry – and to reviews. A couple of weeks ago, one of these links lead me to a category romance review. As I read through the short piece, horror and doubt followed every advancing word. Several of the book's plot points were eerily similar to mine. For a moment, I even had the crazy fear that I'd been scooped.
No, I don't recall the title. I deliberately did not pursue the book. The last thing I need is to have someone else's words and world in my head. But the damage had been done. I was suffused with doubt. My soul despaired.
And then I looked again. The review wasn't favorable; neither the author nor her plot or characters escaped unscathed. This brought me no small relief; to be honest, it stuck my nose up in the air more than a little – no one could ever call my heroine weak or whiny. (Yea, I am a shallow woman.)
In truth, the plot wasn't all that similar after all. OK, it was a little too close for comfort, but with further review, the differences were glaring, certainly enough to calm if not exorcize my doubts. All right, they were still there and they were raging. Self medication of the wine variety helped in the short term.
For the long term, I remind myself of 5 things to combat the soul killer:
- No story is original. Not even Harry Potter. Themes, character archetypes, and plots reverberate and repeat throughout the history of storytelling. We're all working off the same template. Some of us are simply doing it better.
- Originality manifests in execution. No one can tell your story except you. What you bring to these established tropes is unique. That's what makes it special.
- Rejection comes like the dawn. We all fail. It ain't pretty and it's never sexy, but it happens to all of us – even New York Times bestsellers. The trick is in picking yourself up after a failure and journeying on.
- Never, ever quit. Envision typing The End. Write your award acceptance speech (I've already altered the Oscar speech I wrote when I was 12 for the RITA award that awaits me). Picture your book on the shelf. Do whatever it takes to finish the book.
- You are not alone. When in doubt, turn to your greatest cheerleaders – your critique partners. In my moments of doubt, mine continue to reach out with support and praise, though lately I fear I've made them spend more time talking me off the ledge than reviewing pages. Critique partners make all the difference in the world. Don't have one? Reach out to your local writing group and get one. In the meantime, call your best friend. They are your first and best cheerleaders. I know this from experience.
