Today’s post is part of the Insecure Writer’s Support Group, a blog hop where insecure writers like myself can share our worries and offer advice and encouragement. Click here to find out more about IWSG and to see a list of participating blogs.
First off, I want to assure you that I’m okay. Parts of this post might sound really bad, but I promise I’m okay.
At least, I am now.
Two or three weeks ago… not so much.
Back in 2012/2013, I wrote a short story series about a journalist who travels through time. Sort of like Rita Skeeter from Harry Potter becomes a Time Lord from Doctor Who. It was a pretty cool series, if I do say so myself.
But over the last few years, I’ve been struggling to figure out what to do with these all stories. I hate to admit this, but I’ve even considered letting this whole project go and starting something else instead. Something easier. Something more manageable.
Then last month, I had an idea. A brilliant idea! A crazy idea. One of my best ideas ever! I suddenly knew exactly what I needed to do with the Tomorrow News Network series; the only problem was that this idea was going to require a whole lot of work. Way more work than I’m accustomed to. I’d basically have to start the whole series over from scratch.
Do I… do I really want to do that?
Am I capable of pulling this off?
I don’t know, but when I looked in the mirror, the guy staring back at me made his thoughts on the subject plain.
I guess most writers have these kinds of thoughts from time to time. It’s just… I’ve never had this kind of self-doubt hit me so hard before, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. It made August one of the darkest and saddest months of my life.
Now regular readers of my blog know that my muse makes frequent appearances in these IWSG posts. Regular readers may also know that my muse doesn’t really understand how the “real world” works (fairy people from imagination-land typically don’t). Apparently among other things like deadlines and personal finances, she also gets confused about mirrors.
Maybe that’s not the most inspiring thing a muse can say to her writer, but I appreciate the sentiment.
We writers really are jerks to ourselves. We’re our own worst critics because we do the one thing that you’re never supposed to do when criticizing—or rather critiquing—other people’s work. We make it personal.
That guy in the mirror called me a failure. He said some other pretty nasty things about me too. But he didn’t say one word about my writing or this new idea I’m toying with. Seriously, if someone did that in a critique group, that person would be politely but sternly asked to leave.
So as I said, I’m okay. At least, I am now. I’ve recovered from my bout of self-doubt and depression, and I’ve gotten back to writing. My plan for September is to try this new idea out and see how it goes.
As for the guy in the mirror… until he learns how to give constructive feedback, I will not be listening to him.