Doom, Doom, Doom

 Q: In your writing life, how do you cope with your self-doubt, feelings of inadequacy, frustrations, and despair?

From Susan

 

Self-doubt comes with the territory and begins with that first empty page.  And while it never disappears entirely, after the first book is in your hands it should abate somewhat. After all, an editor, and most likely an agent before that, and the publishing company that gave you an advance, all saw something in your writing, something that was original and polished enough to merit their investment in you. Bravo! The sneaker of self-doubt comes in when you’ve published a half dozen books and you’re not setting the reading world on  fire. Coping means sucking it up, asking for honest feedback, and going back to the writing desk.

 

Inadequacy? I’m guessing if you decided to write 5,000 or 75,000 words, you not only felt up to the challenge but had some external reinforcement, be it school, your day job, the volunteer articles you wrote for the school’s swim team newsletter. Where my not-good-enough warning buzzer gets pushed is if I think it would be great to write a novel set in Bhutan, or with characters so far outside my acquaintance or understanding that I’m bound to make a million mistakes. But that warning buzzer works for me, so unless I’m committed to a huge amount of research and listening, I don’t go there.

 

Frustration is just part of the writing life. Interestingly, I hear as much frustration from massively popular authors as I do from ones just trying to get eyes on their first manuscript. The sources and scale of what’s bugging authors may be different. Someone gripes because he only got a low six-figure advance, or his publisher wouldn’t pay for first class airplane tickets. Someone else is frustrated because she was invited to send fifty pages of her debut manuscript to an agent, who hasn’t replied in six months. The writer is not only frustrated at the delay but at the reality that she’s afraid if she asks for a response, the agent will blackball her and no one she talks to knows if that’s true or not. Chocolate helps temporarily. Ditto scotch. Yoga, hiking, playing with the dog… For me, mental distractions and the reminder that having imaginary conversations with someone are nothing but grist for further frustration.

 

Despair? I haven’t gotten there yet. I write, ultimately, because I love to write. I guess if I truly despaired about ever being published again, I’d let myself feel that for an hour, but not let it put a cloud over everything else, try hard to look for what is working in my life. Promise myself to write something different, network for a new agent, consider self-publishing, and hang out with other writers. Writers get it – they’d empathize and encourage me not to give up ever.