Self-doubt afflicts everyone at some point; it’s not the sole domain of writers. Yet I think that for those of us who are not yet published, self-doubt can be acute.
Writing can be an isolating activity–you don’t often work with colleagues who provide feedback, encouragement or advice. It’s true you may have a supportive network of friends and family, but if they’re not interested in writing or feel they have nothing to offer you, you’re on your own. You rarely have a yardstick to measure your progress or your talent. Am I actually as good as I think? Or (depending on the day) am I better than I think? There are so many people trying to get books published; how do I measure up? Until you have a product ready–a finished manuscript–it’s difficult to tell. And since it’s such a long project (especially if you have limited time), it’s hard to keep the faith over a long period of time.
Even harder is that no one expects anything of you. By that I mean there is no publisher clamouring for your completed work, no literary agent on your case to get it done. No one would care whether I finish this book or whether I abandon it. And how easy to simply abandon it. Take all that extra time and read more or hang out with friends more or do more with my family? How inviting.
When it seems to never end and there’s no purpose anyway and I’m supposed to be doing this because I like writing, why do I bother?
Because (I give myself a pep talk) I’m good at it. Because I think there is a purpose to my book. Because I have something to offer.
When I doubt again, I try to remind myself that I’m not the only one who believes I have talent. I think about feedback I’ve received in the past.
My favourite compliment? When my university professor accused me of plagiarism.
I was giving a seminar presentation based on a novel. I set the scene of the dystopian themes I’d be discussing by writing my own description of a dystopian world. My prof interrupted me, demanding I cite my source. Confused (and now very worried) I asked her what she meant.
“The description,” she said.”Where did you get it?”
“I wrote it myself,” I stuttered.
“Oh,” she said, surprised. A moment of awkward (and unnerving) silence. “Well, continue, then.”
That an English professor mistook my own work for that of a published author buoyed me then and it buoys me now. It doesn’t matter that it happened years ago. It still helps me believe in my abilities.
LESSON LEARNED: It’s not arrogance to believe you can write well. It’s faith that you have something to offer. If you don’t believe in yourself, no one else will, so you might as well be the first. 🙂