Tell the Meanie In Your Head to Hush Up
Tell me if this scenario sounds familiar.
You’ve been trucking along on your novel when, out of nowhere, things come to a halt. The words won't come, the ideas have vanished, and you hate everything you’ve ever written. You show your work to a writing group, hoping new energy will spark, but instead, you learn you don’t know how to use commas, your main character is unlikeable, and, apparently, you should change your moody fantasy into a historical cozy mystery.
We’ve all been in some version of this scenario, feeling misunderstood, stuck, and utterly confused.
In those moments, our brains can turn vicious, telling us terrible things like:
Your idea isn’t working. It never was, and it never will. You were a fool to think someone would want to read your story. It’s absolutely trash and always will be.
You’ll never finish. No matter how hard you try, how much effort you put in, how much money you spend on courses, books, or developmental edits, your book will never be finished. Ever. It’s all going to be for nothing.
You don’t have what it takes. If you did, writing would be easy. The ideas would flow from your fingers in an endless stream of brilliance. The fact that they’re not is proof of your inadequacy.
You should give up. Clearly, if you don’t have the talent, idea, or follow through to write a novel, you should abandon the effort altogether. Might as well throw your laptop in the trash and take up roller blading because you’re a complete failure as a writer.
If I may interject for a moment—that voice is full of shit.
It’s nothing but a meanie telling you big mean lies from the pit of Lie Town.
When writing is hard, it doesn’t mean you’re a failure or are doing something wrong, it often means the opposite.
Here’s what’s actually happening during those hard moments:
You’re being creative. Creativity is not a straight line from A to B, it’s an iterative process, and that means you work in circles, finding new facets, truths, and ideas as you go along. Sometimes, you don’t realize what you’re actually writing about until Draft Three, and that’s okay. You are creating something that has never existed before; discovering things along the way is simply part of the process.
You’re learning new skills. As I said last week, no one is born knowing how to write. We have to learn all kinds of new skills and concepts. I like to remind my seven-year-old, no one is good at something they’ve never done before. It’s hard to do something new. But the more you do it, the easier it becomes.
You’re writing brave. Writing impactful stories requires you to look inside yourself, expose the truth, and let other people see it. That is really, really scary. When our stories demand emotional bravery, it’s normal to feel afraid and resistant. It takes time to gather our courage.
Your project is getting better. From filling plot holes, to figuring out your characters, to replacing your 127 uses of the word “azure,” writing well takes focus, energy, and commitment. That stuff is hard and slow, but it means your story is becoming a better, truer version of itself.
You’re getting closer to your goals. Each draft completed is a step toward a real life novel. Even the setbacks are opportunities to gain perspective, reevaluate, and move toward what you really want—writing the story you need to tell so you can reach your readers.
Writing isn’t easy. It’s just not. I wish that myth weren’t floating around because, truly, writing a novel is the hardest, longest, most vulnerable project I’ve ever engaged in. But just because something is hard doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.
Writing is hard and you are good enough.
Writing is hard and your story is worth telling.
Writing is hard and you are exactly where you need to be.
If that meanie in your head is getting too loud, reply to this email and let me know. We can figure out a plan to shut that voice up and keep you moving forward.