After you’ve published a thing or two, it’s easy to get caught up in the mindset of “What will readers think of me now?” “Will they think I’m good at writing?” “Will they notice a glaring plot hole or character flaw I’ve overlooked somehow?”
I struggle with this. My first novel, The Vacation Planet, was received so well, I wondered if I could spin a tale as good as the first. I’m my own worst enemy, and I’m always trying to see what I can accomplish. My standards for myself are impossibly high, but that’s a story for another time.
The thoughts of self-doubt creep in often for me in my journey, and that’s because high standards have always been expected of me. When I first start a project, I often wonder if my audience and readers will even find my project interesting to begin with. These aren’t even the thoughts I have on whether I can write out the idea to an extent that does justice to the original idea.
It wasn’t until recently that I realized the work I’m most proud of wasn’t written for my readers, but as a story I tell myself. My ridiculous standards were my own, and when I gave myself that break, the sensation of all these eyes that would be on me and my project seemed less overbearing.
Silence the Voices
The eyes that watch you in the dark are inside your head, and this is how to make them look away. Firstly, remind yourself that you are alone with this project. Writing is the most micro-managed hobby you could find. You’re working on the novel’s plot, the initial writing of the first manuscript, editing a couple of rounds before going over it with your editor, and deciding what’s best for your novel when you’re finally at the publication process.
Nobody cares about your book the way you do. I guarantee it. Sure, your friends will support you, and maybe your mom will give you a warm phone call, but at the end of the day you’re the biggest authority with your manuscript. Unless a traditional publisher is forcing you what to write or how to market yourself, the journey is a lonely one. There are nights where you’re up late and should be going to bed, and by the burning of the midnight oil, you stare at the screen with dark bags under your eyes as you mercilessly pick at your own flaws to get out the perfect story.
All these opinions come to mind when you start to write, and it is especially prevalent in the first couple of chapters. When you’re creating characters, you don’t know how much of it is just your own bad opinion, or how much of it is truly clever. It’s tough, especially with the thoughts of if anyone will even pick up your book in the first place.
Take a moment to center yourself. Remind yourself that you thought this was a good idea to start with, and if you write it because you said you’d like the story, then write it like it’s only available for you in ten or twenty years. Just write the thing. You can work out the kinks with your editor later. That confidence will rise as you begin the writing process without worrying about the honored one-star review you perceive it to receive. Justified or not.
Your inner critic will be worse than any external one.
In every trade, fandom, and hobby, there’s a Gaston. They’re their biggest fans, and they often stay up late at night rereading their own work because they’re better than you with everything they touch. Okay, that I made up, but there are people in every community who will criticize your work without true merit as to why, and there’s definitely going to be people who approach it with the “If I wrote it”, attitude. That’s just the thing: They aren’t writing it. You are. You alone know best of what to pick up from subtleties of your characters, and you alone know there are greater powers at work within your world. If you’re writing science fiction, you know there’s an undiscovered colony that’s been forgotten that hasn’t come into play yet, or perhaps if you’re writing a true-to-life fiction story, there’s a character with a photo of your lead character’s face who hasn’t learned he’s got a stalker yet. There’s so much outside forces don’t see, and you alone are a god. You see all, and the characters who matter most are risen to the top like the foam in your noir detective’s beer. There’s so much others don’t see, and it’s your job to make sure you take all these unspun pieces of string to put together into a tapestry that gives the full picture. They see the blue and yellow strings. You see that they create the night sky. Let the ones who think they’re perfect writers think that. They’ll trip eventually, and when they do, they won’t even see it as due to their folly. Let them make these mistakes if that’s their attitude, and guide the ones who genuinely just want to create a good story.
Challenge your inner voice. Not the inner demons.
Once you can tell yourself that the greatest expectation for your novel will be coming from yourself. There’s some comfort to take in knowing that. When you put together this whole world, and step back on a ledge to overlook the creation that you see that is good, it feels great. There’s this plain over here that is filled with desert riders who traverse their territory with large, wild birds. Over there is a deep, unforgiving jungle with a mysterious giant eel that tells fortunes to the locals at the cost of one sacrifice a month. There’s a wizard who lives in a small hut outside the castle because he constantly disturbs the peace. There’s so much out there to live up to and create when you remove the worry of what other people’s expectations will be. Those expectations can drive you if you’re feeling competitive. When you’re just trying to create this world you want to show off like the crayon colorings you made in kindergarten, you tend to relax more. Find that inner child who loves what happens when red and yellow combine. Discover your work as an explorer unfamiliar with the lands. Lewis and Clark that journey, and you’ll soon forget the eyes and outside comments even exist. You’ll have the most fun you’ve had in ages writing as well when you realize at last the only opinion of your work that matters in the creation process is yours.
-Joe