Writer's Fear

Where does all the fear come from?

The results are in: Writers are one freaked out group of people. 

What are we afraid of? According to the comments on Wednesday’s post the answer is: plenty.

We’re scared of the foundational questions that form the bedrock of our decisions to even pursue writing in the first place. Let’s start on that shaky ground.

Should I Art? Writers (all artists, really) are faced with the unspoken—and sometimes voiced—questions posed by our culture the moment we choose a life of art: Are you sure? Don’t you want a paycheque? (That’s paycheck to you Americans.) Don’t you know art is just a hobby?

Margaret Atwood created this handy reference chart of writer’s fears about what people think about our books and us as people.

What people say	What Writers Hear
1. I always wait for your books to come in at the library.	I wouldn’t pay money for that trash.
2. I had to take you in school.	Against my will. Or: And I certainly haven’t read any of it since! Or: So why aren’t you dead?
3. You don’t look at all like your picture.	a. Much worse.
4. You’re so prolific!	You write too much, and are repetitive and sloppy.
5. I’m going to write a book too, when I can find the time.	What you do is trivial, and can be done by an idiot.
6. I only read the classics	And you aren’t one of them.
7. Why don’t you write about _______?	Unlike the boring stuff you do write about.
8. That book by _______ (add name of other writer) is selling like hotcakes!	Unlike yours.
9. So, do you teach?	Because writing isn’t real work, and you can’t possibly be supporting yourself at it.
10 That story of MY LIFE - now THAT would make a good novel.	Unlike yours.

If we manage to push our way through the maddening din of the cultural pressure to abandon writing and put on a suit and tie, we immediately slam into the next major fear: Who am I that I should I art? 

Ah, yes. Self-doubt. Isn’t it true that I do not possess the skill/talent/education/cunning good looks of a true artist? Alas, I lack.

Well of course you lack. That’s why you art. Art isn’t about getting your poop in a group first and then approaching the craft from a God’s eye view of having accomplished something. Art is the journey. 

So we slog through and manage to create art. And guess what happens? Rejection. And not even real rejection. Rejection we conjure in our imaginations and somehow convince ourselves will absolutely happen if ever the art we’ve created is shared with the world/agent/publisher/editor/next door neighbour/Mom. 

Should we manage to leap over the fear of rejection fence (which we got over simply as a matter of repetition. We were rejected and rejected and found ourselves still living), we meet up with Fear Of Success, Otherwise known as Second Book Syndrome. 

Everyone gushes after a new author. Hopes are high! Then the book releases, your third cousin emails you that it wasn’t half bad, and Wow! You’ve got a contract for a second book. But what if your third cousin doesn’t like your second book as much as your first? No time to think about it now! You have a lifetime to write your first novel, and six months to write your second.

Now we’re really afraid. Writer’s block is our new best friend. We squeeze the words out as if from an empty toothpaste tube. We’re so close to the story that every word we write looks wrong. We stare at a word and it just looks weirder and weirder the longer we stare. We being to doubt that English is our Mother Tongue. Half way through the second novel we realize we don’t actually know how to write a book. 

We switch into auto-type, madly plastering the page with words, as many as we can think of as quickly as possible (and update our facebook page with our process: 25,000 words today and I blew out my keyboard!) even if the words come out in no particular order because 

We

Have

A

Deadline  

Sure, having a deadline makes you look like a superstar on social media—Oh me, oh my! My fab editor is waiting on my manuscript. Tee hee—but the reality of deadlines is they suck the fun out of the creative process for many writers.

The only thing worse than a deadline is a lack of a deadline. This usually means we’re still steeped in the first couple of fears listed above. 

Here are some cures for your writer’s fear:

Realize that writing is work. Do the work. Don’t complain. I'm lucky enough to know Joy Jordan-Lake and call her friend. In a recent email discussion (we were talking about our fears as writers) she observed: “Writing is like home renovation alternating between sledgehammer and tweezers”

That's the secret. Do the work. 

Self confidence isn’t necessary, but gumption is. If your knees are shaking and you feel like you’re going to throw up, you’re probably doing the right thing.

Show up for work. Do what scares you. Face the fear. Then, do it some more. In time, you’ll find you’ve acquired the knowledge, skill, expertise, and mastery you feared you did not possess.

Fear and the First Line

Latayne and Katy, thanks for the wonderful discussions. I've been following with great interest as I travel through the deep, rainy, flooded, humid south. Send water wings!

I'm a good distance into my sixth novel, my first historical fiction, and I hate my first line. In fact, I'm not at all sure where the story begins, although now that I'm over a thousand miles from my manuscript, I'm beginning to see things differently. A little cut-and-paste. A new first scene. That's all it needs.

Honestly?

I'm scared.

And fear kills creativity.

And so, I'm done with fear. Fear of disappointing my publisher and readers and myself. I'm headed for the pirate life, at least when it comes to my writing. (My dog will still expect morning walks on schedule.) I'm reckless. A carouser with words and ideas. I swing my sword and jab. Dialogue. Description. Narrative. Take that!

Riiiight.

I never expected to be dealing with fear at this stage of the game, but with three of my books already out of print and the publishing world obsessed with the bottom line--as I know they must be--well, I'm c-o-n-c-e-r-n-e-d (Christian-ese for terrified.) I just can't get this story right.

Am I so different? I'm most bold when I feel safe. And this world is not safe.

But Jesus is. He is the one I write for, the one I long to please. I'm sorry to say that I've let things go topsy-turvy now that I'm a "player" in the publishing world. It's time for a course correction. As one of my favorite Sarah Groves songs says, "I live and breathe for an audience of One." That's my goal, anyway.

Is fear keeping you from moving ahead with a writing project? How do you deal with fear of failure? Do you have a writing ritual to remind you for Whom you write? Share!