For want of a nail the shoe was lost.

For want of a shoe the horse was lost.

For want of a horse the rider was lost.

For want of a rider the battle was lost.

For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.

And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.—Traditional Rhyme.

It’s not always easy, this writing gig. Don’t get me wrong, I love it and I’m certainly addicted to it, but there are times where I suspect every author stares at the screen and wonders what the hell they were thinking when they started the latest book. Heaven knows most of us look back on some of our printed works and cringe from time to time. I’m certainly guilty on that count.

I saw an interesting post recently where an author asked if other writers suffer from uncertainty and the crushing weight of self doubt. The answer, damn near universally, was “yes.”

Many times that uncertainly and self-doubt gets labeled as writer’s block. It should really be called impotence. The sudden, crushing failure to perform on demand. And I think writing impotence has sub genres. For example….

Aa few years back, J. K. Rowling was on top of the world: Her first two books had blown everyone away. No one expected her to experience that level of success. Her third book was coming out and it was time to start on the fourth. Guess what? For the first time in her relatively short but explosive career, she was late turning in the manuscript. The buzz about the delay included countless rumors. Some said she’d become addicted to drugs, that she was getting married and had decided to quit writing, that her son was in trouble and she’d stopped for his sake and at least a dozen different variations on the theme.

Through all of the rumors, I wondered if her real problem was self doubt. Why? Because her first book was a success. Her second book gave a new definition to monstrous success and by the time the third was done, she was dealing with movie companies and a dozen others who wanted to license her baby and pay her a ton of money. That’s heady stuff. The sort of thing that looks good on a resume and is almost certain to guarantee phenomenal success on your fourth book in the series. Seems logical, right?

But what if Self Doubt rears its ugly head and whispers into your ear with the sure, confident voice of a dear, close friend and says: “What are you going to do now? How are you ever going to be able to top that last book? What makes you think they won’t catch on that this has all been a fluke?”

That’s really all it takes sometimes; just a little conspiratorial whisper before you fall victim to the Peter Pan Syndrome. It’s all about happy thoughts. Without them, you ain’t flyin’ anymore, baby. You’re screaming for all you’re worth while you plummet through the clouds toward that speck of concrete far below. Self doubt will knock all the ideas out of your head in two seconds flat, and leave you wondering if anything you’ve committed to paper or computer was worth even noticing. What if it sucks, and you just can’t see it, because you’re too damn close? What if it’s the worst piece of drivel ever written?

Imagine how it must feel to be an “overnight success” and run across that sort of crushing worry. Of course that’s all conjecture on my part. I’ve never met Rowling. Maybe she did get married/go into rehab/have to save her son from some horrible fate. Who knows?

Self doubt is, simply put, a bitch. It can do you in if you let it.

Stress can be a bruiser, too. It’s hard to run away to the land of make believe when you’ve got fifty bucks to your name and $3,050 worth of bills past due.
And not all stress is financial. Family issues, health issues, that relationship that was going to last forever…They can all slip in and knock your concentration to hell and back. Somehow those murderers in your story—the new improved murderers with the unique twist that will reestablish the standard in the literary world—don’t seem as scary when your life is threatening to fall apart.

Medical stress is a different matter. It’s not always possible to ignore medical stress and, frankly, not always wise. I know writers who deal with chronic pain every day. It limits the time when they can write, when they can use a computer, etc. Yet they still manage. For some reason, writers and medical ailments seem to go hand in hand. Off the top of my head, I know writers with gout, diabetes, heart conditions, suffering from hip and knee surgeries, ulcers, migraines, anxiety attacks, bipolar disorder, colitis, heart conditions, arthritis, rheumatism, cancer….it’s a damned long list. But they still write.
It’s never the lack of ideas; it’s the lack of ability to execute them. That’s what gets you when you’re not looking. That’s what feeds the self doubt machine and fuels the stress to even higher levels.

Here’s another sub genre for impotence—perfectionism.

There is a desire to make every piece you write as perfect as possible, at least if you’re a serious writer and not a hack. It’s impossible to look at anything I’ve written once it’s in print and not find things I would have changed if given a few more years to pick and fine tune. I sincerely doubt there’s a writer out there who doesn’t feel the same way. Certainly none of the ones I’ve met personally are excluded from that desire. I don’t mean an occasional comma splice or a run on sentence: I mean a strong urge not to let go of your hard work until it’s pristine, until every single sentence is capable of stunning a reader with its flawless, lyrical prose.

The only way I know to kill this monster is by following this simple rule–FINISH THE STORY. EDIT LATER.

I’ve heard of a few exceptions, where a writer decided to add a major character or subplot which required changes, but by and large the number one problem I hear writers talking about is the need to go back and edit previous scenes while they are writing. Perfectionism can be the death of your stories if you let it.

How can you ever get to the end of a journey if you keep going back to down the road you’ve already traveled to rearrange the furniture? Seriously, think about it. When you start a quest, you have to go forward.

All of these demons can and will defeat you if you give them a chance. But there is a cure for them.

It’s called discipline.

Self doubt will always be there. Without it, you’re probably going to become a megalomaniac and write some of the worst drivel ever. Self doubt is important because it makes you strive to be the best. It’s a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands, but if you’re careful you can use that little inner editor to your advantage and not end up just walking away from what might be a great story. Most of the people reading this have likely heard the name Stephen King and have heard about how his wife rescued a little story called CARRIE from the trash bin where he’d tossed it. Think how different King’s career might have been if not for his wife, Tabitha, and then consider the rhyme that starts this little article. His self doubt versus her faith.

Stress is a different beast. Stress eats away focus, and whether you like it or not, focus is necessary for writing. My best advice for that particular monster is to simply enjoy the writing process. Write for the sake of writing.

In the long run, again, it’s a matter of discipline. You can’t control every aspect of your life. None of us can. What you can control, however, is your writing.

If the story refuses to move forward, write something else. If that isn’t your cup of tea, write yourself a list of questions to answer through the course of the story. You’d be amazed how often your subconscious will answer those questions while the story progresses. The thing is, whatever the cause of your dysfunction, you can get past it with a little discipline. If that means taking a second job to pay your bills, then so be it. If that means insisting on a little private time for your writing, then make it happen. If you want to be a writer, you have to write. Put another way, and one I’ve used on many occasions: I’m too damned busy for writer’s block. I have things I want to accomplish. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

Find the way. Make the time. Write.

© 2006 – 2009, Deborah LeBlanc. All rights reserved.