Hello, Members!

So, something happened.

I finally finished my first book, well—mostly finished—meaning I self-edited twice, and it’s currently in the hands of beta readers. I also printed the entire book out for myself with the use of a confidant’s office printer (thank you, thank you, dear friend) because I wanted to feel it and because I wanted to look at it again, with the eyes of a reader, book heavy in hand. What can I say, I’m a terrible romantic!

Fine-tuning once again, red pen primed and poised, I found myself eliminating entire swaths of prose until it dawned on me that the book absolutely sucks!
Why did I even bother writing it?
Who the hell did I think I was?
A writer?
Pfft!

Deep down, I knew that was an incorrect assessment and I wasn’t being fair to myself, but that notion was way down deep. I had to walk away from the book, my desolate hands now empty of its weight.

Over time, I remembered this happens to many writers, if not all of us, at some point. We’re so completely and fully immersed in every aspect of our work, of our creative expression, that the expression spins itself into a many-headed Hydra, each embodying a doubt or suspicion.

And then I experienced a moment of grace, with laughter, of course, over the absurdity of it all. And it, too, reminded me that in the vast landscape of Creativity, we occasionally find ourselves in daunting territories: the depths of doubt and the intense, often unforseen loathing of our treasured creations.

The Modern Prometheus at its finest!

The fact is, many of us experience profound disillusion following the passionate outpouring of our hearts and souls into our work. It’s a perplexing and personal dilemma, where the very project that once ignited our spirit suddenly becomes a source of despair. Worse yet, the sudden shift leaves us questioning not only our current work but our very worth as writers in general.

This phenomenon, though distressing, is not unique to any of us; it is a comfortingly shared aspect of the creative process. Not that misery loves company, mind you. It’s simply good to know that we aren’t horrible at our craft and that it can almost be expected to occur. So, when the loathing sets in, just allow it to flow through you…and right on out the window.

The causes for extreme doubt and disgust in our writing are as varied as they are personal: from fear of rejection to comparison with others to the intimidating prospect of public scrutiny.

But bear witness!

At its core, self-doubt reflects how deeply we care for our craft and our desire to contribute something meaningful to the world.

Every writer, at some point, has wrestled with doubt. It’s a sign that you are pushing the boundaries of your comfort zone, and growth is never comfortable.

So, how do we reclaim our confidence and passion for our projects? Here are a few techniques:

1. Take a Step Back: That’s what I had to do! Sometimes, we’re too close to our work to see its value. Distance can bring perspective. Allow yourself a break, then return to your work with fresh eyes.
2. Seek Constructive Feedback: Sharing your work with trusted peers can provide encouragement and new insights. SCWG is a community built on support; let’s lean on one another. Our new Critique Groups will certainly help!
3. Focus on Your ‘Why’: Reconnect with the reason you started your project. What message did you hope to convey? What emotion or experience did you want to share? Reacquaint yourself with the heart of your work to reignite your passion for it.
4. Embrace Imperfection: Perfection is an illusion, it doesn’t exist, and everyone’s got opinions and they usually differ greatly from each other. Embrace the beauty of your work’s imperfections; they are what make it uniquely yours.
5. Practice Compassion: Be kind to yourself. Writing is an act of bravery. Honor your courage, especially when the path gets rocky.

Honestly, writing this month’s letter has helped me immensely. I realized that other than taking a step back and seeking constructive feedback from my beta readers, the last three steps eluded me completely. I had lost track of my Why, I was embroiled in mechanical perfection, and only slightly began to hold space and compassion for myself.

When I go back, red pen once again dutifully at the ready, it’ll be with new eyes alright, those of an imperfect woman expressing her truths, embracing the beauty of the journey, and understanding that at the heart of storytelling lies connection, healing, and sharing the human experience, and all else can go scratch!
(there goes that red pen again!)

Happy Writing,

Cynthia M. Hall
President, Space Coast Writers Guild
Launching Writers to New Heights