Fear

Why is it so hard to “Just Write”?

We’ve all heard the advice. Butt in chair, fingers on keyboard. It’s not complicated, and it’s echoed over and over again throughout the internet’s advice sphere.

And the thing is? It’s NOT hard to “Just Write”.

The hard part isn’t the doing, it’s the doing DESPITE.

Despite the fear.

And there’s a subtle difference between the Fear of Sucking and the Fear of Not Living Up To Expectations.

The Fear of Sucking tells you that what you’re writing is garbage and you’re wasting your time.

The Fear of Not Living Up To Expectations compounds the Fear of Sucking by telling you that other people are looking forward to reading what you wrote — and they’re expecting what you do to be as good as or even BETTER than the thing you wrote previously.

Even worse? When the thing you’re trying to write is something you’ve been waiting for. Something you’ve told yourself is a precious and wonderful thing that you’ve waited YEARS to get started on. Years during which you’ve honed your skill and gotten better.

If you suck at it now, you’re RUINING the beautiful and wonderful thing it could be, right?

I’ve seen so much advice saying something along the lines of “if you don’t make time for it, then clearly it isn’t important to you.”

I’m here to tell you that’s NONSENSE logic. Sometimes you don’t make time for it because it MATTERS SO VERY MUCH to you and you’re afraid of failure and suckitude.

This paralysis can get even worse as you become a better writer — as you know the myriad ways in which what you are writing isn’t following the rules you know are in place for a reason. When the stuff you’re writing feels bad even as you’re typing it out.

Not all fears are created equal.

There’s the PRESENT fear, the kind that is a direct result of a current threat. Things like Fear of Being Eaten By the Bear Chasing You or Fear of The Man Stealing Your Wallet or Fear of the Car Crashing Into You.

Then there’s the PROTECTIVE fear, the kind where you are avoiding some likely future threat. These are the fears that keep you from wandering down dark alleyways in dangerous parts of the city, and the fears that keep you paying attention to the drivers around you while you’re driving, and the fears that keep girls from taking opened drinks at parties.

Those fears? Those are legitimate fears, and the kind of safety mechanisms that have kept us alive as a species since Fear of Being Eaten by Bears first became a thing.

Fear of Writing is a different kind of fear. It’s Fear of Failure. Fear of Public Shame and Embarrassment. Logically, you know the difference between Fear of Bad Grammar and Fear of Jumping Out of a Plane, but your body does not know the difference.

People have the same sorts of physical reactions to actual danger as they do to writing stressful emails. Heart rate, breathing, posture, facial expression.

Worst of all? Every time you give in to this non-danger fear, you are telling yourself that you dodged a bullet. WHEW, thank heavens you didn’t sit down and write today, that could have been disastrous. You might have written a BORING CHAPTER.

But we feel relief. We feel SAFE.

And every single time we do this, we’re exercising the muscle that says this Fear is a real Fear and we are somehow doing the right thing by avoiding the action.

We’re making our Fears STRONGER. Growing that shadow of doubt until it seems ludicrous that we WOULD actually write. Nobody would want to read it anyway, right? Because it’s probably terrible.

And just think of all the other things we could be doing. Much safer to watch tv with the family. That’s being social. That’s bonding. That’s GOOD. Writing is scary and it’s selfish besideswhich, right?

And who wants to be selfish only to produce something terrible?

Much better to just avoid it altogether.

And before you know it, you’re a muscled-out superhero of Fear Avoidance, capable of leaping over small responsibilities in a single bound.

THAT LINE OF LOGIC IS A TRAP.

It’s exercising our Fears and allowing them to keep us from even trying.

I am inevitably going to write crap. I will suck.

But you know what? I LOVE WRITING. I love creating characters and stories and sharing them with other people, and for all that I’m absolutely terrified of DOING IT WRONG or letting someone down, or (god forbid) using a comma incorrectly, I will write.

Because the only reason I am NOT writing is because I am afraid.

It’s not because I am uninterested. It’s not because I find writing boring or unsatisfying. It’s because I’ve subtly allowed myself to believe that WRITING BADLY is somehow worse than not writing at all.

If you want to write, please. Please write. Even if you DO suck. Even if you’re terrible at it and you can’t imagine a world in which other people will want to read your writing.

Exercise a different muscle. Be brave. Be terrible. Be wondrous.

Be the person you want to be. Even if it’s scary and some folks may laugh at you. Even if you’re pretty sure you’re terrible at it.

You’re not wasting your time if it fills your soul with meaning.

Related posts:

Negative Self-Talk
When Momentum Isn’t a Problem
Taking Writing Seriously