Where Does Confidence Come From?
A week or so ago, I wrote about keeping company with fidgety Doubt at my elbow, so it's only fair that I should report that yesterday I spent some time with her sister Confidence. She doesn't appear at the heady but fraught beginning of a project, and rarely near the nerve-wracking end, but sometimes slips in during the middle. I stuck to milky tea, while she slugged back black tongue-burning coffee. We both threw up our feet onto the table and laughed loudly. And when I got back to my manuscript I seemed to write more words than I crossed out, which is something.
So where did this raucous companion sweep in from? Maybe it's best not to ask too many questions, but it's kind of my trade. I trace the knock at the door to a few things. One was just tolerating Doubt's messy ways for a while. Shoving her back when she hunkered too close, but never booting her out of the room. Keeping my eyes on my own paper, as the teachers say, as much as possible. Once in a while sticking my fingers in my ears. Confidence comes from trying a new direction after turning back on a wrong path, and from seeing a solid if sloping stack of pages stack up behind me.
But of course one doesn't ever write alone, or even with the apparitions that like to sit themselves by writer's tables. Confidence can come from applause, but perhaps she sticks around longer when she comes in on a whisper from friends who murmur and smile when we complain, and pour more tea. And when we're lucky, we also get the blessings of strangers. When I was recently at Birchbark Books http://birchbarkbooks.com/, the woman at the counter picked up one of my small stack and said, "This is an unusual choice for a girl from Massachusetts. I don't mean that as a bad thing. It's good. Ojibwe is a beautiful language."
Her articulation that it's not bad for me to be pushing borders, trying to make my world bigger and more beautiful, though the process may be tough: those words make me feel, at the moment, as if someone has my back. And keep me moving forward.
And I'm sending Confidence out to see you. Make the coffee strong, and know she won't turn down a scone.
So where did this raucous companion sweep in from? Maybe it's best not to ask too many questions, but it's kind of my trade. I trace the knock at the door to a few things. One was just tolerating Doubt's messy ways for a while. Shoving her back when she hunkered too close, but never booting her out of the room. Keeping my eyes on my own paper, as the teachers say, as much as possible. Once in a while sticking my fingers in my ears. Confidence comes from trying a new direction after turning back on a wrong path, and from seeing a solid if sloping stack of pages stack up behind me.
But of course one doesn't ever write alone, or even with the apparitions that like to sit themselves by writer's tables. Confidence can come from applause, but perhaps she sticks around longer when she comes in on a whisper from friends who murmur and smile when we complain, and pour more tea. And when we're lucky, we also get the blessings of strangers. When I was recently at Birchbark Books http://birchbarkbooks.com/, the woman at the counter picked up one of my small stack and said, "This is an unusual choice for a girl from Massachusetts. I don't mean that as a bad thing. It's good. Ojibwe is a beautiful language."
Her articulation that it's not bad for me to be pushing borders, trying to make my world bigger and more beautiful, though the process may be tough: those words make me feel, at the moment, as if someone has my back. And keep me moving forward.
And I'm sending Confidence out to see you. Make the coffee strong, and know she won't turn down a scone.
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