From someone whose inner critic got worse after publishing
“How did I do this in the first place?”
“I’m never going to be able to do this again.”
“What if I wrote a story about—” “Been done before. Try again.”
We all know the worst part about the Inner Critic is that it has unfiltered access to our biggest dreams and therefore knows the exact recipe for concocting our worst fears. When I was headed into the publication of Back to You in the summer of 2023, my biggest fear was the moment of publication being a moment of isolation instead of being one of celebration.
But when I got the other side and had some amazing testimonies of people’s reading experiences, I thought great, this is going to be perfect ammunition against that inner critic.
Then it got its hands on those precious memories, and now they’re being used to show me what will never happen again.
I’m in the deep end of drafting a new project at the time of me writing this, and for some reason, having accomplished this goal already—finishing a whole, sellable book— is making it harder to do it again.
So, why is that?
Well, my epiphany lies in that question. I forgot my why.
Maybe it’s a product of being in this new space of sharing my project online through YouTube (and now this blog), or my professional growth, but everything suddenly had more pressure. Even the first draft. (I know, I can see you nodding your heads in solidarity.)
We writers know that’s a death sentence. If you’re getting stuck in the first draft, the chances of finishing it get slimmer and slimmer. It’s like accelerating in a car just to immediately put your foot on the break. All that energy, all that momentum, screeches to a halt, and usually does some damage in the process.
My epiphany lies in that question. I forgot my why.
All this pressure I seem to now automatically dump on my work ethic took the magic, fun, and creativity out of this draft. The first draft is for creating, and creating takes joy. It takes curiosity, a touch of whimsy, a perspective of “What if?” in its most fun form. You are creating a story that literally didn’t exist until this very moment. No other person on earth can write this story like you because they’re not you — and we’re going to concern ourselves with reviews? Already?
I know that side of the business is important. We want people to read our stuff, but that is not our concern right now.
It’s like what Jane Smiley said:
“Every first draft is perfect, because all a first draft has to do is exist.” [Emphasis mine]
Now, I’ll admit, I am not familiar with Jane Smiley’s work, but I’m already a fan.
Reviews, or even admitting to our family members what we wrote, is not our concern right now. That inner critic doesn’t get a voice at the moment. We need to solely listen to our inner creative.
As for me, now I need to figure out how to get my why back.
To that, here’s a secret: even our inner critic loves our inner creative, because without it, the critic wouldn’t have something to critique. Weird, right? To me, that puts our critic’s power down to the size of an ant.
“You need me,” I tell it. “More than I need you.” (Now you say it.)
So in this stage of writing, when my inner critic is shouting over the beautiful inner creative, shove your why in the face of that critic. If you’ve never thought about it before, here are some questions to get you started:
- Why do you love to write?
- Why did you pick up your first notebook? First pen?
- When did a love of reading transform into a love of writing?
- Why do you keep coming back to this story, day after day?
- Why do you think this character needs a voice? What are they going to teach people? What are they going to help people with?
- Why do these themes seem to follow you, even when you thought you weren’t ready?
(Side note to that, I think story ideas act much like the wands in Harry Potter: they choose us. Not the other way around.)
Take a few moments out of your day and answer these questions. Journal them, write them on a sticky note and put it on your desk, or on a whiteboard. Wherever you’re going to see it when you start hanging your head in your hands and thinking “man I chose the wrong college major.” My hope is that you’ll look up out of frustration, see that note, and think back to the excited laugh that bubbled in your chest when you realized, “Wow, this story idea could be something.”
The answers to these questions and many more are how I return to my manuscript every day. When the inner critic tries to tell me I’m a one-hit wonder, I remind it that I accomplished publishing a book before I could legally drink, with minimal resources, and no prior experience. That experience doesn’t tell me I’ve run out of things to say.
It just proved it can be done.
Plus, my goal with Back to You was never to reach a certain number of sales, or a certain ranking on Amazon. My singular goal was to shared this book with the world. To press “publish” on Amazon KDP.
Done, and done.
Seeing it in people’s hands was just a bonus.
So, fellow writer: if the day comes when your inner critic is louder than your inner creative, just remember, it needs you more than you need it.
Put one word in front of the other, and see what happens. Remember, all it has to do is exist.
Making it good is just a bonus.
PS: If you’re curious about Back to You and want to read it for yourself, you can find it here 🙂
