Confidence When the Writing is Hard

Or: Pushing through, taking breaks, and building a creative process

We have so much prickly pear where I live, and it’s always hiding right where you least expect it. I’ll be trotting along with my dog, and then bam! (I think the metaphor here is obvious.)

For a few weeks, I’ve been in what I call a state of general stuckery.

Basically ever since I finished drafting a book a month ago, I’ve been feeling meh about everything.

And while sure, I have chipped away at three other books in the meantime, and I’ve made some progress in each of them, my gains have been small steps instead of big bounds…

And ugh.

Ugh.

I am at my least happy when I’m in one of these funks. When flow is elusive and each project I poke at requires heaps of thinking. Heaps of cutting. Heaps of reworking.

To be clear: thinking and arranging and assembling are all necessary at certain points in my process. And I actually enjoy them during revisions. But during the drafting process? When all I want to do is see word count go up 📈 and then type The End?

Well, this is when I get the most frustrated with myself.

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I’ve talked about my “circling process” before. But for the uninitiated, it’s basically where I regularly reread what I’ve written, edit as I go, and then proceed onward.

As a person who writes entirely based on the emotional state of her characters, I have to regularly reread so that I can make sure I’m following the emotional dominoes correctly.

Often times, when I get stuck while drafting, it’s because I wrote a character behaving out of character. And as soon as I spot (or rather feel) in the course of my reread were the emotions went awry…

Well, I fix and move onward.

In other words, I’m accustomed to writing lots of pages. Then cutting lots of pages because they don’t '“feel right.”

I’m also accustomed to backtracking and brainstorming and mind mapping and voice memo-ing. And I’m accustomed to my current state of moaning and despairing and being generally unpleasant as I feel my cortisol rise, rise, rise…

Because what if I NEVER figure out the words?! What if this book is the one where it never, ever comes together?

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Fortunately, I have enough evidence to the contrary by now. And as Brad Stulberg puts it so very eloquently, confidence comes from evidence.¹

I’ve written a lot of books in the past seventeen years. I’ve been in this exact state of general stuckery more times than I can possibly count. And even the books where every chapter was a constant state of circling and cutting and frustration, I’ve always figured out the Right Story eventually.

Always.

It might have taken literal years, but I have always figured it out.

And for the reader, there’s no difference between my flow and my frustration. By the time the book is printed, I will have edited and polished until it’s all flow on the page.

I know this because I have done this. And so I have confidence I will get through this stuckery just as I have many times before.

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But ugh.

Ugh.

This is my least favorite part of my creative life. The part where gains are so tiny as to be nearly imperceptible. The part where my left brain has to push against my right. The part where I’m still tasting the high of typing The End in a different book, so I’m hungry for a fresh hit of those endorphins…

But alas. This is simply not how my process works.

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After almost a month of simmering in this state of self-loathing, I can practically taste the cortisol.

I’m squeezing the baby bird too tightly.

I’m beating myself up over my “failures” to finish a second book in the past thirty days²

And I’m not even making small gains anymore so much as moving sentences around that I’ll probably move right back when I have more clarity.

So yesterday, after lunch, I made myself stop.

I did not brew my usual post-lunch coffee. I did not sit back at the computer.

Instead, I read a book, cover to cover. Then I trained hard at the dojang. Then I played a made-up game called driveway ball with my daughter until sunset.

Now here I am, using my usual 5AM writing session to write this newsletter instead of thinking about a book’s next scenes or draft new words in a project.

Do I hate it? YES. I absolutely hate it. My 5AM writing session is my most favorite time of the day. A sacred creative time where my brain is sharpest and that first cup of coffee always tastes the most delicious…

Plus, just as a rule, I’m not great with “taking time off.” At least not in the traditional sense (it’s not a control thing but an energy thing, I swear!).

Yet I need to loosen my grip on the baby bird.

I need to accept that maybe my creative well needs refilling and I’m actively losing ground instead of gaining it.

So that’s my mission for the next day or two. I might game a bit³. I’ll definitely read. I’ll get outside with the dog and practice my forms. I’ll play more driveway ball. And I’ll just see see how it goes.

Evidence from the past suggests the spark and clarity will return. I just have to be patient.⁴

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But hey, Sooz, what if I’m a beginner? What if I have no evidence on which to base my confidence?

Well, get started building your evidence.

I was a beginner once. I taught myself everything I needed to know about writing thanks to an internet connection and a library. And I wrote and I revised and I wrote some more. I read books on craft and took workshops when I could afford them. I emulated other people’s processes and meticulously applied what seemed to work while discarding the bits that didn’t.

Now here I am. After fourteen published novels later (and with many more finished or in the works), I have a very, very clear writing identity. I know how I create stories and what works best for my brain, my goals, my voice—and I know I can finish projects, even when all I want to do is rip out my hair out and scream BEHAVE, CHARACTERS! BEHAVE!

I did the thing, which built the evidence, and now I have the confidence.⁵

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One side note: I would urge you to detach yourself from the external outcomes of the writing.

Or at least do so as much as you can.

Trust me, I know how hard it is to compartmentalize, and that’s not what I’m urging you to do here. Life will impact art, and it took near death for me to really understand and see that.

But! But. Keeping your creativity as separate from your success as you can will only lead to positive gains, both in your work and your life.

Just as losing at a taekwondo tournament has no actual bearing on whether or not I can do a powerful side kick tomorrow at the studio, the sales of my book have no bearing on whether or not I can write through my current stuckery.

Sales and commercial success are something I cannot control. I can drive myself toward that outcome by being the best I can be at all times, but I can’t ultimately make anyone buy or enjoy my books.

Creative success, however? Pushing through stuckery and writing more books? Oh yeah. I’m completely in charge right there.

I just have to keep showing up and doing the thing.

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Okay, off I go now to intentionally…not…create something for today. (Ugh! Ugh!) Wish me luck.⁶

I was supposed to do the next Primer Series post this week, but then I felt inspired to write about squeezing baby birds and building evidence instead. So I promise the next post will be a resumption of the Primer Series!

Until then!

💚 - Sooz

1. I highly recommend his book The Way of Excellence!!

2. Yes, I know I have unrealistic expectations. But I really did think maybe I could finish a second book before April was over!

3. I bought Slay the Spire on sale a few months ago, and I’ve been avoiding playing because I know it will take over my life…But maybe today is the day I let that happen!

4. I am very bad at that word. Paaaayshennnnssss.

5. Mostly. Obviously there are plenty of days of despair and doubt in my life. *waves tiredly at the last four weeks*

6. Wait. I wrote this newsletter. Does that mean I’ve already failed at not creating? 🤔