This post is really for me, but if it helps you I’m glad.
Tonight, I’m finding it hard to write this blog post. I made a deal with myself to write at least once a week. This is practice to learn to write blogs and to find my niche, angle, or business direction (whatever you want to call it) for my career.
The problem is, I finished writing a short story this afternoon that grabbed me the moment I started writing it. I started it yesterday evening and lost track of time. My inner critic didn’t get the opportunity to offer opinions.
When I finished it I felt a satisfied at the opportunity to write without judgement. As the minutes ticked by, nervousness crept in.
What if the story stinks?
This worry trickled into this blog post and completely froze my brain. The ideas aren’t the problem as much as writing. My inner critic is watching everything I type and hitting the backspace key like it’s a dopamine enhancer.
I could make excuses. I could pretend that I missed the day and post something tomorrow. The problem is, I don’t want to give myself a free pass.
I’m a writer and artist. I write fiction stories that I hope inspire, provide an escape from the craziness of the world, and help my readers smile. I create art to add more color to people’s lives and give them something special. I write my blog to teach myself how to make my fiction writing and art creation a full-time career. Eventually, I hope my blog will help other writers and artists who want a full-time career to build it. I believe it’s possible.
The first step to build the full-time career as a creative is to empty my head of all the lies well-meaning people have told me over the years about the impossibility of supporting my household with my writing and art. All the lies armed my critical voice with statements to prove that I can’t, when deep down I know I can. Proof of the possibilities is within a single search on your favorite search engine.
“Believe in you” is a statement I hear so much that it has practically lost its meaning. I can’t speak the statement and feel it. I can’t snap my fingers and suddenly feel like a superhero. But what I can do is use the same technique I used to help me with my depression, stop the lies in their tracks.
Each time a lie pops in my head about my creative pursuits like: “This is crap,” “I’m not good enough,” “No one will buy my books,” “No one will buy my art,” or “I’ll never make it,” I can step back and say, “This is for me.”
When I’m done with the piece, I can’t judge it. Instead, I have to acknowledge that stories and art need to be shared, which means it needs to get sent out to a market or published for sale no matter how I feel about it.
Will it be easy? Nope.
Will it be worth it? Yep.