The Good

There’s so much to love about writing – the excitement of that initial spark of an idea; the stimulation of the challenge to make it work; that feeling you get when you find the perfect word/phrase/sentence/paragraph to express exactly what you mean in the most eloquent way you can; the thrill of positive feedback.

But there’s also the joy of ‘the zone’, that borderline-obsessive quality that I get when I’m in the flow and super-fixated on my story, playing it out in my head like a film as I type –  to the exclusion of everything else. The real world fades. All that matters are the characters, their problems, and how I can help them to resolve them.

The passion, the drive, the imagination it takes to be a writer…is there anything quite like it?

The Bad

I always find the start of a new project exhilarating, that first flush of creativity and energy, that motivation to get words onto the page. But then. Then the hard slog begins. What do you do when you hit a phase when the words don’t come as easily, when the writing starts to feel like work, when you feel like you’re wrestling a giant octopus in your attempt to make your plot tie together? Give up? Cry? Fling your laptop at the wall? You’ll feel like it, and that’s okay. But then. Take a breath. Take a break. Re-read and re-group. Ask for feedback. Put on your problem-solving cap and get to work. Ignore the delete button. Because, like any story, there’s light and shade to the writing process.

The Ugly

I may just be talking about myself here, but those moments of crippling self-doubt SUCK. Yes, you should work at your craft. Yes, you should be reflective. Yes, you shouldn’t be foolish enough to assume your work is perfect and can’t be made better. Yes, you should aim to be objective when you evaluate negative feedback for those gems of wisdom that ONLY a reader can offer. But that voice. That little voice that whispers that you’re talentless, that you’re an imposter, that you’re embarrassing yourself with your ambition to become a published novelist. That sometimes screams from a loudspeaker. Tell that voice to f*ck off.

Dips in mood, dips in resilience, the courage and self-belief it takes to be a writer, to bounce back after rejection…is it any wonder that mental health and creativity have been linked?

Experience

I don’t tend to struggle to think up new ideas; they often just come to me out of nowhere. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re good ideas. I mentioned the delete button earlier in this post, and it’s true that I don’t believe that it should ever be pressed when it comes to your story file. Every piece of writing that we craft has a purpose – even if it’s to teach us what not to do. Sometimes I look back at my abandoned projects with a sense of satisfaction because they’re evidence of my history of experimentation, my journey to becoming more accomplished. And while I absolutely believe in perseverance and tackling those difficult problems in your work-in-progress, it’s important to know when it’s time to move on from a project. And because you’ve evaluated the situation logically, not because a voice in your head is shouting insults at you.

In terms of negative feedback and rejection, expect them, let yourself feel that initial painful reaction, then dust yourself off, take on board what you can and move on. Hopefully to better things.

Final Thoughts

What are the good, the bad and the ugly of your writing experience?

How do you manage the bad and the ugly?