Post #6 - Enter the Madness

Goodness, where to start?

This novel-writing business has been a roller coaster. I can only begin to describe how I’m being stretched. I’m happy to report that I’m so far maintaining a sustainable level of stoke. I’ve lived a lot of my life in the outer realms—high highs and low lows. I’ve tried staying “up” as long as possible only to inevitably crash into the pits of despair. Then, the cycle repeats.

I’m finding that good writing requires a tenacious but tempered state of being. If I’m overly excited and enthusiastic, I struggle to focus my attention and energy. If I’m too gloomy, I get overwhelmed by my own sadness/despair and can’t engage in the work. Either end of the spectrum positions me outside of that middle sweet spot.

In the past few years, I’ve learned a great amount about my own temperament, beliefs, and emotional propensities. I did not anticipate that writing a book would be a platform on which I would put into practice so much that I’ve learned. Each step in this writing journey has challenged beliefs about myself, beliefs about the world, and my internal narrative.

I’ve become increasingly aware of an internal voice of doubt. This pernicious fellow paces back and forth in his cage like a jungle cat scorned, eyes fixed on me, daring me to set him loose. Every single thing I do related to writing this book has been subject to my own harsh scrutiny and criticism. Even now, as I write, I have to intentionally tell that doubtful part of me to shut it.

Let me tell you—this has not been an easy first few weeks. The disparity between the dream and the current reality can be harrowing. I’m constantly fighting my mind that tells me this is all a fool’s errand. “Ah, good luck, but you’ll never make it.” This is all very vulnerable, and I’m reticent to share it, but writing a novel is a highly personal task, so what the heck.

The loudest statement that I hear in my head is this: Nobody cares.

Now, if you’re reading this, you’re already evidence that this is not true. If you didn’t care, why bother to read my blog?

Well, well, well; my next aberrant line of defense is this: Okay, ONE or TWO people care, but that’s it.

Ah, we’re getting closer to reality, but we’re still in the weeds of untruth. If I actually sit down and count the people I know to care, this statement is quickly rendered false.

Ah, but wait. I always have another cognitive distortion. The sentiment will progress in this trend, minimizing the good and magnifying the bad, with no foreseeable end.

So, I’m a fairly logical person. I can see the direction this ship is headed. If I had 10,000 people who truly cared about me and my goal of writing a novel, you know what my brain would probably say? Yeah, but you don’t have 50,000 dedicated fans, so, essentially, you’re trash.

Do you see how crazy-making this is? I’m insatiable if I let myself think this way. Putting my worth in the number of people who “care” is futile.

Anyway, that’s my brain. Perhaps you can relate to some of this.

At any rate, I think it’s helpful for me to acknowledge the sometimes troubling state of my mind as a means to decrease its power over me. I’m taking something concealed in me and placing it on the table, wagging my finger at it, and saying, “Now, listen here, Bub. You don’t get to run the show while I sit idly by.” Of course, I’d like to emphatically utilize language that’s a bit more colorful, but raging at a part of myself is not helpful either. Even if it’s misguided, it’s still a piece of me.

To keep moving forward, I must constantly stand guard. And not just to curb my inner critic. On the other end, it is to nourish myself with a healthy dose of truth. I also want to avoid swinging the pendulum again and becoming arrogant (but calling it “confident”). Again, finding that sweet middle ground is key. I’m not the best writer in the world, but you know what? I’m also not the worst.

To take a much-needed step back, here’s a main point I’m dancing around: I’m exceedingly grateful for any support I receive. Just to know even one person is on my side is a huge motivator. Ultimately, though, it doesn’t matter how many people care. I didn’t set out to write a book to get attention. I’m mindful that a temptation of mine is to fantasize about adoring fans all over the world. When I’m regulated and thinking well, I can surrender the outcome of this project.

This is what building resilience looks like. I’ve done many things in life out of a desperate need to be affirmed. I’ve performed to please other people. I’ve said yes when I wanted to say no. I’ve given others the authority to determine if I’m acceptable or not. Now, I’m putting stock in myself. I was designed with purpose. I’m not writing a novel because anyone told me I should. And I’m not giving up because the world tells me I shouldn’t try.

Whew, are you still there? There have been many thoughts, ideas, voices, and perspectives floating around my mind this past week. It feels good to get some of it out on the page so I can see it. And, lucky you—you get to see it too!

BRACE YOURSELF FOR PART TWO

PART TWO

This has been a messy operation, and I’m learning to embrace the filth. I’m figuring each piece out as I go, and the process is far from linear. It’s easy for me to become disappointed or despair when I encounter a snag or results that are lower than what I hoped for. The learning point for me is to employ curiosity instead of reactivity.

My first instinct might be to take a “failure” as just that—proof that I’m not good enough and should give up. Alternatively, I’m trying to become curious instead. When I fall and scrape my knee, that inner critic is eager to jump in and say, “See? I told you so.” The healthy response sounds more like, “Huh, that didn’t work like I thought it would. How come? How can I improve?” This way, I open myself up to possibilities, making space for growth. Thomas Edison is famously quoted as saying, "I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work." Reframing “failure” as simply a point at which I can learn and improve is not always easy, but it has been vastly beneficial in maintaining motivation.

Flexibility is repeatedly necessary. I can’t control the results or whether a writing technique will work for me. But I can choose to keep pushing forward, no matter the outcome. We see what we want to see. If I call speed bumps failures, that’s what they’ll be. But if I view them as calls to improve, I can take the opportunity and keep on running.

So, that’s what I’m doing. I’m going to keep running. In these short few weeks since I formally began this endeavor, I’ve had to face down some of my worst fears, confront my inner critic, and overcome a great deal of pride.

At this point, there’s a myriad of unknowns, and I want to recognize I’m still in the early stages of this undertaking. I’m not supposed to have it all figured out. This is a work in progress.

As a wise magical dog* once said, “Sucking at something is the first step towards being sorta good at something.”

Well, that’s all for now.

Toodles,

M.J. Weller

*Jake the Dog from the highly esteemed cartoon, Adventure Time