When you sit down in front of your computer, you have your thoughts, your ideas, and your beliefs. You do your very best to deliver these hatchlings to others, and have to have faith that what you have to say is both vital and entertaining. Faith, such an easily swayed concept. The clay that we leave out on the shelf allowing life to mold and change at its will.
It baffles me how I can read through a chapter and feel proud of what I just accomplished, and then later read the exact same words and want to wear out the delete key. It’s the way of the human psyche. We do it with our mirrors, our jobs, and every other aspect of our lives. Why should writing be any different?
Yesterday, while exploring the Fernbank Museum I ran across something that made me question the way that I designed a character in my novel. Something that I had put tons of research into and months working out the kinks. This one little thought made me question all the hard work that I had done. This then left me doubting if I should even waste my time writing all of this because it will never see the light of day. And in a weak moment, I nearly destroyed a book.
Self-doubt is a viscous cruel tool that the brain will use to help us take easy roads. To not start that art project, to not say hello to the nice stranger, to not submit the resume. If we allow it to, it will let us remain on the couch and watch the successes of others. While we, wait for someone else to tell us that “we can do it”.
I ignored this voice in my head. I made notes of my questions and then went back to my research. It may be crap, but I will give it a chance to defend itself. I put the self doubt on the bench, and I took my place at bat. Self doubt will have to sit this one out while I will swing. I may miss, but at least I tried.