Fear and Loathing in Marquette, Michigan

“I had seen how my ego and desires would inevitably lead me toward writer’s block and self-loathing, how worrying about critical responses or negative reactions would eventually dry up whatever creative flow I had managed to bring forth.”

-          Dinty W. Moore, The Mindful Writer

Are you a creative person? Here is a sure-fire way to find out. Make something. Write something. Draw something! Create a piece of yourself for everyone to see. Then take a good hard look at it. If you feel a crippling sense of doubt, self-hatred and horror, then you are definitely creative.

This disabling fear of failure occurs every single time I write. Sometimes it occurs immediately as my finger taps that final period on my keyboard, other times —and this is worse—the bone shaking anxiety ensues after a day of feeling empowered as an author and just as I'm about to try and relax. 
 
What is it with this utter self-loathing that individuals who choose creative paths feel? I cannot think of a single imaginative person with whom I’ve had long conversations with who hasn’t expressed some form of this intense uncertainty. We all wonder if we’re failures—misguided stranglings with a misguided, egotistical outlook on our own work. We second guess each supposed success and, if only for a moment, we feel happiness when our work is praised, it soon evanesces like dew on a hot morning. I’ve rolled this question around my mind for weeks now, and have come up with only two ideas: mental illness that behaves as both a creative person’s muse and mischievous gremlin, and the giant ego that makes us human. No one wants to fail, but no one, especially a writer, wants to live without doing what they are passionate about. But, we often do, and why? Because failure is terrifying.

When I first started my novel, I believe I was maybe a quarter of the way through my first draft, Kathryn—writer, editor, and general wonder woman—asked, after praising me for actually managing to get my story onto paper, “How do you keep,” she paused, tactfully searching for a word, “from hating yourself?”

 I didn’t have an answer for her, and gave her the only advice I’ve ever consistently given: “Just push through.”

I’ve spent a lot of time lately asking my fellow friends and fellow artists about this because I am heuristically certain that we all go through it. John Broadway, a new friend of mine, informed me that he’s been working out an idea for a novel in his mind for nearly six years and has yet to get a line written down on paper. It’s silly because simply from our conversations it's obvious that he has a brilliant way with words. What’s stopping him?

My oldest friend and a talented digital artist, Terra Maki, presented me with this gem she found online after I broached the subject of creativity and feeling like a failure.

Ah yes, the beauty of creation—followed by the crushing realization that we are shit. I asked my mother, an amateur artist/painter, about her thoughts on this phenomenon. Her assured response: “I’m not self-loathing; I just know that most people are better than me.” 

It’s only natural that we should feel this way when we’ve invested so much into our creative outlets and turn to face the world, only to see a swarming sea of sharks—friends clamoring over friends and cut-throat competitors willing to turn their backs on any sort of moral compass just to get ahead of anyone who might make the mistake to get in their way. Some days, it seems as though everyone and their neighbor is writing and competing for those coveted publishers. This reason alone is why I cannot bring myself to join any writing circles on the internet, which is encouraged by many books and essays on authorship. I’m simply too afraid of competition.

When I look at what appears to be a ferocious ocean that is the competitive world of professional authorship, I wonder, how can I hold onto my integrity as a person, live by my code of ethics and still succeed?

This is where I, and I venture to make the guess that most aspiring authors, feel lightheaded consider giving up.

But can you imagine our success if we help work with one another, put ourselves out there to be scrutinized and challenged? What if after putting in all of our time and hard work, we work harder, and we refuse to give up? Rearrange this angst and turn it into an avenue for greater accomplishment?

We might succeed. And why not? If we refuse to be stopped, is there any other option?

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