Doubtfully Writing II

My last post suggested there were two reasons writers angst.

And I mean, the deep angst.

There is the shallow angst of getting out of the corner you’ve written yourself (or your characters) into, meeting word count deadlines or surviving critique…but the deep angst we go through boils down to two reasons (in my opinion).

Doubt of purpose.

I suggested a mission statement in my last post. I also think steeping yourself in friends and experiences that douse that spark before it can become a flame is key to the purposeful doubt.

The second type of the deep stuff is Doubt of Ability.

When it comes to doubt of ability, I have two questions:

Is it true?

Is it true I don’t have the ability to write? It’s very possible it is true. But I can learn. Armed with the truth “yes, I need to learn more and I will” bursts the bubble of doubt clogging my esophagus.

By the way, when all that angst is in my esophagus why is it still so easy for so much food to get by? Shouldn’t it be a suppressant?

The other question that can be a cure for the doubt of ability:

So what?

No, that’s the question: So what?

So what if I don’t have the ability to be Shakespeare or Dickens or Austen or whomever I risk comparing myself to. So what if it is a struggle to achieve a page when others write a manuscript?

If words are something more to you. If the rhythm of them move you. If characters live regardless of what others tell you.

Then the answer to the doubt of ability is

So what?

Welcome Doubt of Ability in. Offer him a cocktail. Have a seat there in the corner, DA, because I’m going to need a moment to finish this bit of writing.