Keeping (and Losing) the Faith
By Cathy Yardley | April 5, 2019 |
Photo by Farther Along
I recently moved from a home on the outskirts of Seattle to a very small town in a rural area, six hours away. Gearing up for selling our old house, buying our new house, and then moving took up most of last year. The year prior to that, I had a different set of challenges. I’d been diagnosed with breast cancer, fortunately in early stages, and it had taken up a good chunk of the year getting things like surgery and radiation handled. Both years meant taking a hit on my writing and my coaching work.
Over the course of all of this, my mojo went missing. My writing was definitely a step off. Hell, my whole life was a few bubbles off plumb.
I was having a crisis of confidence.
I was missing my faith.
If there’s one key component in a writer’s toolbox, it’s faith. Faith is the invisible fuel that propels us forward in the face of critique and rejection. It’s the scaffolding that keeps us from collapsing when we see systematic injustice. It’s the rope that we cling to when we’re trapped in a blinding blizzard of doubt, convinced that our writing is wretched and we should abandon all hope and pursue something more stable, like running a three-card-monte game.
Faith is elusive, and by its very nature, illogical. You can’t learn faith. You can’t study it or buy it. You either have it, or you don’t.
So what do you do when you lose faith in your writing, and yourself?
This is something I’ve wrestled with for two years. More than that, actually, but in the past two years I’ve felt it most acutely.
One of my favorite sayings is: “Whenever God closes one door, He opens another. But man, those hallways are a bitch.”
Sometimes, you’re in the hallway. It will seem like you’re sentenced to live there forever, like you’re going to be stuck in darkness, feeling blindly along walls, with all exits locked against you.
There are going to be times when you just don’t have it in you. For some people, this is due to outside circumstances, like illness or bankruptcy or bad break-ups. For others, it’s the internal environment: mental illnesses such as depression, anxiety, bipolar.
A lot of good, well-intentioned people are going to tell you that it isn’t that bad (or that it could be worse), that they believe in you, and that you’ll get through it.
They’re not wrong, necessarily. But it won’t be easy to hear, either. And there will be times when it won’t help. You’ll still feel the sting and the overwhelm and the despair. You’ll still feel lost.
My best advice is: try not to make it worse by feeling that you have to feel better. That’s just adding insult to injury. No one needs that.
On the other hand, don’t isolate yourself from these people who love you, even if you can’t accept what they’re saying just yet. (Unless they’re trying to pressure or guilt you. Like the doctor says: if it hurts, don’t do it.)
I’ve learned that you can’t force faith. If you’re not feeling it, you’re not feeling it – and if you try and believe that you’ve got faith that you don’t have, it creates what’s known as cognitive dissonance. You experience psychological stress because you’re holding two contradictory beliefs in place… for example, “I am confident in my writing” vs. “my writing sucks a big bag of rocks.” You know you’re lying to yourself, one way or another – and it freaks you out.
That said, I have another favorite saying. “You can’t think your way to right action, but you can act your way to right thinking.”
The basic theory behind this aphorism is, you can’t logic yourself into a better frame of mind. If you could, you’d have done it by now. But you can reverse engineer your mental state, reprogram it as it were, by doing the physical actions, following the routines, and slowly but surely getting yourself out of the damned hallway.
For writers in general, and for me specifically, that means writing.
Yes, you’ll take breaks. We’re not machines. You’ll take hiatuses to recharge, and you’ll focus on self-care. But getting into the routine of writing, getting support structures in place so you continually write no matter what your emotional state, will help you weather the worst of the turbulence.
Even better, these routines will help you when further crises strike – and strike they will. It’s the nature of the beast and the nature of the business, the nature of life itself. Working on strengthening your faith and your sense of self is important, don’t get me wrong. But for those times when you don’t have the energy or the reserves to believe, you’ll have an ace in your pocket. Muscle memory. Practice long enough, and you’ll be able to keep moving even when your heart has given up hope.
Best of all, you can set up routines that don’t need a great deal of confidence.
You’re not trying to write the great American novel – you’re just writing two sentences.
You’re not trying to get a multi-million-dollar world rights deal. You’re just sending out one query letter.
You’re not trying to become the next Hugh Howey of the self-pub world. You’re just going to try formatting a single ebook.
You’re going to look at the next simplest physical action, and do that, mindfully, with no thought to future consequences. When you’re paralyzed by what might happen if you make the wrong decision, this will help loosen the chokehold of anxiety.
It’s not as good as confidence, admittedly. But it beats the hell out of despair.
I’ve been in the hallway for two years. I’ve been there before, and I know I’ll be there again. But at least now I know it’s a way station, not a life sentence. And I know that, with the help of some friends and some physical actions, I can make it a little easier on myself… and finally open that door on the other side.
Have you experienced a crisis of confidence in your writing? What have you done to get yourself out of a slump?
Cathy Yardley has published over 33 novels, novellas, and serialized fiction, both traditionally and independently. In 2011, she started RockYourWriting.com, with the mission of helping novelists make a living. She has helped hundreds of authors as a developmental editor, writing coach, and through her “plot sessions” – one-on-one calls that get authors from concept to plot points in one hour. She’s also written the Rock Your Writing series of reference books, taking authors through the writing cycle, from concept to completion. Sign up for her newsletter, and you can receive free downloads to help you plot and revise your novel.
Cathy, you are such a trouper and I hope after that battle with cancer, that your new home will be the perfect sanctuary to heal and to write. Yes, so often it’s about taking just one small step in the direction you want to go.
I haven’t faced a lack of confidence in the writing, but I’ve gone through slumps where I write such awful dreck I wonder why I do it, esp. when there’s no shortage of great books. But it’s my nature to not give up because my whole life I’ve learned more from my failed experiments than the successes, I know I will get through the difficult times. So I spend more time in self-study, reading, and working on an aspect of craft. But I have to write.
I’ve often thought that writers have to have a certain audacity to write. Belief that what they write matters. Why else would we do it? It’s a tough business to be in. So yes, faith! And hope! And above all love! I always tell my kids that passion for something means you love it so much, you’re willing to suffer and sacrifice for it.
Be well, Cathy. Btw, I lived in Eastern WA for many years (14 total) and loved the rolling hills. Where will you be?
Thanks, Vijaya. Faith, hope, and love, indeed. And not giving up. Thank you for commenting! (Oh, and I moved about an hour outside of Spokane… Really rural. It has been adjustment, but it is lovely here.)
I know that area. Very quiet and beautiful.
Wise words, Ms. Yardley. Thank you for sharing them. I’m reminded of the adage to “fake it ’til you make it,” and there are times when it’s sound advice.
My dedication to my writing suffered in the past two years. And I often doubt my ability as a writer. But each time I tell myself I’m giving up, I’m pulled back in. When I give myself space to write out all that I’m thinking and feeling, I’m happier. More grounded and balanced. Writing is how I figure out what’s in my heart and mind.
Lately, I’ve been reminding myself that writing something doesn’t mean I must try to publish it. Not every word or phrase is worth publishing. Some are too private to share. Others are just too piss-poor to let leave my desk. All of that is part of the writing life.
And, I’m reminded that many other writers face doubts, crises of faith, and imposter syndrome. I’m in good company, and feeling any or all of those things reminds me that I am a writer.
It’s a wacky, stressful, heartbreaking, and wonderful ride. And I’m fortunate to share it with so many others.
“Writing is how I figure out what is in my heart and mind.” That’s it, exactly. I learn about myself from everything I write, stuff I can’t seem to learn any other way. Thank you so much for commenting!
Hey Coach, It’s funny, but I was just wondering about you the other day, and said something to Mo about needing more Cathy in my life.
So, regarding your questions. Who, me? Slump much? Oh yes. I’m sure my wife would say I hit crisis mode with annoying regularity. And having a book rejected a by a couple dozen editors has an amazing ability to put one in a long dark hallway. And, you’re right – for me, writing is the only solution. It sort of feels like stepping into a side-door along the hallway. Like, you know it’s not the doorway out of the corridor, that you’ll still have to navigate to the end. But there’s light in there, maybe some snacks and beverages, and hopefully some laughter.
There’s something that always draws me back to the page (or to open one of the side-doors). The characters. I’ve said this before, and I think people get it, but for me, it’s huge. Maybe it’s because I’ve been working on a series with the same extended cast of characters for more than a decade.
Since I’m working on a “prequel” to the original story, I start to feel like Marty McFly. When I’m in crisis, I feel like I’m pulling out the picture, and seeing my siblings fading. Like, if I don’t get through Vahldan’s and Elan’s story, Ainsela and Thaedan and Rohdric and Haelya’s pictures will start to fade, and maybe disappear. I simply can’t let that happen. So I have to get up the gumption to pop the Biff in my writing life in the mouth. And, you guessed it, my Biff is self-doubt (you know: *head nuggies* and “hello, McRoycroft? Is there an actual writer in there?”) My Biff is always telling me that the market is all, and that I’m not good enough, so I shouldn’t bother. But, damn, don’t you just love to hate Biff? Yeah, it can feel good to give him a good shot to the jaw. Even if I do it inside a side-door off the main hallway.
You always amaze me, and today is far from any sort of exception. Looking forward to having more Cathy in my life. Wishing you serenity and peace and good health in your new home, my friend.
You have me choking up, my friend. Your stories are wonderful, and I can’t wait to see them out in the world. Your perseverance is inspiring. Punch out Biff and keep going. He’s a butthead anyway. :)
Thank you Cathy for your words of wisdom. I have been in the hallway for awhile, but I have hope and optimism. Thanks again!
I am glad things are looking up. Thank you for commenting!
Thank you, Cathy. Your advice is so sensitive, helpful, and thoughtful. Best wishes to you in your new home!
Thank you! I appreciate the support!
Excellent post! After my brother died, I had that exhausted, bottomless grief. Nothing could make it just go away, but I couldn’t just quit. So, it was one foot, then the other foot walk through my days. I’d make a list: wake up, brush teeth, get dressed…etc. until the fog lifted. Best of luck on your journey. Thanks for sharing!
I am so sorry for your loss, Elizabeth. Grief is one of the most paralyzing. Sometimes small steps are all you can take. Thank you for sharing this.
Here’s a truth I’ve learned: things change.
What feels not like a hallway but a pit, is never a pit. It only feels that way for a time. Give it time and not only will you begin to see it differently, it will actually become different.
My writing life has been like that. There have been bad days, bad reviews, discouraging dead ends, the emptiness of not knowing how to solve a problem. But it never lasts.
I have faith and that is because I’ve also had plenty of good days, nice reviews, corners rounded and light bulbs lit. Things get better and I have faith, Cathy, that’s true for you too. You’re here. You’re writing, honestly and eloquently. That’s proof.
Hang in there. Good health and happiness to you. Six hours from Seattle sounds like exile to me, but may it prove all nature and serenity for you. Will you be at Un-Con in November?
Thanks, Benjamin. It has felt quite a bit like a pit at times. But as you say, things change. I appreciate the encouragement! And yes, moving did feel like exile at first. I now live in 20 acres, after living in suburbs or apartments all my life. It has been strange! And yes, I am going to UnCon. Hope to see you there!
Thank you for this, Cathy. I had a long slump after my now-ex was arrested for a sex crime, but just last month, almost 4 years later, I’ve finally self-published the book that I was readying to publish back then.
I got through that 4-year slump by doing *something* that involved writing. It didn’t have to be that project (that seemed too big, too stressful, too many decisions that I no longer had the emotional or financial wherewithall to make), but something. Not every day, but enough that I still flexed those muscles. And I’d take baby steps towards the publishing project. Eventually, the baby steps added up and I could decide that it was time for the big leaps.
I’m still working on the routines aspect of it, and hoping that I have the discipline to get that going to the point when a regular writing time becomes an automatic habit. But I’ll get there. I keep trying, keep taking steps.
Natalie — doing things that are “writing adjacent” are still great steps, as you’ve proven. And congrats on getting your project out into the world! I am so happy for you. Keep going! And thank you for sharing!
Cathy,
You are such an inspiration! I could relate to everything you were saying in this article. I’ve been in the hallway for over a year now, waiting for a final move to the east side, but I continue to write, mostly poetry, but it keeps the muscle memory alive, as you said. I hope we can reconnect someday as I know I’ll be shopping in your neighborhood since there are no big box stores in mine. I’d love to buy you a cuppa coffee and catch up.
Be well, my friend.
~ Sue
Oh Sue, I miss you and the Friday morning coffee crew so much! We’ll definitely connect when you’re more settled… I’ll make it happen. Looking forward to seeing you again soon. :)
Cathy:
Lord, how I needed to read your post! After three rejections in as many days (I got a streak going — maybe 56 in a row, a la Joe Dimaggio?), I was ready to check out jobs cleaning houses or loading FedEx trucks. Now I think I’ll give this game a ride for one more day. Thanks for the lift.
You are very welcome. Thanks for commenting!
This is just a beautiful post, Cathy. I’ve definitely gone through a few crises of faith in my career, and you’re right–sometimes all there is to do is put one foot in front of the other.
Thank you so much.
Thank you for this, Cathy. Your advice truly helps.
What have I done?
-I do (at least) one thing every day to move my career forward
-I celebrate my victories–no matter how small
Cathy, you’re amazing. I miss your humor, your brilliance, and how much you helped us. Besides, you’re fun! This is reflected in your writing, which is present day and appreciated by your readers! Such big upheavals you’ve mentioned, each one needing time and reflection to move beyond. Saying a prayer for you today! Thanks for the advice. Hugs, Vicky
Cathy, I’m so glad you are back. I had just discovered the Rock Your Writing series when I learned about your illness. We are all so happy to see your return.