Addressing Anxiety
By Cathy Yardley | August 2, 2019 |
Photo by Stuart Anthony.
Being a writer often means hosting a legion of insecurities.
Impostor syndrome? Check.
An overload of empathy, perhaps – creating an over-sensitivity to what’s going on with other people? Yup.
Fear of rejection? Absolutely.
There are rarely writers who glide through the day, getting their however-many-thousand words on the page before switching gears and then gracefully promoting with that perfect balance of humility and self-confidence. Those that do appear to “have it all” usually have the shiny gloss of an Instagram post: that sense of “naturally staged” perfection, something that doesn’t allow the murky, ugly underbelly to show.
There’s a reason for that. Being vulnerable is, quite frankly, terrifying. Also, it’s all too easy to be judged, quickly and brutally, especially in today’s anonymous comment culture. Who wouldn’t try to curate their presence in the world? Who doesn’t? If we’re honest, no one is completely raw when it comes to their outward-facing persona. Even people who proclaim “I try to be my most authentic self” are often making a performative statement.
At its heart: anxiety.
We’re usually an introverted bunch, as well, far more comfortable with digging deep and talking about writing or whatever other subjects we’re passionate about, exhausted by small talk, appalled by anything that might be taken as self-aggrandizing (and of course, talking about our writing feels more like boasting and less like sharing, so we shy away from it.) Our work tends to happen in isolation. We can go for long chunks of time without interacting with anyone, if we so desire.
And yeah, we so desire. Quite a bit.
For many of us, the work can go in fits and starts, and a wellspring of creativity dries up into a desert of writer’s block. If or when we lose momentum, we can fear that we’ll never write again.
We can be a weird little bundle of neuroses. Sometimes that feeds the work. More often than not, though, it drains the writing and the writer alike.
How, then, to get past the anxiety?
- Identify what it is. What, exactly, are you afraid of? As I’ve already pointed out, fear takes a lot of forms. What is your particular flavor of anxiety? (This can be tough work, by the way. If you’re scared of something, you’re going to do your best to hide that fear from yourself because, hello, you’re afraid of it. Also, fear usually comes in a knot: it’s rarely just one thing, but rather a comorbid condition.) The best way I’ve found to process this is to journal about it. Write in stream-of-consciousness. Ask “If I were afraid of something, what would it be?” (that takes some of the pressure off) or “What do I need to know about my anxiety? What would help me the most?”
- Come up with a plan. Once you’ve identified fears, the next thing to identify are possible avenues to address them. Sometimes, this means coming up with a rational counter-argument. For example, if you’re afraid of rejection and consequently not querying or not self-publishing, narrow down what exactly is freaking you out, and see how you can mitigate it. Usually knowledge helps. If you’re afraid of being judged negatively, turn to your most supportive friends and ask them for their opinion first, so you know you’re putting your best foot forward. If you’re feeling more and more wrung out by either the world at large or some specific person’s drama, then find ways to disengage (for example, go on a social media and news fast, or find a way to avoid the emotional vampire.)
- Validate yourself and your feelings. In my opinion, one of the worst parts about having anxieties around writing is the one-two punch of not only feeling the anxiety, but feeling stupid or unworthy for having the anxiety in the first place. Even if your fear isn’t necessarily rational, it is meaningful, it is relevant, and it is yours. You don’t have to justify your fears to anyone else. Even if you don’t want the fear, sometimes it’s worse to hear other people say “that’s silly” or insist that you “shouldn’t” be feeling it.
- Develop a supportive writer network. Fear grows with inactivity and isolation, especially when the fears are emotional. One of the best ways to counter this is to create a routine where you check in with other writers. This can mean joining a writing group that meets weekly or monthly, or joining a local chapter of a genre group, or creating your own critique group. There are also writing conferences you can attend, if you have the means. If, like me, you live in a rural area, you might look at online groups (like Writer Unboxed!) and check in on their Facebook page regularly. Find people you connect with, and message them, or comment on their posts. Keep in mind: you’re looking for supportive. If you find yourself feeling more insecure and anxious, then they’re not the right group for you.
- Help another writer. Even if you’re a relative beginner, you’re probably more knowledgeable than you think. And even if you’re not teaching, more advanced writers can always use help, with promotion or with beta reads, or whatever. Getting out of your own head and doing something to help a fellow writer can help shift you out of a negative place.
Please keep in mind: these are relatively simple hacks, but they are not easy. When you’re in the grip of anxiety, picking up the phone or attending a writer’s meeting can feel impossible. It’s easier to binge Netflix and plow through snacks than it is to face a blank page and journal about your insecurities, and at least those provide some short-term comfort. And it’s very, very easy to slip into the downward spiral of using yourself as an emotional punching bag, judging your work and your very being and finding them lacking.
I’ve been there. Trust me. I get it.
But there is a way out. You can feel better, and write more. All it takes is some mindfulness, some kindness, and being open to help.
If nothing else, please feel free to email me: cathy@rockyourwriting.com. I love writers, I love talking shop, and barring internet outages, I’m always around.
What are your biggest fears as a writer? Are they around the writing itself, or what comes after – querying, publishing, or promotion? What are your stumbling blocks?
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.
I don’t fear rejection because it is information that helps me move forward.
I don’t fear exposing myself because what causes readers to want to connect is honesty.
If I ever feel disappointment it is not disappointment in a competitive industry but disappointment in myself, and I can do something about that.
Family and friends have no expectations for my writing and only cheer me on, glad that it makes me happy.
Writing is a challenge and why do something that is easy? Stretching feels good.
Writing is fun. Golf is not. I’ll take writing.
Writing is important. Getting rich is not. I’ll take writing.
True power is not provoking people to fear and hatred, but inspiring them to courage and love. I’ll take writing.
If no one else reads my writing, then at least I will get to read the stories that I most want to read. That’s reason enough to write them.
Writing doesn’t cause anxiety, it relieves it. So why not write?
This is so lovely!
I agree completely, yet doubts and fears still remain. But when I write, am deeply engaged, they disappear. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
It’s great that you feel this way, Benjamin. Honestly, this article wasn’t for you. It sounds like you’ve got a fantastic support base, which not everyone has, and you don’t have anxiety issues. In my experience, this is not the norm, but it’s always lovely to see.
The portion of this blog that hooked me most was “exhausted by small talk”. I have no patience for small talk, gossip, or who said what to whom on last night’s TV program. I can tolerate it only for a limited amount of time before I run out of there like a bank robber on the lam.
For years, I was the freak in any group, wanting to talk about something substantive – not just gossip.
But… and this is a large exception… being a part of that kind of group and listening to their conversation has enlarged my vocabulary of characters for my writing. Sometimes we need to get out of our comfort zone to expand our writing.
Thanks for that little prod, Cathy.
Author Daniel Jose Older wrote (on Twitter, no less): “Words are my super power, small talk my kryptonite.” Most introverts would rather talk about something substantive, even if it’s “weird”, than engage in pleasantries. There’s this great cartoon about being an introvert, using a hamster ball analogy, that I love: https://themetapicture.com/how-to-interact-with-the-introverted/
I agree, sometimes we need to get out of our comfort zones, especially for our writing. I also know when I need to recharge! :)
Hello Cathy.
I align myself with Benjamin Brinks’ comment. It speaks for me.
When I catch myself feeling depressed about my work, or read about writers’ anxieties and insecurities, writer’s block, rejection, etc., I remember an old New Yorker cartoon. The image shows an open door with “psychiatrist” stenciled at the top. A man with his back to us stands in the entry, and facing him is another man with a beard. “Snap out of it!” reads the balloon as the bearded man delivers a hard slap. The caption reads “one-session psychotherapy.”
This will probably “strike” some as callous, but that doesn’t mean the cartoon isn’t useful. For those of us who spend hours at a time in isolation, self-pity can be an occupational hazard.
If a writer does not feel anxiety, or at least if they are not stopped by it or feel pain as a result of it, then that’s wonderful, that’s something I want for all of us. But for writers who feel anxious — whether that’s a generalized anxiety, or something stemming from, say, mental illness like chronic depression or anxiety disorders or bipolar — it’s not so facile a fix, and when people point out that they should simply get over it, it throws gas on the fire, because not only are they stuck, but they’re somehow self-indulgent or weak on top of it. It compounds the problem.
Simply using brute psychological force to “snap out of it” has not, in my experience, been a long term solution. Dissolving the fear, approaching it with compassion and deliberate actions (as I’ve outlined above), tends to be the most effective.
And for those reading, if you suspect that your anxiety might be deeper seated, something more than a garden-variety distress, I urge seeking help. It can make a huge difference. Honestly, I was going to post about writing and mental illness initially, and I’ve been trying to write THAT column for the past year, but I just couldn’t. Too personal, too unwieldy, just can’t wrap my arms around it yet. Maybe next time.
Unfortunately, anxiety doesn’t work that way. One can’t just “snap out of it.” It’s a complex mental, emotional, physical, psychological, spiritual state. All of those.
Cathy, I loved your post. You perfectly described how fear and self-questioning can come to dominate one’s life and drain one’s creativity. And your suggestions have all worked for me.
Just about every time someone has told me “relax”, “snap out of it”, or “why don’t you just NOT feel (whatever)”, my response has been:
“Oh my God! Thank you! HAD I ONLY KNOWN THIS WAS THE SOLUTION WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THAT BEFORE??”
(Note sarcasm. )
Maybe it’s because I’m a coach, but I see way more writers with anxiety than without. I know it’s certainly something I’ve dealt with, even after twenty years as a professional (read: paid) writer under my belt. I’m glad that you enjoyed the article!
“Just don’t” for anxiety is about as helpful as “just don’t” for bleeding. If my body bleeds, there are things I can do to ameliorate that; but I can’t decide to “just not” bleed.
Thank you so much for this article. It was exactly what I needed today. Just knowing that there are others out there struggling with the same things while trying to create helps immensely.
I’m so glad it spoke to you. Thank you!
Yes, I realize I’m coming late to the party — but this excellent post from yesterday is still here, with its cluster of thoughtful and heartfelt replies, so I’ll yield to the impulse to participate.
I think my anxieties mostly gather themselves around two poles: First, can I possibly organize all this material into a complete narrative worth reading? Second (assuming publication), what about all those critics who are sure to pop out of nowhere and pounce on some detail and peck it to death? Or shrug and dismiss my work as mediocre?
Years of reflection and adequate therapy have told me where those anxieties come from, but of course they don’t disappear. “That voice will be with you for the rest of your life,” a wise and supportive friend once told me, and his statement was oddly reassuring because it defined “that voice” as an entity with a source separate from me.
I wish I’d seen this sooner! And yes, it speaks to me. I have so much anxiety about my writing, it’s a wonder I’m not under my bed most of the time. I’ve been published, but I have anxiety attacks when I tell people. It takes effort not to say, “YOU DON’T WANT TO READ THAT!”
Three cheers for all the people who grew up to not feel this way.
I have found a group and that helps.
But what is a mystery to me is why–when I feel such terror about sharing my work and about not sharing my work and about failing and succeeding–I keep writing and trying. You’d think it would make sense to stop. But the only thing worse than the anxiety is not writing. So I feel the fear and write anyway. I send it out anyway. I sometimes share my work anyway.
Thanks for writing this and for understanding.