So I have begun the intimidating and grueling process of creating my ‘first draft’. And honestly there was nothing more scary than setting out to write that introduction. As I typed out the words, the voice in my head was screaming rather loudly and words to the effect of “Is this the best that you can do? It’s terrible. Go bake a cake instead!”
Bear with me while I introduce you to said voice. I lovingly refer to her as Natalie. I named her Natalie because it is vaguely reminiscent of both ‘nasty’ and ‘Nazi”. Natalie is both of these things (and a lot more besides!). Natalie is responsible for keeping me firmly in the land of the procrastinators for years. And I mean YEARS. After all, I am no spring chicken (ahem!) and this is not by any means the first novel that I have attempted to write. I blame Natalie for the fact that in the past I have resorted to all sorts of life-changing decisions in response to the challenge of writing a novel.
Here, for your amusement, is a little list that I like to call “Ways to avoid finishing a novel”:
- Started a children’s novel and too scared to finish? Why not get pregnant instead?
- Started a romance novel and too scared to finish? Why not get pregnant again?
- Started another novel of the ‘literary’ genre? Why not emigrate to New Zealand instead?
- Got an idea for another great novel? Why not retrain as a lawyer instead?
- Know you want to be a writer? Why not ditch the law degree and retrain as a therapist instead?
The list goes on. And on. That Natalie is a real slave driver, I can tell you.
But finally, Natalie and I had to have a talk. After all, there was nothing more that I could do to avoid writing. I had done all that I could to distract myself.
I had a lovely life that brought me joy daily. But I was still frustrated until I realised that the problem lay in my close personal relationship with Natalie.
Having a heart to heart with your inner critic
Like many toxic relationships, my relationship with Natalie was a love-hate one. I hated her and she loved me hating her. I listened to her and she loved to be listened to. It could have gone on forever but I had had enough. I needed to get real about what I really wanted from my life. I had to get real about the fact that ‘achievements’ meant nothing if you couldn’t really give a rat’s arse about the thing that you had achieved.
So one night (0ne of those dark night’s of the soul… I know you’ve had one!) I told Natalie that we were through. I was gracious enough to let her know that she could hang out with me only if she kept her mouth shut. And this was the killer, I told Natalie, that voice in my head, that I had decided to write a novel and that I didn’t care if the first draft was awful. In fact I didn’t care if the fifth/ twentieth draft was awful, I just wanted the pleasure of writing these little words: “The End”.
And so I have begun. Natalie is still hovering but I am ignoring her and embracing the idea of a sloppy first draft. I am loving the fact that I can breathe into the story and worry about technicalities and ‘art’ later.
An invitation to create slop together:
Today why not join me? Gag your inner critic (whatever their name is!) and embrace the sloppy glory of your first draft. It will be worth it, I promise.
Do you have any suggestions for ways to silence your inner critic. All suggestions gratefully received in the comments….