Something Chelsea Hodson said in my interview with her in the previous issue of Lonely Victories has been on my mind ever since.
“Procrastination is fear, and the only way to overcome that is to face it immediately.”
Whenever I find myself dawdling during my writing time—checking Instagram or rubbing my dog’s fuzzy belly or shoving the sticky side of a Post It note into the cracks in my keyboard to get all the stray crumbs out (don’t pretend like you haven’t done it)—it usually means I’m avoiding something I’m afraid of.
In my experience, there are two major types of fear that can crop up in the writing process:
Fear of the challenge. This kind of fear arises in uncertainty. You’ll notice it when you start thinking things like “I don’t know how to make this paragraph better!” or “I don’t know how this chapter should end!”
Fear of the subject matter. Writers who write close to the bone about their own lives often navigate the fear of having to relive frightening memories on the page.
These types of fear require opposite approaches. Here’s how to overcome them.
1. Fear of the Challenge
One of the best ways to face the fear of a challenge is to dive right into it. I like to visualize writing challenges as cold water. It sure can knock the breath right out of you when you first dive in. Once you get used to it, though, the water feels divine (an August-in-Florida mood if I’ve ever heard one).
I read once that Tony Robbins (problematic life coach who swears he’s not your guru) begins each morning with a plunge into an ice-cold river behind his house. Robbins claims that getting right into the brisk water trains him to face apprehension in other aspects of life head-on. Instead of hesitating, he just… well, he just dives in.
As corny as Robbins’ frigid plunge may sound, it starts making sense whenever I feel myself avoiding a challenge in my writing. Under these circumstances, anything that’ll get me writing again is better than procrastinating. When writers get in the habit of showing up to the page regularly, the challenges become less scary (and after a while, the water doesn’t feel quite so cold).
2. Fear of the Subject Matter
In her new poetry book Crater & Tower, Cheryl J. Fish dives into her experiences on September 11, 2001.
A native of lower Manhattan, she was living just a few blocks from the World Trade Center with her son, who was two at the time, on the day of the attacks. She was treated for PTSD, but she found that loud noises and planes were persistently triggering tears, trembling, and even some respiratory issues years after the attacks.
As you might imagine, it took time for Cheryl to feel comfortable enough to write about the effects of 9/11. Writing about extreme experiences can be a wonderful means of catharsis, but getting there (let alone finding a complex way to present the situation) is easier said than done.
To process our emotions on the page, we often need distance from the events of our past—physical distance, distance with time, or both. This rings especially true in the midst of the global pandemic!
Photo courtesy of Cheryl J. Fish.
Cheryl says it wasn’t until she spent a week with other artists at the Mount St. Helens National Volcanic Monument that she was able to enter into the trauma from 9/11 in her writing. During her time in Washington, she says that she found numerous parallels between the two disastrous events:
“The emotions I suppressed surrounding 9/11 came raging back; I kept a journal filled with scientific explanations and my overwhelmed musings when I saw the environmental changes and desolation. I began the manuscript of what has become my new book, pondering the destructive powers of nature and man; both events evoke fear and fascination.”
Photo courtesy of Cheryl J. Fish
Cheryl’s story demonstrates that writers must learn when to give their subject matter room to breathe, especially when it evokes difficult emotions. Time and distance away from the content of our writing can give us the courage we need to write closer to the bone later on. That’s why it’s important for artists to learn to recognize when an impending challenge is keeping them from writing or if their subject matter is asking for some space.
In the next issue of Lonely Victories, I’ll share more on the topic of overcoming fear in writing. Subscribe now (if you haven’t already) so you don’t miss a minute of it!
When the writing gets scary, how do you tell fear to f*** off?
“When I’m revising, I do my best to Good Will Hunting it, like the piece is a problem I just stumbled across and happen to have the skills to solve.” —Rebecca
“I use a method I learned in Dialectical Behavioral Therapy called opposite action. With all things in my life, I question if my automatic emotional response is appropriate for the situation at hand. If it is, I listen to my feelings, but if it's not, I do the opposite of what fear, anger, or depression are telling me to do (i.e. if I'm terrified to write, I fact-check those feelings and try to run—or at least crawl—toward the anxiety instead of shutting down or retreating).” —Caitlin
Do you have a tip for overcoming fear in the writing process? Share it with me in the comments of this issue!
Really Digging This
Here’s what I’ve been reading and loving lately.
Leigh Stein’s new novel, Self Care, made me cackle and cringe—at millennial women, at the Goop-esque self-care industry, and especially at myself. This book’s criticism of Girlboss feminism doesn’t sacrifice the humor of it all.
In continuing my education in antiracism, I read Ijeoma Oluo’s So You Want to Talk About Race and learned a ton. It’s an exceptional primer that gives readers actionable solutions for building a more inclusive world. If you have a parent or grandparent (or anyone else in your life) who’s expressed an interest in educating themselves on antiracism, this is the book to buy them.
You’re probably not taking too many summer road trips this year, but if you’re looking for a great audiobook, look no further than Taylor Jenkins Reid’s Daisy Jones and the Six. It’s a novel about a sensational 70s rock band that’s written like an episode of Vh1 Behind the Music. I devoured this story and loved the unique form of it. If audiobooks aren’t your thing, pick it up in paperback!
Tell me about your Lonely Victories!
“I've started taking on writing jobs to make some money for college and it's been going pretty well. And, after four years of writing short stories, I’m finally working on my very first book!” —Ajinkya Goyal
Ajinkya is a horror writer who also pens a marvelous newsletter about the creative process and the arts as a whole, which you can (and should!) subscribe to here!
What’s a lonely victory you’ve had in your writing process recently? Tell me all about it in the comments of this issue!
Want to be included in a future issue of Lonely Victories? Answer some questions on upcoming topics and I may include your response!
Lonely Victories is a Bookshop.org affiliate. Every time you shop the newsletter, you’re supporting my work.
Special thanks to Aysha Miskin for designing the banner image and providing illustrations for this newsletter, and to Becca Wucker for editing this issue.
“Writing alone can give you a very deep sense of satisfaction and lonely victory.” —Greta Gerwig