Building self-confidence and eliminating self-doubt as a writer.

       Writers are an emotional lot. We could be described as “slightly crazy” by those who know us best. Never mind that we dabble in fiction or non-fiction. Our sense of self-worth is intimately tied to our writing. And when we are good, we are very, very good. But when we are bad, we are horrid! There is nothing in between. No “almost good.”  No “partly bad.”
       Well, how can writers please all the people all the time? We can’t. And we shouldn’t try. The spectral phantom of self-doubt creeps ever so slowly into the room when we hear nothing helpful from those we trust to tell us the truth about our work. All hoorahs and kudos make for weak criticism. Even when our books win awards, or get good reviews, or we have a new manuscript accepted for publication, we feel a thrill that we can’t easily describe. But, when the thrill wears off as it inevitably does, there it is again, that wisp of self-doubt, curling around our heads like a nightmare in midday.
       As a publisher, I have the dubious honor of providing constructive criticism to those I have published and newcomers alike. As a publisher, I have the difficult job of saying, “No, that just won’t do,” when others have said, “That’s a great story!” Not a fun position to be in, to be sure. But, without honest, good criticism, writers do not grow as writers. I send authors “back to the basics” more often than those outside the publishing realm would think. I go back to the basics myself, even when write these blogs. There is certainty in keeping true to the rules and in breaking them just enough to express that personal voice we all work to develop.
       So, when do you listen to the Muse and not the editor? Never, I would answer. A good editor isn’t hell-bent on quelling your voice. A good editor is all about liberating your voice from the prison of mediocrity. Typically, poorly applied details like punctuation, syntax, imagery and organization can kill even the most talented aspiring writer’s voice. Without skill and attention paid to the craft of writing, the genius is lost in the shuffle.
       “Ooooh,” I hear you saying, “There she goes, the teacher’s head rises fast when a message is coming.”
       Well, I say, “Pay attention to the details to make your confidence grow with your skill.” Confidence comes from knowing you are right, from knowing you have plugged the cracks in the plaster with titanium instead of bubblegum.
       I admit this viewpoint comes from first-hand experience with self-doubt. It can happen at any time, any place. When I was a fulltime singer-songwriter, the audience was the true st critic I could find. If they listened, if they applauded with heart in hand, then I knew I had done well. My confidence was strengthened by their approval. When the song came across as “less than,” or my voice felt weak and insecure, I knew my self-confidence was paying the price for inattention to preparation. Never sing a song you can’t recite verbatim without the music. The slightest distraction will cause you to drop your lyric and you’ll stand there without the words to sing. I could give a long list of should do’s for performing. But you are writers, and you are looking for that self-confidence in the written word.
       I would say the rules for writing books are similar to those for writing lyrics, where the palette is short and defined by rhythm, melody and emotion. Here are the publisher’s confidence-building tips of the week:
      
       Find the best word. Agonize over your choice. Make certain it connotes more than the dictionary meaning. Make sure the subtext is rich in the words you choose to express your story.
       Do not settle for almost good punctuation. Make it perfect. Become an expert. Question every sentence. Make sure you are accurate. There are good books to help you. Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style is still the quickest way to great punctuation.
       Murder the passive voice. Find it in your manuscript and kill it. Nothing will help your writing more than imbuing it with the action and in-the-moment intensity of present time. Even stories told from the omniscient third person can be intensely present if the author pays attention to active voice over passive voice.
       Be concise. Less is more. When Albert Camus in his novel, THE STRANGER, moved the action from a week ago through the morning and into the early afternoon in the space of three sentences, I became a believer in brevity.
       Show, do not tell. Perhaps the most difficult skill to attain is the art of showing what is happening, not describing it. This requirement appears in every how-to-write article, book and class. This is the only way to pull your reader into your tale and keep him there. Without the ability to discern the difference between the two, your writing will suffer.
       Learn by reading. Pay attention to how the great writers write. Practice their example. Apply their rules to your writing and then find your own way to sculpt the resulting passages to identify your touch.
      
       Self-doubt is borne of imprecision and indecision. When you are certain you are right, self-doubt fades into the shadows and evaporates with the light your certainty shines on your work. Not everyone will agree with your writing style. But if your craft is solid, even the nay-sayers may come to respect your not-so-conventional way with words. At the very least, you won’t worry about their opinions, and you will take away what is of value from even the most vicious of critics.