Avoid Invented Roadblocks

“Maybe I’ll be ready for an editor to look at my writing after I have a real writing routine. Not yet.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I won’t be a real writer until it’s a part of my daily life.”

Across the table, my friend looked away before continuing: They’d made a connection between what they consider their poor work habits and their eligibility for editorial assistance. It was simple. They weren’t accomplished enough. Not yet. Using an analogy to their favorite sport, they explained that their athletic mastery had taken decades of hard, focused work. They hadn’t put in the time yet as a writer, so that was that.

“I’m not sure that analogy works for me,” I replied. “You’ve put in the time. You’ve done the analysis, connected the dots, integrated ideas in interesting ways. You’re a master of your material, in a way no one else is or could be, the same way you are as an athlete. That’s what makes you a real writer. You’re already there.”

They returned my gaze. I went on.

Honor your expertise

“Other people can help you assemble your drafts. You’ve already done the heavy lifting – formulating your ideas, asking your questions, exploring the answers. That’s the important part. Editing can be done by someone else, and has no connection to a daily writing routine. You don’t need one for your creative process to have value to others.

“That’s a burden you don’t need to carry. Someone else – who has put in their work over the years – is in a good position to help you with the edits.”

My friend’s face opened up a bit. I hoped they would ponder this more, later, after we said our goodbyes. I hoped they would consider how accomplished they already are, where it really counts – in the creative intellectual labor they’ve committed to for decades. Developing an entirely different expertise before considering themselves eligible for skilled assistance? I hoped they just left that roadblock in the dust.

The conversation got me thinking about my own internal roadblocks. Do you contemplate yours? The things that, invisible to others, show up and keep you from following the creative intentions you cherish?

Comparisons

For years, I believed I wasn’t a writer. Not because I didn’t write – I even got paid to do it – but because others in my circle called themselves writers, and I couldn’t measure up to their accomplishments. I didn’t have a graduate writing degree. I hadn’t worked in a literary agency. I didn’t write books published by one of the big NYC houses. Voila! A self-invented roadblock.

An unstoppable force? An immovable object? Or is it swerveable?
Photo by Dedy Ferdian on Unsplash

My invented problem prevailed for a long time. Even after I saw that the roadblock existed, it took longer to learn the self-talk required to persuade not-a-writer me that I had other options as it came to defining myself. “No need to compare yourself.” “You are who you are – and they’re not you.” “Embody being a writer and the rest will follow.”

Assigned roles

When I wrote FLOAT: Becoming Unstuck for Writers, one of the tools I included touched on another way these roadblocks can show up. In “The Designated Artist,” I describe how some families assign roles to each member. The athletic one. The good-looking one. The flighty one. The social one. The creative one. The nerdy one. The shy one. And so on. If you’re not dubbed the creative one, does that mean you’re not allowed to cultivate a creative life? It can take distance and work to get out from under a burdensome, exclusionary definition like that.

False ideals

Sometimes the roadblock looks like a received truth. We say to ourselves, “Only supremely talented / independently wealthy / well connected people are able to do what I want to do.” Seems clear cut, right? Binary. Easy to determine who’s in and who’s out. “I’m not one of them, therefore there’s no point starting because I’ll only waste my time.” (For extra credit, we can add “…and disappoint my loved ones.”) But what if that whole construct is just fundamentally bogus? Why prejudge ourselves out of possibilities?

The myth of originality

As I’ve explored elsewhere, we can fake ourselves out of trying to pursue our important creative work because, before we even start, we give a vote of no confidence. We diminish the value of any potential contribution our work might make to the world, or even one other person. We’re not unique, original, innovative, sparkly, something. So why even bother? This is a pernicious and extremely – paralyzingly – destructive roadblock.

Save it for the real roadblocks

Plenty of roadblocks are real. The route to agent representation and traditional publishing comes to mind. Carving out the time from an intensely complex schedule. Overcoming the impact of hard-to-take and/or cruel feedback.

Internal barriers, on the other hand, might not have to exist at all. We can save our energies for the ones that can’t be vaporized or evaded with a thoughtful re-frame. Adopting a routine for querying and following literary agents might be a smart practice. Establishing the habit of an early morning writing period might give you the nourishment you need, even at the expense of some sleep. Accumulating a few go-to’s – a friend, a journal, a centering physical practice, a focused meditation – to identify and disengage from unwarranted harshness might support you. But bashing yourself for not being accomplished at something you can delegate? Not so much. Swerve the vehicle past that one. Don’t let it take you out.

It can take some work, shifting out of the self-fulfilling resignation that accompanies roadblocks like these. It can take time. It will require compassion. It can result in joy.

What do you think? I’d like to know.

~Anne

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Want to chat about your creative life? Schedule a free welcome call with me. For more creativity tools, pick up your copy of FLOAT • Becoming Unstuck for Writers, get a deck of FLOAT Cards for Writers, and visit the blog on the Anne Carley Creative website.