Eight Principles To Help Aspiring Writers Conquer Their Fear Of Inadequacy
Talent isn't enough. Sometimes, nothing's harder than getting over yourself.
I recently tried to explain the concept of ‘inhibition’ to my younger son.
“You know how sometimes you want to do something or say something, but then your brain tells you ‘no, that would be bad or embarrassing, don’t do that’?”
He pondered this.
“No.”
Adults drink to get into this headspace. My son lives there for free.
I could learn from that total lack of ego.
I’ve had this Substack since late 2023. Every time I finish reading a book, I imagine writing something about it. Sometimes I even do.
But it’s been dormant so long that even my husband unsubscribed.
Why did I never post anything? Because I stopped myself before I start with too many questions:
What do I want to be known for? What if I box myself into a topic I don’t really care about?
What if I disappoint my readers because I can’t write regularly?
Do I want an audience? What if I get criticized or harassed?
What if non-fiction writing ends up sucking all my time and energy? What if I fall behind on my responsibilities, or never get time to write fiction?
Is this where I want to put my time and energy, considering that I’m trying to spend less time looking at a screen?
How can I make money off of my work? What if it’s too complicated to figure out?
That’s a lot of worries! But when you boil them down, they all stem from one thing:
The fear of inadequacy.
Feeling Good, a classic work about cognitive-behavioral therapy, could have been written about me. When I read it, I realized why I spent my 20s working on projects, starting to attract an audience, then running away screaming.
I was deathly afraid of creating anything that was less than perfect, disappointing anyone who wanted something from me, taking on more than I could handle, and being judged or criticized.
I was trying to keep my world small.
I spent my 30s rewiring my brain with journaling, therapy and writing. Over time, I developed eight principles that helped me overcome the fear of inadequacy.
I review them every morning. I’m sharing them in hopes they can help other aspiring authors focus on their work, accept imperfections, and put themselves out there.
Principle 1: Self-esteem like a mountain. Ego like a grain of sand.
A few years ago, I was the fattest, clumsiest newbie in a Zumba class filled with former cheerleaders and professional salsa dancers.
At least, that’s how it felt.
I flailed along to the instructor’s commands, painfully out of step. My brain knew no one was judging me. But my heart was filled with shame.
I’d recently read Chade-Meng Tan’s “Search Inside Yourself,” and his secret to self-confidence came to mind:
I think of self-confidence as the ability to be as big as Mount Fuji and as small as an insignificant grain of sand at the same time.
As big as Mount Fuji? The only thing that felt as big as Mount Fuji was my butt.
Then I realized I’d had it backwards all my life.
My ego was as big as a mountain. My self-esteem was as small as a grain of sand.
No wonder I always felt so awkward.
"Ego like a mountain, self-esteem like a grain of sand" turns you into the center of the universe.
You feel like the way you act and the things you do are important to everyone around you, who all happen to be better than you. Your worth as a person — already pretty shaky — depends on their judgments.
You need to show the world how amazing your work can be. But anything you do had better be perfect. It might be safer not to do anything at all.
Either way, keep your vast collection of flaws out of sight.
"Self-esteem like a mountain, ego like a grain of sand" makes you realize that you’re just another human.
The good news? So is everyone else.
No one has some special power to validate or deny your sense of worth — even if they’re famous, mean, or important to you. You’re equal to everyone.
Your value isn’t at stake. It never was. So you can put yourself out there and try new things, without worrying about success or failure.
Even though you’re just one of eight billion humans, what you create is still important. Why? Your work reflects your deepest self. Put your heart into it, and it gains value that criticism or obscurity can’t take away.
So post that essay! Take that class! Write that book!
When things get scary or embarrassing, imagine your self-esteem growing, and your ego shrinking.
It’s not easy at first. But it got me through a whole Zumba class.
Imagine what it can do for you.
Principle 2: It’s Not About You, It’s About Your Readers
Do you write for yourself, or for other people?
Write what you think will please everyone, and you’ll get crickets. Write something weird and personal to please no one but yourself, and people will respond. We’re drawn to passion, originality, and a complete lack of self-consciousness.
We don’t connect with what’s safe. We connect with what’s true.
True is hard to find.
Yes, you’re competing for attention with a formidable lineup of content. But if you’re writing authentically, the people who resonate with your work will find it.
The most frustrating part of being a writer is that you often don't get to know what happens next.
Sure, you have numbers: impressions, subscriptions, books sold. Numbers don’t tell you what you’re dying to know. Readers have to make an effort to share how your work affected them, and most won’t reach out to you.
But that doesn’t mean they weren’t affected.
You might have comforted them during a crisis.
You might have shaped their worldview.
You might have inspired them to take action.
You might have sparked their creativity.
You might have changed their life.
As you gain a larger audience, you’ll start hearing these stories. They’re humbling, and often very sad. (I’ll never forget the reader who told me about getting evicted, and reading my work in the moving truck.) You start to realize what an honor it is to touch a stranger’s heart or spark a fire in their mind.
Writing isn’t just about satisfying your own emotional needs anymore: it’s about meeting your readers’ needs for something true. Something they can only get from you.
Sharing honest, well-crafted and meaningful writing is how you shower love on a world that desperately needs it.
Principle 3: The Path Is The Goal
What do you dream of when you dream of the top?
Launch day.
Top spot on the bestseller list.
The gold medal.
Tangible proofs of success like these win respect — and rewards. All the better if you make it look easy. They’ll call you a genius, a superstar, a natural.
But the work that it takes to get there bores them.
Rules and discipline are only sexy if you’re into dark romance. Everyone else calls it “the grind.” No one cares until you have something to show.
According to the 48 Laws of Power, you can impress others by hiding how hard you work, and creating the illusion that your success comes from flashes of inspiration, inborn talent and a few caffeine-fueled all-nighters. (Law 30)
If you actually believe this, you’re sunk before you start.
The inspiration and motivation you’re waiting for may never appear.
You’ll be devastated if you produce anything less than a masterpiece.
Criticism or setbacks will feel like existential threats.
Let go of the idea that you can control the outcome.
Focus on working regularly and creating habits to support yourself, not on the finished product and the rewards you hope will come with it. Your readers might not care about your process, but that’s what produces the work they love.
Designate regular time for writing — and protect this time.
Create a pre-writing ritual, such as lighting a candle and reading positive comments about your work.
Find a way to make your progress visible, such as adding tokens to a glass for each essay you post.
Reward yourself for smaller milestones, such as finishing your first draft.
Practice becoming aware of when you lose your focus, and redirecting your attention to your work.
Make your process robust and rewarding, and you’ll find so much satisfaction every day that success will be a bonus. And each little step will add up to something bigger than you could have imagined when you first started.
Principle 4: When It Comes To Success, Audacity Beats Talent
For many writers, the dream path to publishing looks like that of Susanna Clarke, the author of Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell.
Her husband fell for her after reading one of her stories.
His friend Neil Gaiman loved it too, and sent it on to one of his friends — an editor at Tor.
A prominent agent only needed to read three chapters of Clarke’s work in progress before agreeing to represent her. Before it was even finished, he sold it for an advance of £300,000.1
Stories like these make us feel like the most promising writers will inevitably be discovered. But when writers with this belief face indifference and rejection, they lose faith in themselves.
What reclusive, sensitive, talented writers need most is audacity.
According to The Artist’s Way, talented but timid people are more likely to give up on their dreams. It’s the audacious ones that keep going.
But what if audacity is one of those words that makes you twitchy, like ‘marketing’ and ‘platform’? What if you’re not even sure you have any?
Even the meekest writer has some audacity. Believing your words are worth polishing and sharing is inherently audacious.
Connect with your audacious side:
Is there an author or writer you resent? Maybe they’re a sellout, or a hack, or their work is trash. Maybe they’re just audacious — and subconsciously, you envy their lack of restrictions. Ask, “Why do I resent ______?” Write a response. Then ask another “Why?” question. Repeat until you know something new about yourself.
Who’s the most audacious character or public figure you’d be willing to take advice from? Imagine a dialogue between the two of you, starting with the question, “If you were me, what are ten things you’d do to become a successful writer?” Write both sides yourself. ChatGPT can’t access your intuition.
What might have blocked your audacity? According to The Artist’s Way, it’s “pinched out by critical abuse or malnourished through neglect.” Do you remember a time when you were audacious? What stopped you?
You’ve already got talent. Now give yourself permission to show it off.
Principle 5: Action Creates Motivation
Imagine you’re in charge of educating the future emperor.
Would you teach him that virtue stems from holding the right spirit in your heart? Or from acting in the correct manner at all times?
Elizabeth Gray Vining, who tutored Crown Prince Akihito after WWII, wrote in her memoir Windows for the Crown Prince that she believed that a person’s attitude governed their actions. All the Japanese people she talked to believed the opposite: when one focused on acting correctly, the proper attitude would naturally follow.
Many writers are on Vining’s side of this culture clash. They don’t write unless they feel motivated.
It’s as if motivation is a sign of the Muses’ favor. If you dare to work without it, writing will be excruciating and the results uninspired.
But life goes on while you wait for divine inspiration.
With so much to handle every day, the motivation to work on creative projects can go dormant. Then, when you have a little free time, the Muses don’t show up on demand. You sit alone, staring at a half-finished project that demands energy and focus, but won’t pay off until much later — if ever.
You’re not feeling it. At all. Just thinking about starting makes your body feel heavy.
What do you do?
The secret is that motivation is an emotion. You don't need to feel it to work.
Influencing emotions is what writers do best. And just as you can create fear, relief and curiosity in your readers, you can create motivation in yourself.
All you have to do is start.
Remind yourself of the reason you write, and of how good it’ll feel to take even the smallest step towards your dream. What’s your usual goal for each session? Change it for the day: make it ‘writing one terrible sentence’ or ‘staring blankly at the screen for five minutes.’
I’ve had days where success was ‘opening the file.’
You might sit down with zero energy. But starting the work produces the energy you need. The more you do, the more you'll want to do.
This isn’t easy. Your brain will convince you that even opening the file is absolutely impossible.
But make your goal achievable, then prove to yourself you can meet it. The more you do this, the more you’ll realize that you don’t have to rely on a fleeting, unreliable feeling to do what’s important to you.
Principle 6: Make As Many Pots As You Can
One semester, a pottery teacher conducted an experiment.
The task for half the class: make the perfect pot. For the other half: make as many pots as possible.
The best pots, and the most improvement, came from the second group. It was barely even a contest.
Two kinds of people already knew this story: neurotic creatives on Tumblr and devotees of Atomic Habits and LinkedIn.
How many of them gave up perfectionism?
In Feeling Good, perfectionism is described as a gorgeous, enticing door that leads to everything you want, while averageness is a drab little door you’re too good to open.
But the doors lie. There’s nothing behind the perfectionist door but a brick wall. And the average door leads to a magic garden.
A land where projects get finished and shared with the world.
Many people have already found this garden. You probably think their work sucks and you don’t want to be classed with them. So you keep looking for something different behind the perfectionist door.
Is it so wrong to try to create a masterpiece?
We all dream of making something immortal. But time obscures the ugly pots made by the writers you admire.
Take P. G. Wodehouse, best known for creating Jeeves and Wooster. If you read his lesser-known works, you’ll find a lot of pots that look slapdash in comparison.
He reworked jokes, trying to squeeze out even more humor. (Look for the one about the vegetarian finding a caterpillar in his salad.)
He tried his hand at evoking different tones. (“The Coming of Bill” is a serious work — and one seriously ugly pot.)
He wrote two stories using the same characters in the same situation. (In one, the protagonist pretends to be a jewelry thief. In the other, it’s not a ploy.)
Perfectionism isn’t a virtue. It’s a trap for talented people.
It literally warps the way you see your own work. No matter what you do, it will never feel good enough. But remember two things:
You can pour lots more time into it, and still not like it any better. Thanks, law of diminishing returns.
If you’re really as good as you think you are, then your 60% is most people’s 90%.
The more pieces of writing you finish, and the more feedback you get, the faster you grow.
Principle 7: When You Act, The Universe Backs You Up
I wrote my way to the love of my life.
In high school, I put up a website with my Final Fantasy fanart and fanfics. A few weeks later, he emailed me about it.
He’s still got my original art in his office, and he reads my writing before anyone else.
This was before Google and social media. I have no idea how he found me.
Things like this happen all the time.
Story: Substance, Structure, Style, and the Principles of Screenwriting compares two kinds of plots:
Archplots: Events follow a logical order of cause and effect, and build up to a greater meaning only clear in hindsight.
Antiplots: Events are random and meaningless, reflecting the absurdity and cosmic insignificance of life.
Star Wars and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy are both about intergalactic travels, but their underlying perspective couldn’t be more different.
Most of us see our lives as archplots.
Perhaps because it’s disquieting to see life as cosmically insignificant and fundamentally random.
But it’s also because improbable, meaningful things that seem to transcend coincidence happen all the time. It’s so common we have several names for it.
Fate.
Luck.
Serendipity.
Manifestation.
The Universe.
The hand of God.
I don’t believe in the supernatural. But I do believe in what I’ve experienced.
The key is taking action.
Sure, someone might parachute into your life, Manic Pixie Dream Girl style. But most likely, you'll have to do your part.
Focus on what lights you up and makes the hours fly by.
Pick a goal, and take concrete action towards making it real.
Listen to your intuition, and act without fear.
You can’t control what happens next. But it’ll likely be better than you think.
Principle 8: Anxiety Is A Metal Detector
Maybe you noticed that I haven’t told you what I actually write.
I stopped after high school. I started again when I was at my most depressed.
I’ve learned more from it than anything else I’ve ever done. (Short of having kids.)
My husband jokes that I’ve got enough devoted fans to “take over an average sized post office.”
But I’ve never made money from it. I don’t want to.
I’m a fanfic author.
Fandom to mainstream writing is a common career path these days. Still, I’m anxious to admit this under my real name.
But that anxiety is why I’m sharing the truth.
What advice have you heard about anxiety? Probably stuff like:
Conquer your fear! Kill your feelings and power on through!
Anxiety is a relic of our hunter-gatherer past. Today, it just holds you back.
Breathe deeply. Imagine your thoughts are little leaves floating away from you.
We get the message: Anxiety is a problem. Anxiety is a block. Anxiety is something you fight.
But it’s something else, too — especially for creative people. According to The War of Art, the more anxiety your work triggers, the more it needs to be done.
For writers, anxiety is a metal detector. It means you’re on to something real.
It’s human to write what we think others will approve of, shy away from what’s most meaningful or embarrassing to us, and avoid shocking our mothers.
That’s why there’s so many words out there, and so few of them seem worth reading.
What stories feel like secrets you have to bury? What subjects scare you and fill you with shame? What subjects mean so much to you that your words feel inadequate to the task of sharing them?
Congratulations, you’ve just figured out what your readers want most. Not because they love to point and laugh at weirdos like you — but because they feel like weirdos too.
Accepting yourself, and sharing your true self with others, helps people realize that they aren’t as unusual or terrible as they think they are. And what matters deeply to you matters just as deeply to someone else out there.
Ready to write something worth reading? Then get out that metal detector.
Once again, here are my eight principles:
Self-esteem like a mountain. Ego like a grain of sand.
It’s not about you, it’s about your readers.
The path is the goal.
When it comes to success, audacity beats talent.
Action creates motivation.
Make as many pots as you can.
When you act, the Universe backs you up.
Anxiety is a metal detector.
There you have it: eight principles to help writers get over the fear of success, put themselves out there, be vulnerable, and overcome perfectionism.
It sounds like I’ve got it all figured it out, doesn’t it?
Hardly. I’m a screwup.
I don’t have to write down, “Gas up the car before it runs out” or “Put on my glasses every morning.” But I do have to write down, “Write every day” and “Share what I write with people.”
If all this came naturally to me, I’d have never have written those principles. I wouldn’t review them every morning. I wouldn’t need to work so hard to follow my own advice.
Don’t think of this as me smugly handing down wisdom to you.
I just want to help you avoid my mistakes, waste less time than I did, and go further than I have.
I’ll struggle with all of these principles until I die. True, over time they get a little easier to handle. But that doesn’t mean I’ve mastered anything. It just means it’s time to move on to the next challenge.
If it ever gets easy, that means I’ve settled for less than I can do.
But that’s what makes writing great. Every day, I get to decide who I want to be, what I want to make, and how I want to serve the world. Then I get to create something meaningful.
I know I can write, when I let go of my ego and worries.
So can you.
It’s time to create without fear.
This essay started as a series of 250-word essays on Typeshare. I’m challenging myself to post one every day for 30 days. Pop on over and you get a preview of what I’m writing about next: how writers can create and intensify chills in their work. It’s something I’ve been studying for five years. Or you can subscribe now to get the polished essays!
Miller, Laura. (2020, September 14). Susanna Clarke’s Fantasy World of Interiors. The New Yorker. https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2020/09/14/susanna-clarkes-fantasy-world-of-interiors