The art of not writing

Every now and then I produce something that I’m almost proud of. I write well, I edit well and it gets a good reaction from other people yet when the afterglow has diminished I am convinced that I will never write as well again.

I have plenty to say but I can’t commit it to paper (I do my first draft in longhand) because I am convinced it will be inferior to the post I am most proud of at the time.

Friends who are both writers and readers tell me I’m a good and some of them tell me that they identify with my thoughts. I have written for the mainstream media as well as content for two websites. The websites were miles away from each other  in style and content and the articles I wrote were often praised. Yet I still convince myself that I’m never going to write anything excellent again or, come to think of it, anything that’s even vaguely good.

I am not intimating that I have Imposter Syndrome or am self-stigmatising as they are phrases that I feel have been invented to medicalise self-doubt. Self-doubt is natural and it is what drives every person to strive to be better.

The way for me to move forward has to be to write anything and publish those pieces that I lack confidence in. Not every blog post I write can be a jewel to fill my rather bare crown.

My new mantra has to be, “Liza – polish a turd, publish a turd.”

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