The Lies We Tell Ourselves as Writers

Erica here: It is my great pleasure to have my friend Gabrielle Meyer on the blog today. 

I recently saw a video that brought tears to my eyes, because I could relate. A woman invited several friends to her house, one by one, and asked them what sort of things they say to themselves. One lady said she calls herself lazy, another said she calls herself fat, a third said she tells herself she’s a selfish friend, and a fourth said she tells herself she’s not good enough. Then, one by one, the woman showed her friends pictures of themselves as little girls and said: “Can you tell this little girl those things?” All of them started to cry and said, no, they could not. One even said: “I don’t want to crush her spirit.”

This made me think about the writing life and the way we so often talk to ourselves: “No one cares what I have to say.” “I don’t write as well as my friends.” “My hard work will never pay off.” “I’ll never be heard or discovered among the crowd.” “My writing isn’t as deep and meaningful as someone else’s.”

“I’ll never be good enough.”

Could you image telling a child those things? “No one cares what you have to say…you’re not good enough.”

So then, why do we talk to ourselves that way?

If I interviewed each of my writing friends, I know they would have more lies to add to this list, because we all have different life experience. From the time we’re little, we start to believe the things people say about us. But the trouble is, as children, we don’t have the ability to distinguish lies from truth. We accept what people say, we absorb it into our identity, and then by the time we’re adults, even if it isn’t logical, it’s so much a part of who we are, we go on believing it.

I was raised in a small town in the middle of Minnesota. Often, I heard people in the community say negative, derogatory things about small-town life. At a baseball game one time, I heard a parent say to his child: “Why bother practicing? You’re from Little Falls—you have no chance at becoming a Major League star.” This statement, along with others, led me to believe that no one from my small town could reach for their dreams or accomplish something big, and that it would be a waste of time to pursue writing. Each time I receive a rejection, a negative review, or a disappointing outcome, those lies circle around in my head.

But lies aren’t limited to our childhood. As adults, we still take to heart what people say about us. Maybe a critique partner tore your first manuscript to shreds. Maybe an agent sent you a rejection letter and said your writing wasn’t ready. Maybe an editor at a pitch appointment said your ideas weren’t marketable. Maybe a reader wrote a review and said your book was a waste of time and money.

If we hear it often enough, and dwell on it long enough, we might start to believe it’s true.

Or maybe you’ve never let anyone even read your writing, because you’re your own worst critic. You’ve believed the lies long enough, and even though you want to be a writer, you struggle to believe you can achieve your dreams.

So how do we stop this cycle? How do we overcome the lies and start to believe the truth?

First, we need to identify the lies, ask ourselves where they came from, and then speak the truth over those lies. The Bible says we have an enemy of our souls and Hh is the father of all lies. If he can keep us captive to those lies, then the truth-giving, life-giving words we have to offer this hungry world will go unspoken.

What if we rejected the lies and wrote with abandon? What if we turned off the negative criticism and replaced it with a heart of confidence? What if we looked at rejection as a way to grow, instead of shrink? How different would your writing life look if you simply reveled in the joy of writing and didn’t worry about the outcome? Instead of being afraid you’re not good enough, or that you don’t write like someone else, why not marvel in who God created you to be?

After eleven published books, I went through eighteen months without a contract. In that time, I submitted fourteen book proposals—many of which were rejected. I had ample opportunity to wallow in the belief that a small town girl can never accomplish her dreams. I could have given up. Instead, I looked at that little girl I once was and told her the truth: God has a purpose for my life, no matter where I grew up. Laura Ingalls Wilder and Maud Hart Lovelace, two of my all-time favorite authors, grew up in small Minnesota towns. Even if I never received another contract, my writing is a gift that God can use however He chooses. Even if no one ever reads my writing, it still blesses me.

As I waited, I continued to believe the best, I continued to submit proposals, and I wrote another book, even though it wasn’t contracted. I found immense freedom and joy in my writing again. I was being who I was meant to be, and I wouldn’t let the lies tell me differently. I encourage you to do the same.

It’s your turn: what are some of the lies you believe that keep you from writing with abandon? If you’ve overcome the lies, what truths did you tell yourself? How could you encourage other writers to grow in confidence today?

Gabrielle Meyer lives in central Minnesota on the banks of the Mississippi River with her husband and four children. As an employee of the Minnesota Historical Society, she fell in love with the rich history of her state and enjoys writing historical and contemporary fiction inspired by real people, places, and events. 

Find Gabrielle on Facebook at www.Facebook.com/AuthorGabrielleMeyer, Twitter atwww.twitter.com/MeyerGabrielle, Goodreads, Bookbub, and her website at www.gabriellemeyer.com.