writing challenges

I used to think that I not only enjoy writing, but I'm also good at it. I've had to reassess both of those things. Since I was an elementary school kid getting praise for being advanced for my age up to the present, there's been a slow decline in both my enjoyment and confidence in all types of writing -- academic, personal, etc. There are still moments when writing something is fun and makes me feel good about myself -- but it's mostly only after I've received some sort of positive feedback/reinforcement. Otherwise, I tend to be sort of shaky in both my enjoyment and my confidence. I'm not really intrinsically validated when it comes to my writing.

I've sort of put off thinking about this gradual decline into inactivity and mostly written it off, telling myself that writing actually isn't really for me. Sometimes this has felt like the right attitude, like I've finally emancipated myself from this dream that I just couldn't get off the ground. But other times I feel like I'm selling myself short and that I really do have the capacity to share what I'm thinking, and that I might even be good enough at writing to get paid to do it (in some way or another). This tension bothers me because I can't decide whether I can confidently pursue one of the myriad career pathways that depends entirely on writing, or whether I should just give it up and look for something that seems lesser.

However, I've recently been trying to understand why I struggle with writing at times and why I get discouraged easily. I was tipped off to the possibility of me being harder on myself than I deserve after I read about something called cognitive distortion. (I think cognitive distortion is fascinating and I may write a separate post about it sometime soon.) Basically, cognitive distortions are "...thoughts that cause individuals to perceive reality inaccurately" and they "often reinforce negative thoughts or emotions" (thanks Wiki). For example, one such cognitive distortion is called "Disqualifying the positive", or dismissing any possibility that something positive has any relevance to your situation: if someone complimented you, then that means they don't actually know the whole story and probably wouldn't have said something nice if they had all the facts; or when you misattribute something that you did well by saying it was just luck by accident. And there are all sorts of other logical fallacies and thought patterns that fall into the category of cognitive distortions. Once you learn that you might be susceptible to this sort of thing, it's important to take some time to look at the things you tell yourself about yourself. Are you being realistic, or are you just shooting yourself in the foot?

I happen to be particularly susceptible to cognitive distortions. It's something that I'm trying to work on. But trying to bear that in mind, I believe that I've identified several reasons why I've struggled with writing. They might be legitimate. They might not be. They are as follows:

• I don't think I'm creative or original (i.e. my thought is too derivative)
• I don't like taking a polarizing stance on issues -- or even just expressing my opinion
• I tend to be lazy, impatient, and proud

Let's see if I can break these down. And as with any creative non-fiction, I hope that I can (to quote my very intelligent girlfriend) "be my own case study" and provide "introspection for the betterment of others" in addition to working it out for myself.

1. I'm not creative or original.

Let me explain. You know how people talk about how there are producers and consumers of knowledge? You know, in articles like this and this. Producers being people who create and innovate and think up new, interesting ways to look at things, right? They think outside of the box. Consumers are the people who take that knowledge that other people came up with and either try to put it to good use in their lives or simply enjoy the act of consumption itself. They like reading books. They like watching movies. They read the headlines, but don't make them. In Mormon scriptural terms, producers are those who act, and consumers are acted upon. Science will help explain:

You get the picture. Via this.

It's obviously reductive to present people as being entirely one or the other. Producers consume a ton to stay informed and at the top of their game, and consumers definitely find their own creative outlets. But for our purposes, let's assume that people have a tendency to sit more on one end of the produce-consume spectrum than the other. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that producers... um, produce stronger writing than consumers because they're the ones that "make their own food", so to speak (see Figure 1 above). Their writing and ideas come from within. It's not that their writing is wholly original; everybody is influenced by the civilization and society that nurtured them (think of that as the sun giving the plant the energy to photosynthesize). But for the most part their stuff is their own.

Consumers, on the other hand, "get energy from consuming (eating) producers". They derive their ideas and thoughts from others. A bunny rabbit that eats a leaf is capitalizing on the work already done by the plant. So when people who are primarily consumers sit down to write something with new and original content, they end up regurgitating that leaf in one way or another. (Sorry if this metaphor is getting away from me.)

I always find myself struggling to come up with new and original content. Look at how often I write in this web log if you need proof. I know that it's not easy to find something to talk about that nobody's touched before -- almost impossible, even. But producers find ways to creatively talk about an old topic in a new way. I found back in my undergrad degree that this was my problem over and over again. Whenever I was faced with research papers, I agonized over my topics and never seemed to be able to come up with something that surprised and delighted me or my teachers. It all felt somewhat stale and derivative to me. I think I'm a consumer. I love reading books, watching movies, appreciating art, reading the news, finding out new things. But I don't make new things very often.

People who make a living as bloggers, journalists, or academics have to be prolific and come up with new and interesting content on a regular basis. Bloggers have to get posts out regularly or they'll lose readers. Once an academic finishes one research project, she has to move on to another and keep churning out the papers, articles, books, etc. The discouragement I've felt trying to do more producing instead of consuming all the time has kept me from seriously considering these careers and has made it hard for me to feel confident as a writer.

Moving on...

2. I'm afraid of expressing my opinion or asserting a potentially polarizing position. (lots of p's there...)

Really, truly expressing my opinions has always been kind of difficult for me. It stems from an old worry that sticking my neck out is just an invitation for people to swipe at it. As a teenager I was easy to take advantage of because I was kind of a punching bag -- I'd take the hits and try to stay cheerful about it. But I learned eventually to just not engage. It was easier and more peaceful to turtle up. While this tendency has saved me some grief over the years, it's not a particularly helpful trait when it comes to writing. The impulse to turtle up rather than saying something and expressing an opinion means that I have left a lot of my thoughts unsaid, and a lot of potential untapped, I guess.

My favorite result from my "anxious turtle" Google image search. (via this)

It boils down to this: I believe that if I'm vocal and open about my opinion, it's more likely to cause confrontation,  strife, and personal stress, rather than contribute positively to public discourse. I'm afraid that my arguments are flawed more often than not, and that people will look for holes in my arguments rather than listen to what I have to say. I also worry about being the recipient of ad hominem attacks or my argument being discredited based not on its content but on my identity -- a white, American, middle-class, Mormon male.

Those might be understandable fears for someone who just wants people to be polite, decent, and kind to them, but they aren't valid reasons not to write. And when I give into them, they paralyze me. I second-guess what I'm about to write until I just don't write anything at all. I feel like it's safer that way. And it is safer for me, but I also don't grow or learn at all. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. But I guess I fear the possibility of rejection and failure more than I look forward to the possible contribution I could make to the discourse.

I want to tweet about how people these days are too easily offended by stuff but I'm afraid I'll offend people.

— John Francis Daley (@JohnFDaley) September 15, 2015

Like the above tweet, I might feel like I have something to say that might make a difference -- but ironically I'm afraid of the actual boat-rocking that making such a statement entails. I tend to indulge in the cognitive distortion known as "catastrophizing", or jumping to the conclusion that the worst possible outcome is the only possible outcome. Would this problem be solved if I just had some thicker skin? Maybe.

Thick skin might help me with the initial anxiety about being attacked for my writing, but it still doesn't get at a deeper problem: my unwillingness to really draw some lines in the sand and take a stand on a lot of issues. The hard part, of course, is learning enough and being educated enough to take the most intelligent and reasonable stand on any given issue. Being able to take criticism is one thing; eliminating or mitigating the cause of it is another completely. In short, I worry about writing something that won't be able to stand up to scrutiny. This is why I tend to sit on the fence and hope for the day when it all makes sense and I can enter the fray with moral and rational conviction. I know that this will never happen without a lot of hard work, though.

Which leads to my final point...

3. I tend to be lazy, impatient, and proud.

Good writing takes a lot of work. Even the best writers don't just sit down and easily transport their brilliant thoughts eloquently onto the page. Writing is a multi-step process that is best when collaborative. I often wish I could skip all the difficult parts of writing. And when I'm not feeling particularly inspired or it's not coming easily, I tell myself things like "If it's this difficult for me, then maybe I shouldn't be doing it."

The truth is that good writing takes hard work and tenacity. Take this blog post, for example. I started it a couple weeks ago and got stuck at this third portion. The fact that I didn't make it through the whole post the night that I started it was the first indication that it might never get off the ground. Why? Because I got impatient with how long it was taking. I kept fleshing out the first two sections and looking around for pictures to add, and it dragged on and on. When I finally went to bed, I was frustrated that I hadn't been able to click publish and be done with it. And when I woke up the next day, I'd lost my momentum and drive. The task suddenly seemed much more difficult than it had been the night before, and some innate laziness kicked in and my procrastination began. I was too impatient to stick it out. But here I am again, grinding out this blog post. I'll finish it tonight not because of that initial spark of inspiration I had to write it, but because I fought past the tendency towards laziness and impatience.

How does pride fit in? As I said earlier, I think writing is best when collaborative. But for me to accept contributions from outside readers, I have to lower the guard that I put up about my writing. I hate to admit it, but I can be awfully protective of my writing and really stubborn about how I choose to phrase my thoughts -- and I don't like taking criticism. When people come in with a red pencil and mark up the whole document, I start to feel like if I made all the changes people suggest, I wouldn't actually get to claim ownership of the writing anymore. And so sometimes I obstinately cling to my sub-par writing just because I know that it's mine, and that any merit it contains can be unequivocally attributed to me.

To be honest, I think this stems from a lack of confidence -- most pride issues have their roots in insecurity. If I were really confident about the caliber of my writing, then I probably wouldn't worry as much about taking criticism and my authorship being diluted. I'm not saying that writers should take criticism unconditionally and always do everything their readers/editors tell them. I'm saying that good writers should seek out constructive criticism and not be afraid to hear someone tell them their writing needs improvement. Because I, for one, can be remarkably blind to how bad some of my writing can be simply because I'm too proud to let go of my attachment to it. Accepting criticism of my writing can be hard, because writing feels like an extension of myself -- it feels like not only my writing is being criticized, but I'm personally being criticized. But internalizing that criticism is just another instance of cognitive distortion. Somehow, to be a better writer, I need to try to be more humble and change the way I think. Wish me luck!

Now watch me disregard a big chunk of that advice to myself and post this without reading through the whole thing, revising, or getting anyone else to read it through.