Writing through the fear

When you find yourself trapped in endless editing, maybe it’s time to let go

A couple of weeks ago, I found myself stuck. I was sitting in front of my manuscript again, going over the same chapter for what felt like the hundredth time that week.

Every sentence felt wrong. Every word seemed like a shallow and amateur attempt awfully betraying the story I was trying to tell. I told myself I just needed to polish a little more, but I knew the truth.

I was afraid.

Afraid of not being good enough. Afraid of putting my heart into something and watching it fall flat. So I kept editing. And editing. And editing. I revised that manuscript so many times I lost count.

If I kept on working on the text I’d never have do face to brutal truth and my biggest fear: What if this book was a failure? What if I wasn’t author material after all?

I decided to gain back control and hired an editor, someone professional who could tell me whether this was a waste of my time or lead to anything decent. I thought she would help me see clearly. I hoped she would guide me through the fog.

Instead, she tricked me. (More about that in another post.)

What hurt more than the money or the confusion was how easily I gave up my own voice. Her opinion suddenly mattered more than my instincts. I stopped trusting myself. I started believing I was not a real writer.

Anxiety took over my creative process. I couldn’t hear my thoughts anymore. I felt disconnected from the story I had once loved so much.

That was the moment I came across a quote that stayed with me ever since:

“All anxiety is separation anxiety.” – Dr. Russell Kennedy

Something in me softened.

I finally understood what was happening. I wasn’t just scared of getting things wrong. I was scared of being rejected. Of putting myself out there and be torn apart.

So I did what I had not done in a long time. I stopped. I took a deep breath. I placed one hand on my heart and the other on my belly. I sat quietly, feeling my body.

I finally unplugged from the “always on”-mode I found myself in, yet again. I connected to my heartbeat. My body. My breathe.

I allowed myself to come back to me.

Anxiety tells us we are not safe. It tells us we must try harder, do more, hustle for our worth. But the truth is, we don’t need to chase anything. We only need to reconnect.

When I calmed my nervous system, my thoughts slowed down. My vagus nerve relaxed. My creativity began to stir again, gently and quietly, like a friend who had been waiting patiently for me to call in.

“Fear shuts down the creative brain.”, says Dr. Martha Beck.

And I find that to be so true. Creativity needs safety. It needs presence. It needs us to trust that we are already enough.

That day, I realized something important. I do not write because I am awesome at it. I write because I am learning. I write because putting things into words is how I come home to myself.

This book may not be perfect. But it holds my heart and soul.

And that is enough.

For now.

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