In my first post on this topic, I explored the psychological biases that cause you to doubt your skills as a writer. In this post, I explore a few inescapable aspects of the publishing industry that magnify this doubt.
Lack of Clear Standards
Do carpenters constantly worry about the quality of their work? Do lawn care professionals need constant reassurance of their lawnmowing skills? Probably not.
Most things in life have straightforward, objective standards of excellence. It’s not hard to determine if you are a chess connoisseur, a math maestro, or a proficient pianist. But writing and art, more generally, are subjective in nature.
How you define a good writer can radically differ from how I define it. This means there are no clear standards of excellence against which to compare yourself. Sure, there are basic standards of proficiency, like rules of grammar and story structure, but as you progress into the upper bounds, the standards become fuzzier. When you receive feedback on your writing, it is often less about facts and more about individual opinions.
Since there are no clear benchmarks for excellence, writers tend to rely on poor substitutes. They judge their talent by how many stories they get published, by their book sales, by the number of positive reviews on Goodreads, or by whether they earn out their publisher’s advance (a feat that rarely happens).
None of these are an accurate indicator of writing talent and skill. Sure, hitting these marks feels good, and not hitting them feels bad, and that’s OK—you feel your feels. But they are not accurate indicators of the quality of your work and your talent as a writer, so don’t mistakenly treat them as such.
Critique Is Inherent to the Writing Process
Critique and revision are two inescapable aspects of any writing career. So much so that people anecdotally say getting an MFA doesn’t teach them to be good writers; it just teaches them to be harsh critics of others’ work. But you don’t have to earn a degree in English to see this fact in action. Writing groups, online writing forums, editorial feedback, agent pitch sessions, and beta readers—these are all designed to get as many critical eyes on your writing as possible.
Don’t get me wrong, rewrites and critical feedback are necessary if you want to develop into a good writer. But at the same time, as they are improving your skills, they are also making you feel like you are a worse writer. This highlights an ironic pattern for the developing writer: The more your skills improve, the more you doubt those skills.
All this emphasis on critique and endless revisions creates an imbalance where writers focus more on the things not working in their writing and less on the things that are working. But the same is not true of your readers.
Remember that most readers who pick up your work approach it with an eye for entertainment, not critique. They are probably not going to see all the flaws you, your editor, or your beta reader see. You shouldn’t take this as an excuse to be lazy in your writing, but it is important to recognize that your brain is going to highlight flaws in a way that your readers’ brains will not.
So, how do you stay committed to the revision process without falling prey to your doubts? Start by making note of your writing strengths as well as your weaknesses. Maybe you’re great at dialogue but struggle with theme or atmosphere. Or maybe you’re great at characterization and backstory but struggle with pacing and plot. Even the most successful authors aren’t proficient at all aspects of the craft, so why should you hold yourself to such a lofty standard?
And here’s another piece of advice: When providing feedback to fellow writers, always start out by highlighting the things you liked in their work before providing your criticisms. The more you do this for others, the more they will do it for you.
Long Delays Between Production and Publication
The lag time between writing your piece and its actual publication is notoriously long. With traditional publishing, a year or more can pass between when you wrote your work and when it is finally released to the public. This means that by the time your creation steps into the world and receives feedback, you feel quite removed from it.
In many ways, you are no longer the author who produced that work. Your interests have changed, your writing style has changed, and if you are working hard to improve your craft, your actual writing skills have changed. In fact, you may even feel a bit cringy looking back on your old work and seeing all your rookie mistakes and flaws flashing in neon.
As a result of this long delay, the dopamine hit your brain gets from the positive reviews of your publication may feel a bit dimmed. Those compliments aren’t really directed at you, the current writer, but at some past version of yourself. Your talent is always outpacing your positive feedback. This makes it harder to internalize the compliments and incorporate them into your own sense of writing confidence.
Two Caveats
Across two posts, I discussed how psychological biases and industry norms serve to suppress rather than bolster a writer’s confidence. Although the points I’ve made hold true in most circumstances, there are two caveats to keep in mind.
First, although most new authors underestimate their writing abilities, there is a small but notable minority who do the exact opposite. You’ve likely encountered these people—in your writing groups or online forums or perhaps in your own social circles. They think their writing is so brilliant, their ideas so unique, their prose so stunning, and they can’t seem to understand why the rest of the world can’t recognize their immense talent.
Such people are easily spotted by their claim, “I write better than [insert best-selling author name here].” I’ll discuss the cause for this type of writer blindspot in my next post, but rest assured, if you are the type of author who is constantly asking, “Am I a good writer?” chances are you are not in this camp.
Second, the pattern described in this article tends to hold true for novice writers more than seasoned writers. Whereas a novice writer may underestimate (or in some cases overestimate) their writing chops, a seasoned author generally has a more accurate self-view. This is not to say that seasoned writers never struggle with self-doubt. But time, experience, and blunt reality have slowly chiseled away the subjective biases in their self-view, leaving behind a more realistic sense of their writing abilities. But such calibration takes time, and too many burgeoning authors are likely to give up before they reach this stage.
