My Evil, Inner Editor

I am studying The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron as a way to challenge writer's block. One exercise is to draw a picture of what she calls "the inner critic," that self-criticiser that stems from roots of negativity we may have collected and held onto during childhood.

My "monster" is a sharp-chinned woman with a dark unibrow and tiny eyes. She dominates her way into the position of Executive Editor. Daily I have to tell her, "You're fired! Go wax your eyebrow!" because she seems to show up with a leaky red pen whenever I open my notebook.

"In my own case, I have found that my Inner Critic's most scathing comments are often reserved for what will later appear to be my strongest work." (Cameron, 2006, p. 96) Be secure enough to try something new in your writing. Or be secure enough to stick to what you're doing.

References

Cameron, Julia. (2006) Finding water. Penguin Group: USA.

There Is Always a Way

It happened every day. I would sneak my notebook into Starbucks during any moments of free time I had. Armed with a shot of caffeine, I would stare directly at my paper and sink my pen into its flesh. I wanted something to appear in style. I wanted to write a story just as wonderful or perhaps better than my first book. But I remained blocked.

In my high school days I brushed off the idea of free-writing because I wanted to "write something good." This worked for a while: I won an award for "Most Original Short Story" from Write On! Books; gained experience interviewing; wrote and sold a speech for a private event; and found a publisher for Of Cabbages and Kings or The Letters of Abby Prince. Then about a year after I graduated from Mountain View Academy in Seattle, I experienced an intense artist's block and felt extremely depressed.

My journal entries diminished (though I am grateful they survived). I didn't know what to research. Maybe my academics and extracurriculars had been so effective that I felt constantly motivated and my pen stayed fresh and juicy. So I decided to take my frustration out on a counselor I knew. I am glad he listened. Then he had this killer advice that he said may work for me.

"In the old days, teachers rapped on your knuckles with a ruler if you wrote badly."

I laughed. Although I took creative writing and studied The Gregg Reference Manual in high school, I couldn't envision someone actually being punished for temporary failure.

Larry whipped out a pen and started scribbling on some pages I had pulled out. "Is that an I or is that an I?" He said.

"Erm," I got stuck. "Actually, they're both I's. Cursive I's.

Larry shook his head. "Only one is acceptable. See? Some researchers believe that the kinesthetic flow of your hand when you form letters in cursive actually stimulates that creative part of your brain. That may be why old-fashioned schools were so strict on kids for their penmanship."

Wow, this was definitely different.

"Just try it. Like, you can change the thoughts you're thinking just by writing. And cause new ones. That's the theory."

So I did. I wrote a page on why I was writing, and discovered that I could pour out my own words more smoothly in cursive. Was I free to write because I knew no one could read my handwriting? Actually, I think it was a combination of two things: somebody believed my work was worth the effort and that I was literally an artist. I had awakened a raw creative power with the kiss of the pen and paper.

Writing is still a process. Sometimes it is difficult for me. But one promise I made to myself is that my writing will always be original. Even at the risk of writing something lame or unpublished, I will choose my own words consciously but liberally. I can edit and ask for criticism, but I know my story is mine.