So, why did I whine about my low self-esteem on a writing blog? Because of this:
Low self-esteem destroys stories.
Say you have an idea – a brilliant, simple idea. (It could also be a piece of crap, but for this exercise it is brilliant and simple.) I’m going to write a story about how trees make me feel!
Then you scale it down – because come on, you can’t achieve all that! You aren’t that good. So… it’ll be about a little tree, and how they make someone who isn’t quite me feel in a small way like I feel.
Someone says you can’t write about oaks, or you can’t write about forests you haven’t been to. Or… faster than light travel. Whatever. YOU CAN’T X. So you cut those parts. Whoever that person is, they MUST know better than you. (So okay it’s a willow now, and it’s in rural Ohio and… )
Heck, sometimes the critique doesn’t make you cut anything, but it’s clear the reader wants something different than what your initial idea was, so you try to twist the idea into that. You SHOULD write X. You OUGHT to write Y. Why didn’t you concentrate on Z? (This should really be an action-adventure tree.)
Repeat.
And repeat.
Until…
All that is left of the initial idea is a shriveled, stunted thing.
“Clearly, that initial idea sucked! I should never write about trees!”
Yeah. The heck, me? It gets so I can’t write at all because of the crippling self-loathing. I end up spending the night drawing a monster, instead.
This isn’t crippling self-loathing. It’s Monster Bob. He’s an Amway salesman. Like me, he isn’t very good at his job. I love Monster Bob.
What would you write if you had the courage to displease people?
