Self-doubt is one of the biggest obstacles a writer will ever face. It creeps in at the worst moments—undermining confidence, stalling progress, and making you question whether your stories are even worth telling. Conquering self-doubt in writing isn’t about eliminating it altogether; it’s about learning to work with it. The key is recognizing self-doubt for what it really is: not a stop sign, but a challenge to grow.
Not long ago, Louis Scenti wrote in about a personal challenge many writers face:
Perhaps this is a condition that many people struggle with but I feel quite alone. I can’t seem to shut off the critical voice, the saboteur, if you will, that says things like “why bother, nobody id interested in what you write,” or “you’re old and coming back to writing in your sixties—well, you just don’t have time to improve, it’s too late.”
In other words, I cannot seem to shut off my rational/critical brain and fully access the child-like part of me that finds writing pure fun; pure flow. Sometimes I can’t even sit down in my chair and face the keyboard. Any thoughts or ideas?
If you’ve ever found yourself battling a relentless inner critic—the voice telling you your writing is worthless, you’re too late, or you don’t have what it takes—you’re not alone. In fact, I’d argue all writers face this at some point (usually at multiple points) in their careers.
The inner critic often masquerades as a rational voice. It tells us that it’s just looking out for us, that it’s saving us from embarrassment, failure, or wasted effort. To a point, this is true, since the inner critic is often a highly sophisticated (and in some ways autonomous) manifestation of our inner protector—a voice we developed early in life to guide us to the safest choices. As a very young child, safety was paramount. But often this limiting protector/inner guide/critic doesn’t evolve apace with our maturing capabilities. Uncalibrated, it can remain with us our entire lives, even as its advice grows progressively less helpful and increasingly self-destructive. We could argue that the out-of-control inner critic is on a mission to destroy what it sees as our greatest enemy: ourselves.
Therefore, this voice is usually rooted in fear—of not being good enough, of being judged, or of spending time on something that may not lead to immediate validation. One of the most important things to understand about this voice is that it’s not an objective judge of your abilities. Instead, it’s a deeply ingrained response to past experiences, external pressures, and personal insecurities. The more power you give it, the louder it becomes. Alternatively, the more you recognize it for what it is, the more likely you can transform it back into a force that can legitimately guide, protect, and enhance positive growth.
In This Article:
- Proven Ways to Conquer Self-Doubt in Writing Your Fiction
- Embrace Your Inner Critic as a Necessary Archetype for Conquering Self-Doubt in Writing
- Face Your Fears to Overcome Self-Doubt and Unlock Your Creative Potential
- Recognize Ebb Periods in Your Writing Flow
- Expand the Child Archetype with Creative Freedom
- Why It’s Never Too Late to Be Creative
Proven Ways to Conquer Self-Doubt in Writing Your Fiction
Because self-doubt in writing (as in life) is all but ubiquitous, advice is everywhere. Most focuses on practical steps for either muscling past the self-doubt or building better habits to contain or redirect it. Most of this advice is good:
1. Give your inner critic a name (such as my favorite “Judgy McJudgerson”).
2. Set a timer and write anyway.
3. Open a dialogue with your inner critic by writing it a letter.
4. Change up your writing environment.
5. Find a creative ritual that supports you.
6. Remind yourself why you write.
I’ve written much in the past about dealing with the challenge of the inner critic. You can find some of those posts linked below. Today, I want to examine five ways to conquer self-doubt in writing that go deeper than just practical tips, so you can learn to address the underlying factors and motivations that keep the inner critic coming back time after time. Particularly, I want to examine each of the different “flavors” of self-doubt that Louis articulated in his query.
>>Click here to read Imposter Syndrome for Writers Is a Real Thing (+ the Key to Slaying It)
>>Click here to read Judge Yourself Less, Trust Yourself More, and Write Better Stories
>>Click here to read Afraid to Let Anyone Read Your Writing? 5 Steps to Move Past Fears
1. Embrace Your Inner Critic as a Necessary Archetype for Conquering Self-Doubt in Writing
You can’t destroy the inner critic. You can’t cut it off. You can’t stuff it inside some mental compartment and forget about it. It will always come back.
Why? Because it’s you.
Even though the toxic inner critic generally speaks in the voice of someone outside of ourselves (often an authoritarian voice, whether specific or generic), it arises from within. The only way to “get rid of it” is to integrate it—to make peace with its purpose for existence, recalibrate it into better functionality, and absorb it into our higher consciousness where we can exercise control over it.
In describing his inner critic, Louis used a key word. He wrote:
I can’t seem to shut off the critical voice, the saboteur, if you will….
Sacred Contracts by Caroline Myss (affiliate link)
In her book Sacred Contracts, archetype maestra Carolyn Myss posits four “archetypes of survival” inherent to every personality. One of these archetypes is the Saboteur. She writes:
The Saboteur archetype is made up of the fears and issues related to low self-esteem that cause you to make choices in life that block your own empowerment and success. [Y]ou need to face this powerful archetype that we all possess and make it an ally.
Rescued from the shadow, the Saboteur/Inner Critic can once again become the Protector it was intended to be. Instead of acting as a negative voice of self-sabotage or -destruction, it becomes a neutral ally highlighting pitfalls and recommending actionable choices.
>>Click here to read The Writer’s Inner Critic: 11 Ways to Tell if Yours Is Healthy
2. Face Your Fears to Overcome Self-Doubt and Unlock Your Creative Potential
FDR’s quote has become a cliche, but it’s truer than truth:
We have nothing to fear but fear itself.
In my own adventures, as I have circled the things I want and the fear that stands in my way, I have realized that is rarely the thing itself that frightens me—it is dread of my own fear response that holds me back. I recently shared a quote I have found profound in my own creative (aka, life) journey:
Everything you want is on the other side of fear.
Here’s another one I ran onto recently, from Mary Kate Teske, which is even truer:
No one ever tells you that bravery feels like fear.
The next time you sit at the page (or feel dread at the thought of doing so), take a moment to lean into what you’re feeling in your body. Instead of naming it fear and trying to move away from it, recognize it as your instinct toward bravery. This is your creative self in its very essence—desiring growth, transformation, experience. The very fact you are experiencing this deep inner tension and discomfort signals you are unwilling to settle for the status quo. Your inner self wants more—knows you need more. Via the very discomfort that may make you feel you are not big enough or good enough to continue, you are already proving your own profound courage.
Frankly, writing is scary. I’d even go so far as to say it should be scary. At the very least, congratulate yourself for pushing your own edges.
>>Click here to read How to Overcome Fear as a Writer and Embrace Your Profound Courage
3. Recognize Ebb Periods: How to Conquer Self-Doubt in Writing
In general, writers tend to put far too much pressure on the act of writing. Yes, that part’s important (obviously), but there are many other aspects of the creative process that are equally valid and, in many instances, impossible to do without.
Some days are typing days, and some are thinking days, but both are writing days.
When we’re not actively writing every day (or sometimes even after missing just one day), our toxic inner critic’s algorithm tends to lean heavily on themes of productivity equaling worth. But just as we gain more by fully welcoming and integrating the inner critic back into a healthy role, we also achieve our best creative states when we are able to welcome and use both sides of our brain. Some people tend to emphasize intuition and emotion to the point nothing ever gets written, structured, or edited. However, many people who struggle with the toxic inner critic tend to overemphasize logic and willpower to the point they need to be reminded that sometimes not writing is actually the most creative thing you can do.
Louis wrote:
Sometimes I can’t even sit down in my chair and face the keyboard.
Each author must look within to determine whether such a circumstance is the result of running away from fear instead of moving bravely into it—or whether, in some instances, a deeper and wiser voice is offering what turns out to be a good point. Very often, the resistance to sitting down to write at least partially results from the writer’s unreadiness. Sometimes that unreadiness is best dealt with by simply diving in and creating your way out of it. Other times, inner wisdom dictates something is missing:
- Perhaps a bit more time daydreaming is necessary to fully flesh out the characters.
- Perhaps a bit more research is required to understand how to execute the scene.
- Perhaps a bit more study into the mechanics of storytelling and writing would smooth the process.
Rarely is it productive to shame ourselves for legitimate feelings of not wanting to “sit down and face the keyboard.” Rather, allow what is to be. Take a moment to sit with it; listen to it. There is a message of truth there if only we can learn to recognize it. Once recognized, it often transforms from an obstacle to an ally.
But how do you know if you should be listening to your resistance to sitting at the keyboard—or resisting the resistance and moving forward anyway?
The answer is probably: whichever requires more courage.
Sometimes not writing can feel like the scarier option. If so, take a look at that. But if not writing feels like an escape, then turn around and sit at the keyboard once again. Wherever you are facing your fears—wherever you are feeling your own bravery—that is where the most answers will be found.
>>Click here to read Do You Have to Write Every Day? 10 Pros and Cons
4. Expand the Child Archetype: Conquering Self-Doubt with Creative Freedom
Writing Archetypal Character Arcs (affiliate link)
At the heart of the struggle against self-doubt is the desire to reconnect with the joy of writing and the childlike sense of play that allows creativity to flow freely. The Child is another innate archetype, one intimately associated with creativity (I’ve written about in-depth about the Child here and in my book Writing Archetypal Character Arcs). One of the main quests of my own life has been the desire to understand why accessing my childhood experience of creativity became so much more difficult in adulthood and, most importantly, how do I get it back?
That saga is ongoing for me (although I made an interesting breakthrough the other day, which, if it pans out, I will share in the future). One of the keys, however, is simply remembering tenets of childhood creativity and rewiring our well-meaning adult habits to return to them.
For example:
- The Child creates for the fun of it. No deadlines. No focus on productivity.
- If the Child doesn’t feel like creating, it doesn’t. If it feels like napping or eating or crying or laughing instead of playing, that’s what it does.
- The Child does not (naturally) feel guilty for not creating or for creating “badly.”
- The Child follows its joy (the disconnect most adults experience from embodied joy is one of our greatest creative blocks).
- The Child has no (or little) ego and approaches the world with the simultaneous humility and hubris of ignorance.
- The Child is a wide-open canvas of possibility and curiosity: it sees everything as new and potentially interesting.
Awakening the Heroes Within by Carol S. Pearson (affiliate link)
The list goes on. Returning to childhood is no small feat. Indeed, in Carol S. Pearson’s cycle of archetypes, she begins with the childlike Innocent and ends with the Holy Fool—the culmination of that lifelong quest to return to untamed wonder.
If that culmination feels a bit out of reach as yet and if your writing feels heavy, you can try the following practical approaches:
- Write badly on purpose. Give yourself permission to write nonsense, knowing you can always revise later.
- Separate creation from evaluation. Draft first, critique later. Mixing the two is like trying to drive with one foot on the gas and the other on the brake.
- Reframe writing as exploration. Instead of thinking, “I have to write something good,” try “I wonder where this sentence will take me?”
>>Click here to read Not Feeling Creative? 4 Ways to Reignite the “Wonder” in Your Writing
5. It’s Never Too Late to Be Creative
Louis brings up one more important aspect of the inner critic—its ability to weaponize time against us. Writers returning to their craft after years (or decades) away, or those first picking up the pen after a lifetime of other pursuits, may feel an intense pressure to “catch up.” The critic whispers they don’t have enough time to improve, that they missed their chance, or that they should have started earlier.
But creativity isn’t a young person’s game. Many successful authors didn’t publish their first books until their fifties, sixties, or later. Frank McCourt published Angela’s Ashes at 66. Laura Ingalls Wilder published Little House in the Big Woods at 65.
Every chapter of life brings its own challenges and opportunities. Creativity and its expression remain our most important asset at every stage of life. In each chapter of life, we are someone new. In each chapter, we have something to say that is important. The stories and archetypes of the Third Act of life are not the same as the stories of the First Act. Experience is a writer’s greatest asset. You have lived more life and gained more wisdom and perspective. You bring something to the page younger writers simply can’t. The fear that it’s “too late” is an illusion designed by a dysfunctional inner critic to keep you from taking action.
More than that, I believe everything you write adds value to the world. The very act of writing changes reality. It changes you. It’s like investing advice: the best time to start is today.
>>Click here to read The 3 Acts of a Writer’s Life—Or How Your Age Affects Your Writing
***
Although the inner critic isn’t likely to ever fully disappear, it doesn’t have to be in charge. You don’t have to wait for permission to create, and you don’t have to prove your worth before you start.
Writing is an act of courage at any age, in any season of life. The only way to silence the voice that says “why bother?” is to sit down and write anyway.
In Summary:
Self-doubt is a common struggle for writers, often stemming from fear of failure, perfectionism, or external criticism. Overcoming these doubts is possible through intentional mindset shifts and strategic habits. By recognizing negative thought patterns, setting realistic goals, and cultivating a supportive creative environment, writers can build confidence in their abilities. Ultimately, the key to conquering self-doubt lies in persistence, self-compassion, and a focus on growth rather than perfection.
Key Takeaways:
- Self-doubt is a challenge, not a stop sign. Recognizing it as a natural part of the creative process allows you to work with it instead of against it.
- Your inner critic is not your enemy. Reframe it as the Protector archetype and transform it into an ally that guides rather than hinders you.
- Fear signals opportunity for growth. Instead of avoiding fear, lean into it as a sign you’re stepping beyond your comfort zone.
- Creative ebbs are natural and necessary. Not every moment needs to be productive. Sometimes stepping back leads to deeper insights.
- Reignite your childlike creativity. Approach writing with curiosity, playfulness, and a sense of wonder rather than pressure.
- It’s never too late to start writing. Your experiences add richness to your storytelling, no matter when you begin.
Want more?
As you can see from what we’ve been talking about today, understanding archetypes—and their shadows—is a valuable resource that can help you break free from creative self-doubt and write with greater depth and confidence. My eight-week email course Shadow Archetypes: Writing Complex Fictional Characters explores how these deep psychological patterns shape both your characters, by extension, you as well. In recognizing and working with shadow archetypes, you can uncover new layers of complexity in your storytelling that can help you transform inner obstacles into strengths. If you’re interested in joining me in bringing your most compelling characters to life, you can find out more here.
Wordplayers, tell me your opinions! How do you conquer self-doubt in writing, and what strategies have helped you stay creative even when the inner critic gets loud? Tell me in the comments!
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About K.M. Weiland | @KMWeiland
I really love your points about flipping the saboteur into a helper and taking into account the ebb and flow of creativity. Doubt on the positive flipside is a kind of flexibility and openness to receiving. When listening deeper to its message it’s kind of like ‘it’s so nice you want to have fun, but we need to find someone to sponsor this.’ When I did this inner work, I realized that this is a legitimate concern. Until my work gets accepted and published, I don’t know what the pay-off will be. At the same time, I tell doubt that I deserve to relax and be creative for its own sake, and don’t need to wait until all the pieces fit together to give myself permission to do so. Bringing all this into consciousness helped me make smart choices about my writing routine and why I’m doing what I’m doing.
“Doubt on the positive flipside is a kind of flexibility and openness to receiving.”
That’s a really good point. So often, the negative thoughts that come to us are negative mostly because of the constriction they cause us to feel and/or our resistance. If we can take a moment to look past the fear response (or, sometimes, *into* the fear response if we’re otherwise not even letting ourselves get that far), we can often discover that, with a slightly different perspective, what is being offered may in fact be ultimately positive.
I love Myss’s archetype work! I used to be active on her message board 20+ years ago. 😲 Anyway, here’s MY problem writing fiction: my “why bother?”…is with humanity? If you write for someone to read, then you have to consider an “audience”. What if, for whatever reason, you don’t deem humanity worth your time (i.e. blood, sweat, tears)? Background: I’ve written 5 non-fiction books and hundreds of reviews + articles (so my misanthropic tendencies stem from those creations).
How do I write “for myself”? I don’t feel I have any story bursting to be told BUT, like you, I’m trying to reclaim my inner child. I love the idea of experimentation and seeing what I can come up with…but then I freeze. Any tips on writing, say, short stories “for fun”–and not have my Inner Critic/Saboteur keep chanting “Humanity is not worth it. You’re better off catching up on your TBR pile.”
I’d appreciate any tips! 🙏
Janet, you seem to have felt humanity worth of your non-fiction–why is fiction different? But if you do it for yourself-creativity has many benefits for an individual-just look it up or ask chatgpt 🙂
I’m aware of the benefits of creativity (I’m a certified life coach in Art Therapy and studied with Dr. Eric Maisel through Advanced Training). Humanity WAS worth my time, or so I thought. Please see my reply to Jamie.
Thank you for sharing. I think many people can relate to the feelings you’re describing.
Here’s my two cents. I feel that misanthropy and feelings of hopelessness about the world are often ultimately pointing to deeper fears and wounds within ourselves–often ones that are integrally connected to feelings that we are no longer creative, have nothing to say, or just lack passion for the process anymore. We can’t separate creativity out from the rest of ourselves or our general outlook on life.
Creativity is intrinsically an act of hope. Hopelessness and despair ultimately point inward, even when we feel the sources are external.
An exercise I have always found helpful in identifying my projections onto others (the world, society, etc.) and rehabilitating shadow pieces (e.g., despair into hope) is to turn my statements back onto myself. If I am deeming humanity unworthy of my creativity, then I look for where and how I am deeming myself unworthy of being helped, saved, or believed in–and therefore unworthy of my own creativity.
It needs to be said that there’s also a time and a place for just resting–and grieving. Even apart from outright atrocities, the world has changed so dramatically so quickly. I daresay we are all in need of the time and mercy of letting ourselves process without any expectations.
I will also say, for whatever it’s worth, that what I hear in your comment *is* hope. Only hope asks the question of how can I keep going, how can I find love and joy and belief in something greater than myself. But we can’t forget that hope is the flipside of despair; they necessarily walk together. Sometimes making friends with despair is the most hopeful thing we can do. I’ve written about my experience with that here.
I think you nailed it with “resting and grieving” (the other points you brought up don’t apply to me, but are definitely valid for most. For example, I know I’m creative).
I burned the candle at both ends for two decades, and I think I need to decondition myself from the western Protestant Work Ethic/Capitalism/Individualism that pushes us to keep producing (idleness is “sin”, and resting=guilt), turn fun things into side hustles (if you’re good at something, you should make $ off it) and be a work machine (you’re lazy if you’re not creating SOMETHING).
Hubby marvels that I’m having trouble “just” reading and learning (which is what I used to long to do). Again, I think it comes down to extricating myself and then deconditioning from the messages of the zeitgeist (including social media and “publishing experts”).
Thank you for your thought-provoking posts–and for providing a safe place to explore the more challenging (and disheartening) parts of creativity. 🙏
I have had experience in misanthropy. Or what I thought was misanthropy but may have actually been a case of “compassion fatigue.” In college I used to process petitions for marriage annulments. Petitioners would have to explain their childhood, how they met their ex-spouse, their courtship, and what went wrong in their marriage. Then their witnesses would have to give their take, and then you hear from the ex-spouse and *their* witnesses. It was interesting to see how well people *do NOT* know their friends!
There were certain types of problems I saw repeatedly, in terms of behaviors and thought processes. I had to remind myself with each new case that, “this is a different person. I’m not dealing with an idiot who keeps making the same mistake over and over again.”
In school I had a cathartic assignment for my speech class where I gave advice for “the kinds of people you should not marry, and here’s why.” I poured out every lesson I learned from that annulment job, and included dramatic visual aids such as “Orestes Pursued by the Furies” by William-Adolph Bouguereau, contrasted with functional sitcom families, dysfunctional TV drama characters, etc. It was a hit with the class; they laughed til it hurt. I would like to imagine I might have even helped at least *one* person.
In fiction, I seized the chance to apply those lessons when I had to write characters who are betrothed in an arranged marriage. Some of my real-life petitioners had arranged marriages, and their parents had made supremely stupid choices for them. So I asked, “If their parents were actually intelligent, what criteria would they use when choosing a spouse for their child?” Much more satisfying for me.
And for the petitioners who chose their spouses, “What if they were emotionally mature, and were not prone to overlooking enough red flags to stage a Soviet parade in Red Square?”
One thing you might do is consider what your ideal situation would be for the circumstances that trigger your misanthropy. Then write about how those ideal circumstances came to pass in your story. I’ve heard that Joss Whedon created Buffy the Vampire Slayer because he was tired of the trope of the cheerleader going down a dark alley and getting slain by the monster. He asked, what if the cheerleader slew the monster instead?
What do you wish people knew about X? Have a character who knows “that” about X. Do you wish people would do Y when Z occurs? Have a character do Y when Z occurs. That sort of approach helped me. Perhaps it might help you, too.
Thank you so much for your thoughtful reply, Jamie–and for sharing your experience. You may be on to something with “Compassion Fatigue”. I went to college to be a minister, co- pastored with my first husband, after 7 years of marriage he passed from leukemia, as a single woman I experienced outright misogyny MULTIPLE times, left ministry and Christianity…
For most of my life I wanted to help humanity become more conscious (and to help them with crappy choices and toxic thought processes). So I turned to Tarot, archetypes, Jungian thought and CBT) Positive Psychology as the vehicle for my “ministry”–which resulted in 5 books, two decks (co-created with my artist husband, my 2nd husband), etc.
Some of the people in the online Tarot world were utterly whacked and cruel (I even had a stalker).
But I thought I got past all my negative feelings about humanity–until Mom died suddenly 3 weeks ago. I’ve become even more acutely aware of what (and who) truly matters in this world…and humanity, as a whole, is left wanting. (I’m like George Carlin: I love people, but hate humanity. 🤭)
I’m sure the election results and clown show isn’t helping.
I DO feel the itch to create–papercraft and journal making, specifically. Maybe fiction writing is merely a “cool idea”–a challenge I wanted to set for myself (Warrior Archetype!)…but an endeavor, ultimately, that my heart and passion simply isn’t into…
Shutting up my inner critic has been the hardest aspect of writing for me. I discovered the fun of writing in the third grade when my teacher would give us students assignments. Unfortunately, I grew up with an emotionally distant mother who didn’t seem particularly impressed with my hobby despite wanting to be a writer herself, and her boyfriend who was intent on instilling the belief that I’d never amount to anything so there was no point in trying.
Despite all I’ve learned about writing (much of which comes from your site) I still lock up when I start the actual writing process. I’ll go a little bit, then look at the draft and see it isn’t at all what I’d intended (it’s a bit of a paradox, though isn’t it? No matter what story you envision it never winds up exactly like that). Then I give up and let the idea fade a bit before trying again.
My best friend and I were working on various game ideas before he moved away in October. Every time I came up with a story to tie it together he’d say, “wow, that sounds good! You should be a writer!” So I think I’ll start trying again, using your advice but also keeping his reaction in the back of my mind. Hopefully when I finally finish a WIP I can share it with him and see what he thinks.
If it’s any help, I still lock up too. 🙂 The ubiquity of the toxic inner critics doesn’t make the experience any more acceptable, but I think it helps to know that almost every writer who has ever existed has felt that way. In my experience, the only way forward is through. Keep at it. You will get better. And use some of the tips and practices in this article (and the others linked throughout) to rehabilitate the toxic inner critic.
I especially appreciate the concerns about us more mature writers putting all our forgotten creative ideas down on paper. Recently I have seen that there is a special place for all of us out there. Most of us mature writers are speaking with a different voice that is going to stand out above a lot of the newer author’s voices that are speaking from the experience of being raised in a time of technology. I want to believe that now more than ever, our wise “old” voices have even more value and appeal. We NEED to stay in there.
Trouble is, most editors are in their 20s and don’t “get” mature themes and references…
Insightful and encouraging post. Thanks for sharing your wisdom in such an accessible way.
Thanks for stopping by! Glad you enjoyed the post!
I’m 83 years old, I started writing fiction at age 70. I had never tried any type of creative writing before and never had any training in the field. I read books, scoured the internet, wrote some short stories then a novel (still in my files), went to conferences, joined a critique group, and started a second novel. I read more, wrote some more and I am currently working on the 6th version of novel number 2 because every version taught me something about writing…
From my experience, before and after I tried fiction writing; I have found that over analysis of a problem is the best way to do nothing. Paralysis by analysis is real. Any activity is more productive than sitting around, thinking “What did I do wrong?”
I get up at 7:00, get a cup of coffee and proceed to my desk every day. I study, review, research, plan and/or write until 10:30 or 11:00. Some days, I don’t produce a sentence of manuscript but I learned something and my to-do list gained five more items that I think will help me write the best book I can write. And, I will come back the tomorrow and do it again.
Why? Because I like the activities involved in creating a story. I don’t have control over whether I will ever get paid for the effort. I don’t know if anyone will read my work and like it. But I do know that my daily writing activities keep me engaged, curious, and very interested. And, I just have to open the project folder on my computer to see the results. It works.
That’s amazing. I’m so inspired by stories like this.
Such a wonderfully helpful article! It’s so easy to get discouraged, especially after a month of low or even no book sales, and to wonder if maybe you just aren’t a good writer after all. Thank you for this encouraging piece!
So glad the post was helpful. One thing I encourage is getting super-clear on your own whys and your own definitions of success. It varies for everyone, and book sales and such can be just a tiny part of that. I’ve talked about that more in this post: https://www.helpingwritersbecomeauthors.com/how-to-know-when-youre-a-successful-author/
Amazing post. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I really needed this today! Thank you. The comments about the connection of fear and bravery were inspiring, and I’m going to pin this whole post somewhere so I can come back to it when I next spiral into self doubt. Thank you!