Blank Page, the Writer’s First Hurdle
Perfectionism is a disease, not a personality trait.
Photo by Kira auf der Heide on Unsplash
As a writer, you know what it’s like to stare at a blank page. For some, the blank page is the canvas of opportunity. For many, it’s the most uncomfortable thing, sans rejection, that one can experience as a writer. It’s an awkward silence that one can only experience alone. Most people fix it by doing something other than writing — usually daydreaming about commercial success. Most people call that procrastinating.
As someone who often proofreads his own text messages, I still have a lot to learn when it comes to writing without inhibition.
I’m guilty of it, too. I’ve spent years avoiding my writing because I didn’t “know what to write.” Let’s deconstruct this impulse.
Spontaneous conception
Almost every creator’s formative moments involve the excitement of spontaneously conceiving a fully-formed scene in your head and realizing it in your chosen medium. With time, we may depend upon such occasions to get us writing. Faced with such concrete inspiration, it seems counter-intuitive to write without it. Yet, it is necessary for writers to do exactly that.
I once had the notion that telling stories was skill that one had or didn’t have. I placed it in a separate category from technical writing or academic writing, things I knew could be learned and improved with practice. It didn’t occur to me that writing fiction was a skill— that I would have to put myself out there and be wrong (often!) to get better. As a burgeoning writer, the sooner you embrace being wrong and learning from it, the sooner you will find success.
Deconstructing the mythological perfectionist
Many writers self-identify as “perfectionists,” going so far as to make it the basis of their personality. (Generally interchangeable with self-described “OCD” in this context.) However, the average “perfectionist” is no paragon of fastidiousness, but instead, a mélange of unresolved fears and issues. Such people fear one or more of the following:
rejection
being wrong
criticism
vulnerability
unworthiness
confidence
happiness
Some of you may look at the last two items on the list and think, “what?” I’ll get to them.
The fears of a perfectionist
Perfectionism is often presented as a substitute for timely production.
“I was late with the first draft because I was triple-checking for errors.”
“I didn’t submit my short story in because the ending feels contrived.”
While both responses sound reasonably self-aware — and might be in certain contexts — they are a common refrain of individuals who fear rejection. This is all “perfectionism” usually amount to. As a self-professed “perfectionist,” nothing has taught me this more efficiently than writing and blogging. In order to put myself out there, I had to dissect and disarm the impulses to delay, to rework.
I had to let myself know that rejection is rarely a personal affront. In writing, it means (1) the ideas are not appropriate for the publication or (2) the delivery needs improvement. Neither will end the world. Being wrong is not immutable “proof” of my incompetence, but a necessary step on the way to being right. Being rejected doesn’t mean that I’m intrinsically not good enough — it means my approach isn’t good enough. That can be adjusted.
Being confident enough to publish my words doesn’t automatically make me arrogant. It means that I wanted to help people or entertain them. If I succeed, that’s a good thing. I deserve to succeed if I work hard, use sound principles, and uplift others along the way.
Mindfulness and the first draft
These fears manifest often manifest themselves the same way: overthinking the first draft. There are numerous strategies dedicated to getting the first draft finished, most of which employ tricks to override your fears. I even employ a few tricks of my own. The catch: I did not find them particularly useful until I addressed the root causes of my fear.
The blank page is one place where mindfulness becomes helpful. As a writer, you will inevitably ask yourself questions like:
Am I good enough to write this?
Does this scene or plot point work?
Is this article or story interesting?
The first question is an obvious exhibition of self-doubt. The other two are more insidious, as they can be asked out of fear as well as concern for proficiency. Asking if a scene or a plot point works is understandable (assuming you planned the story in advance). Wondering if your story is interesting is also a legitimate concern. Both can best be answered by simply writing the story/article and letting a beta reader answer those questions.
Once you realize that you don’t have to entertain every thought that enters your head, you will find it much easier to deflect these doubts when they arise.
As someone who often proofreads his own text messages, I still have a lot to learn when it comes to writing without inhibition. Frequently, identifying the source of your inhibitions is only the first step in surmounting them. Rather than a one-time revelation, continuous effort is required to keep your fears at bay.