I stopped editing
Many a time I have scrolled through the 20+ stories I have in my drafts and sighed, wondering which one I thought was close to being publishable. I had written — editing it was the daunting part. I couldn’t bring myself to read back at my work because each time I did, I lost faith in the piece and my writing in general.
I cringed at everything I wrote to the point where I couldn’t take the time to improve it; I simply locked it away and never looked again. But then of course I wasn’t putting anything out, which didn’t feel great either.
So I decided I needed to just get over my insecurities and publish what I have. If nobody sees my writing, how can I ever grow? I’ve been calling myself a “writer” for so long, but habitually hide nearly every original word from even my closest friends.
Now, I just make sure there are no glaring errors (including gibberish my cat typed as he plodded over my keyboard) and I said everything I wanted to say. Then I hit ‘publish.’ Simple.
It’s not exactly the most professional or prolific writer’s process, but it’s the only way anything ever makes it out of the documents on my laptop or my drafts on Medium. Otherwise I agonize over my voice, my word choice, my flow, etcetera. I second guess everything I’ve said and any talent I’d believed I had when I began. I’m more likely not to post something if I read it back.
“Writing is rewriting” may be true, but the only way I’ll find the confidence to begin rewriting is if I get feedback on my original drafts. I’ve begun posting short stories on Reedsy so I can see that feedback and incorporate it into my next piece. Slowly, I’m working toward feeling able to re-read my own words.
I haven’t yet found the solution to feeling insecure about my writing in general, but I’m feeling more sure of myself as a writer. Sometimes it’s just about taking the next step and sharing your ramblings, hoping they resonate with someone.
