Finding My Why to Write Again
My 7-year-old self helped me find it again.
I’ve been feeling down lately, and it’s no secret that I get stuck scrolling on my phone sometimes. Okay, a lot of times.
I’m guilty of scrolling on Substack, and other social platforms when I could be writing.
One afternoon I felt especially discouraged. I was feeling like I didn’t know where to turn next for my writing. My book sales were dropping off, and I wondered if I should take action or let it slide. The two other books that I published after that are stagnant and didn’t do nearly as well as my first book.
Should I update those two other books? Maybe, I should edit or finish my current illustrated poetry book I’m working on. I’m frozen with that one. Self-doubts are keeping me stuck, so it sits in my drafts.
Inner critic lies
Somedays my inner critic says to me, “You really aren’t that great at writing. You suck! No one wants to read it anyway. You are wasting your time.” I know they are lies and I end up spiraling into them when I’m tired or in a low mood.
Comparison trap
It can be easy for myself to get caught in the comparison trap. I find myself wondering why others have more likes on Substack than I do. Why are my numbers dropping off on this platform? I’ve published over 400 posts here, yet I see others that are doing better. That all or nothing thinking can make me forget what I am thankful for. It can make me forget why I write here and can prevent me from appreciating my own unique writing. When I get caught in that, I don’t appreciate the wonderful creators that I found here that have influenced, supported and encouraged me.
Write as a child
Writing used to be so simple as a child. All I needed was a pencil and paper plus my imagination. It brought me joy. What I would give to have those times back. Little did I know I might be able to.
Later that afternoon I searched my filing cabinet upstairs. Those cabinets are filled with many notebooks that I’ve written in throughout the years. There were also several larger envelopes where my mom saved my “important papers,” from my childhood. I was pleasantly surprised when I saw the book I wrote when I was about 7 or 8 years old, titled “The Mouse and the Fan.” It was written in cursive. Impressive since cursive is a lost art now in many elementary schools.
I think I rewrote this a year later and made it into a book. Either way it’s still impressive.
I illustrated the book myself. It was charming how I misspelled words, but it was mine. Memories came flooding in and I remembered the world I used to disappear into when I wrote. Few people outside of my family knew that I wrote creatively. I didn’t want others to think I was “weird,” especially as I approached my teen years.
I smiled at the book’s faded cover and remembered the beauty of creating with writing and art. That’s what I was missing. The journey of creating and not worrying about the destination. It was a time when I wrote, and I didn’t care if anyone would like it or not. I did.
Written and illustrated by 7-year-old Jane.
Taking the time to read my work.
Will everyone like my writing? No. Do I want everyone too? Part of me says yes and part of me says no. It does mean a lot to me when other’s read my work, especially those closest to me. It means the world if they would take time to read and comment on my work. Would it hurt if they didn’t? Yes, it does. I try to remind myself that my writing isn’t for everyone. Not everyone likes to read and if they do, they may like different styles and genres of writing.
As for the book I finally published at 56, I have sold more than I imagined. Exhausted by the self-publishing process, I finally published in July. I thought my immediate family and I would be the only one’s reading it. I was pleasantly surprised that was not the case. I think I’ve sold close to 70 copies so far, and that amazes me!
I am proud of those accomplishments, yet it isn’t enough for me. Why do I feel the need to do that? This lifelong feeling that I have to prove myself, certainly is one reason. Is my compulsion to compare myself to others on social media magnifying this?
Maybe an option would be to get off of social media altogether. I know phone scrolling can distract and cause dopamine to spike and drop. It can be an addiction and the platforms, including this one, know exactly what they are doing. I tell myself I can cut back and limit social media, my intentions are always good, but it’s been a slippery slope.
What can I do now? I can ask a 7-year-old child. I can remember my why when I picture little Jane sitting on the edge of her bed writing. I see her being swept into a world of imagination and I see a little girl that is happy and has a gift.
I wish I had a photo of myself writing as a child, but it was the late 1970s and early 80s.
There is a saying that states, “comparison is the thief of joy.'' I truly can see that. Was little Jane comparing her writing? No! I wrote because it brought me joy. I wrote because it was who I was.
It’s all so simple, yet as an adult I complicated it. If only I could remember to look through the eyes of a child. I know that’s what little Jane would tell me and I will try to listen to her.
Love this post!
Hi Jane, I think you have your own style, so it’s better for you not to compare yourself to anyone. If your writing gives you joy, as it did when you were seven, do it not necessarily for any audience, but for yourself. What you write is going to evoke a different reaction from every reader, so it’s difficult to know what is going to reach them. I think it’s more like tossing the spaghetti at the wall and seeing what sticks. Some posts will, others won’t. I don’t think you should gauge your abilities based on popularity, either. That’s for high school. Write because you like it, and when you don’t, take a break and take stock. It’s not something you can do under pressure, unless you’re a newspaper reporter. I appreciate that you’re here, and I always look forward to your posts 😊.