It really seems like every writer is insecure in their own way. It’s strange to fear putting words on a page, but maybe that’s how powerful they really are. I have been trying to get better at writing for 10 years. Even before that, I was sitting alone in elementary school, writing long stories on bits of scrap paper. But like, what do I have to show for it? In fact, what do you have to show for it?
I have no talent and no success, like a reverse imposter syndrome (is my comparison even correct?) To be honest, I’m jealous of those who claim imposter syndrome, they’ve at least had some kind of success... Or at least, this line of thinking is the trick our brains play on us, isn’t it? But if our brains keep repeating such thoughts again and again, why do they even exist?
This could all be a case of the neurodivergence. I have been working towards a diagnosis for my Autism and ADHD. I still claim these titles because all of my neurodivergent friends and every doctor I’ve seen says the same thing: as my best friend summarized it, “Yeah, you’ve definitely got something.” But the fact that I’m different has made the reverse imposter syndrome even worse. Why share my opinions when few will understand me due to my lack of talent and even fewer will understand me from my neurological differences?
Ah! There goes the insecurity again.
But why do our brains do this? You fear falling off a cliff when on the edge, fear the gun firing back on you when you hold it, fear drowning when underwater too long. Why do we fear this hobby?
One of the main reasons I fear is because I may end up becoming too vulnerable. If I said the raw experiences of my life through a character: the depression, the body dysmorphia, the feeling of being “broken” my whole life, then what will people think of me? (Though are you really “broken” or is it far more likely the world just isn’t made for us?) It’s a genuine fear though: opening yourself to the world allows the predators to spot you. And they love to eat those they hate, even when they only hate you for your identity.
Of course though, penning that vulnerability on the page doesn’t just create a more interesting story but allows you as the writer to encapsulate your experiences, maybe for the first time. It also lets readers understand you and creates another light in the darkness which screams, “I’m also here!” Your identity becomes a little more known.
Yeah but like, do I even know enough about my identity anyways? Will anyone even care what I have to say? I should let others talk inst-- Shoot. Well, I did a better job of stopping it that time.
The crux of the issue, it seems, stems from our lack of knowledge. We can read our work but its quality is invisible to us. And of course, we can perceive the quality in others’ work while they can’t see it. This leaves us without the answer to if we’re even good at writing. And so, you write and improve, write and improve, on and on. But it feels less like a climb up a mountain: each step a wondrous refinement of your skills, but instead a wheel which turns round and round that gets you nowhere.
So back to the original question, “Why do our brains repeat insecure thoughts?” Strangely, while those thoughts harm our progress, ultimately they are here for our protection. You all could’ve seen this coming but the answer is really as simple as that. They exist to protect us from being too vulnerable for fear of being hurt, to protect us in case we are actually terrible.
But rule of thirds right? What’s the third reason?
It’s comforting.
It’s the kind of comfort that you tear your characters from after your inciting incident. In the real world, your mind doesn’t want no inciting incident, it wants to stay in a place comfortable and familiar. What if end up failing? What if like, we actually just suck?
You have your own journey of insecurity, your own fight with your ego to go through. If you’re writing, you probably have something you need to say. And all of us with something to say have gone through some garbage. The best advice I ever got on this was from that same friend: “Like, who cares if your writing sucks? The world always needs more art, it’ll never get enough of it. So why not keep doing it?”
Why not keep doing it?