I faced my writer’s block for about thirty-one days until I silenced my inner critic. Shut up Jack! I had to scold him. I am sick and tired of your noise, your incessant ranting and accusations. Do you always have to remind me of my flaws? I am trying my best to change, why do you keep making me feel like I am all crap and cannot be anything else but crap? You know what? I am never going to let you torment me this way again. This is the last time I will let you shut me up, the last time I will drop my pen in the middle of a great piece because you said, Oh Flora, this is terrible. No, Flora, you cannot make yourself vulnerable. You have to write like this or like that. I said with a stern face as I spoke to my inner critic, Jack. I felt a cold chill run down my spine the moment I had this victory that lasted only fifteen days.
Jack disappeared. My joy was short-lived, he had only gone to get better. His return was a nightmare! He was bigger and meaner. Hi Flora, I am back. This felt like I was I was imagining the monsters in R.L Stine’s goosebumps series. Will I win again?
If you have never felt the way I felt you may not understand this. I do believe that we all have that inner critic, that guy in your head that keeps saying, you have stop before you make a complete mess of yourself. This is not just about writing or any other art, it is about life itself.
I am first a Christian before I was a writer. You see, while I thought about this line, I heard Jack say, no Flora, you can’t say that. They will mock you but I refused to pay attention. Jack is the guy that says every time I pick my bible to read, hey did you not just tell a lie, hey you just used a curse word, you were lusting when your eyes met with that guy’s eyes- I heard you say ‘he is cute’ and he keeps taunting you will every kind of accusation till you admit and say, yeah I am really terrible and God will not listen to me. Then mean Jack dances because he has won.
Halfway through what I envisaged as a great story, I dropped my pen. I began analyzing my piece. I think there is something wrong with this piece. I can’t talk about this. I mean, I have no knowledge of the theme of this story. Why should I write about it? I covered my notepad, and slept. Two nights later, I started writing another piece. He crawled into my sheets and stared into my eyes, I knew that was the end.
Guys, I know I am not the only one who faces this. You have your critic too, the one that says, c’mon you cannot continue with this project. Your failure is staring you in the face and your mockers will throw a feast.
Do you want to continue listening to him?
Will you let his voice quiet yours?
Do something today,
Shut him up.
Thank you for taking time to read, I hope this speaks to somebody. Please, your comments are important to me, let me know what you think.
I am your friend,
I love you.
Friends, this is a little spice:
- The human brain cell can hold 5 times as much information as the Encyclopedia Britannica.
- The brain is much more active at night than during the day.