The Studio Source.com

Sunday, 7:00 p.m. A post needs to be written for Monday morning. It’s not happening.

“Forget it,” I say, “I’m going to welding school.”

“Okay,” the fella replies, in that unmistakable tone. He’s humouring me.

Truth be told, I didn’t use the word “forget.” I used another word, one I don’t throw around in polite company.

I couldn’t do it. The well was dry. I was convinced if I tried to utter one more syllable about marketing, or creativity, I would implode.

Here’s the thing—I have perfectionist tendencies and a long-standing hangover from a sadly misguided Protestant work ethic. My art school roommate used to joke with me about it. I could never relax—an affliction unknown to him—so I’d pretend to razz him about being lazy, and he’d reply, “That’s right,” with a big, cheese-eating grin.

Things haven’t changed much. He still knows how to relax, and I still don’t.

The work ethic has evolved into something more sensible, but it still hangs me up. I feel a huge responsibility to my readers (that would be you) to deliver valuable information. There’s a lot of noise out there. I don’t want to add to it. I don’t want to be a make-believe, self-appointed guru. I want to help people for real.

You would be amazed at how fast that kind of self-inflicted pressure can throw you into a seething pit of self-doubt.

Then again, maybe you wouldn’t.

I’ll bet my last dime you’ve been there at least once. You ask yourself, “Is this good enough?” and a voice rises up like a recurring nightmare, laughs at what you’ve just created, and snorts, “No!”

When that happens, all you want to do is raise the white flag, gather your wounded, and get the hell off the battlefield as fast as you can.

But before you declare your surrender, there’s something you need to know. The voice isn’t yours. And it’s lying to you.

“Is this good enough?” is a worthwhile question. It means you care about what you send into the world. It means you’re not so deluded that you think everything you create is perfect and wonderful. It keeps you from becoming complacent.

If something needs a little more polish, or even a major rework, fair enough. A sense of responsibility to your audience, a sense of integrity, pushes you to be better. A chronic, knee-jerk, all-encompassing negative response will make you crazy. That goes beyond self-doubt and into full-blown self-sabotage. You can’t make anything good when you’re being crushed under that weight.

You need to know where your self-doubt comes from, and you need to shut it down.

You don’t require a PhD in psychology to figure it out. Somewhere along the line, maybe when you were a kid, you got it into your head you couldn’t. That’s not an accidental grammatical error, that’s how it feels when you fall into serious self-doubt. You can’t. Period.

Something happened to make you internalize someone’s criticism. When you were little, you didn’t have the experience, or the vocabulary, to understand how the world works. When someone criticized you in adult terms instead of talking to you at your level of understanding, you weren’t able to reason it out. Adults were powerful. Adults knew everything. So you decided you were wrong.

Maybe it happened later in life. Someone you admired stomped all over you. And you absorbed it.

You might not even be aware of how it seeped into your consciousness. But now you carry it around, a toxic load of criticism and negativity, waiting like a virus to jump on you when your defenses are down.

It might happen when you’re about to send work to a jury, or bidding on a job. It might rear its ugly head when you’re developing new work, or crafting promotional copy.

One negative comment from one person could trigger it.

Or it might just show up when you’re overtired, or when you’ve been working too hard, and all you’re trying to do is something you’ve been doing consistently for months, or even years.

Pull back the curtain and see self-doubt for what it is—an imposter. A boogeyman who should have been retired long ago.

If you learned the skills and executed something that was good, you have proof you can do it. If you’re starting out, you’re not supposed to be a master. Mastery takes time and practice. The “no good” message is a habit so deeply ingrained in your thought patterns it’s automatic.

Self-doubt a short circuit. When you stop the automatic response and change the habit, you fix the wiring.

Skills improve. Techniques evolve. We mature as artists and as people. We all make mistakes. That doesn’t mean you’re no good—it means you have more to learn. We all have more to learn. There will always be room for something better.

The next time self-doubt comes calling, force it to state its case. Demand proof. Require it to justify its position. When you turn it back on itself—when you look it in the eye and hold your ground—it crumbles.

Over to you—what’s the most effective way you’ve found to fend off self-doubt?  What, or who, helps you through?

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