Victoria (V.E.) Schwab recently posted the above quote on Instagram. I read it and it stabbed me deep in my belly, because THIS IS EXACTLY HOW I FEEL. The encouraging part is that the feeling of inadequacy isn't paralyzing me. I simply keep pressing ahead, writing my 1000 words a day, learning to multitask story restructuring with continued drafting (definitely a new place for me). And I'm learning that pressing through the underlying belief that I don't know what I'm doing and every word on the page is dung is making me stronger and more capable.
Mind you, there are always the unbidden bouts of angst that grab me by the entrails and shake my world for a time. That's when the tears come--those moments where I truly and utterly believe that I CAN'T DO WHAT I'M ACTUALLY DOING.
Think about that. I'm DOING it, but I don't believe I CAN do it. Even though I've DONE it before.
Are you feeling it? Nodding vehemently, maybe? Fighting your own tears?
What we create is always bigger than we are, because that's what art is, in all its forms. BIGGER than us, to draw us out and encourage our minds and hearts and spirits to expand. It's also bigger than us because it really does take a village to create a book. We all know that writing doesn't take place in a vacuum, and that the input from our beta readers and critique partners and agents and editors is a huge part of each story's development and final state.
Yet the feelings of inadequacy persist. So I fight through them every day, enjoying moments of sparkle and moments of hope along the way (though it's not unusual to have many days in a row without any hope at all). Sometimes I actually say out loud to myself, "Why am I doing this?" or even "I can't do this."
Seriously. That's called SPEAKING LIES TO YOURSELF. And I know better.
Anyway. As soon as I read Victoria's words this morning, I knew I had to share them. My brain screamed THIS THIS THIS THIS until I saved the file and opened Blogger. Because always, always, always, there is someone who desperately needs not to feel alone. Someone who feels so inadequate in the moment that quitting feels easier.
Don't do it. Don't quit.
And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm heading back to Scrivener and my hot mess of a story (that, deep-down inside, I'm excited about, despite the first draft slog and the constant I-can't-do-this), and I'm going to SLAY the sense of inadequacy today.
And so are you.