When Creativity is Attacked by Self-Doubt

A lesson in surviving your mind's attacks

Around 10 days ago, as I was writing, my old friend, Self-Doubt, pulled up a chair and sat next to me.

He put one hand around my shoulder, leaned in toward my ear, and started telling me all the things I know him so well for.

"You've been writing for so long and you still stuck."

"Who do you think you are? Why would anyone want to read what you have to say?"

"You better give up before you waste another year."

I don't know if this will surprise you or not, but five years into my writing journey, I still deal with self-doubt on a regular basis.

It would be unfair if I didn't mention that the activity of writing occasionally gives me moments of transcendence. Every once in a while, it feels like words are flowing out of me. It feels like I'm a carrier of a message that can be delivered only through me. A message that must be delivered. Time stops. Words and I become one. In that moment, my existence is justified.

These moments have to be earned. They cannot be willed or forced. Sometimes, I'm blessed with a week or even a whole month where most writing sessions feel like this.

But more often than not, writing, like every creative pursuit, entails pushing through some form of resistance. Sometimes it's fear, sometimes it's self-doubt, and sometimes it's plain old laziness. Out of these three, self-doubt is my most common visitor.

So I wasn't surprised when Self-Doubt joined me in one of my recent writing sessions. I've made peace with it and befriended it a long time ago. I'll let it do its little performance, allow it to give its speech, and keep doing my thing—write.

However, this time was different. For the first time in a long while, the voice didn't go away. It persisted throughout the writing session and turned it into a slog. The next day, my annoying friend showed up again. My attitude changed from acceptance to frustration. The next day, once again.

This turned into a week of self-doubt as intense as I've ever felt it. It's enough to say that, after five years of writing and being blessed with an audience of over 200K people across platforms, I seriously contemplated whether I had made the wrong choice in life by pursuing writing.

Some people reading this might say that experiencing those levels of self-doubt after years of experience and objective success is strange. Is something wrong with me for my inner voice to be playing tricks on me like this? It's a valid question, but one I don't waste my time on.

As much as I swear by structured self-reflection, there's a point of diminishing returns with it. Rather than continue to ask myself why my self-doubt is so intense, I prefer to keep writing or engage in other projects and activities I find meaningful.

And, just like that, tears of joy filled my eyes one day.

As I kept writing with what felt like 10% of my capacity...

Stop, David, STOP!

“How did you keep writing in the face of such intense self-doubt? Don’t skip that part.”

I hear you, I hear you. Of course, that's the question to address. Sorry, but there's no framework, plan, hack, or secret to share. I just kept writing because that's what I do. That's what I want to do, what I must do, what I can't not do. My previous essay on making major life decisions might clarify my relationship with writing.

There's one semi-practical thing I can share. When I say, "I kept writing," it doesn't mean I was satisfied with the quality or that I enjoyed it. That's why I said, "What felt like 10% of my capacity?" when you interrupted me.

I accepted that my writing was going to feel and look shitty and that it would take way longer than usual to complete.

With this acceptance, as I kept writing with what felt like 10% of my capacity, I had to look through my older writing to find a certain reference.

Considering I have around 330 pieces published on Substack, finding what I was looking for took some time. I was unsure which essay contained the sentence I was searching for. And, of course, I got distracted and started reading essays I had forgotten I wrote.

However, searching for this reference, I found something infinitely more valuable.

I found proof that I can write something that doesn't suck.

While reading one of my essays from almost a year ago—an essay whose overall quality I'm not satisfied with—I found a sentence I liked.

If I read this in someone else's writing, I would like it. This sentence would resonate with me. It would speak to me.

My writing can resonate! I'm capable of writing at least a single sentence that doesn't suck! My writing isn't a complete waste of time!

Tears of joy filled my eyes. I can write, and there's a reason for me to keep writing.

There was nothing I needed to do after this. No meditation, deep breathing, or affirmations were needed. My good old friend Self-Doubt got up and walked away from my writing desk. I know we'll meet again, probably sooner rather than later. But I'll be ready.

I wish I could give you a more romantic conclusion from this experience than the one I'm about to share. Actually, I'm lying. I love the conclusion that follows.

I had over 300 (three hundred) essays that I could go through in search of proof that my writing didn't suck. It's safe to say the odds were in my favor that I would find at least one sentence I liked.

How to defeat self-doubt? Give yourself a fighting chance.

How do you give yourself a fighting chance? Accumulate so much work that, even though not all of it will be evidence against self-doubt, evidence will be found somewhere in it.

I know we live in a world of ultra-mega-giga high-performers. You could’ve spent the last few minutes reading about how to gain a million subscribers in a week or make six figures working half an hour a day—but you chose to be here with me. Thank you. And that qualifies you for hopefully appreciating my closing words.

Self-doubt shows up. Our job is to keep showing up longer than it does.

Free Resources:

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