It took me two years to write the rough draft of my first novel. Two long excruciating years. I doubted myself at every phase. I hated the way I opened the book. It was too clumsy and awkward. I was embarrassed about the middle. It was convoluted and wandered down too many dead ends. I cringed when I wrote the ending. It was completely cliché and way, way too obvious.
Being a self-published author means that you get access to a host of services that aren’t available to you if you go the traditional route. Like checking your daily sales reports on Amazon. As a self-published author you can check in whenever you want to see how many books you sold that day. Consequently, some days are awesome. You sold a lot of books! And other days you feel disappointed or confused or just like plain crap. Your sales took a dive, or worse, you sold none at all.
In short, you get a free ticket for the approval vs. rejection rollercoaster and you can ride it as many times as you want. Sometimes the ride leaves you feeling exhilarated and sometimes you just feel sick and dizzy and question why you ever thought getting on the ride was a good idea at all.
I have a very good friend who is 83 years old. We hang out together on Saturday mornings mostly, and talk about politics and history while he tells me various stories from his long and colorful life. Usually when I tell people the age of my friend they assume he has trouble getting around, or that maybe he’s in a wheelchair or has difficulty remembering details. But nothing could be further from the truth.
Every writer has the voice of their inner critic somewhere inside their head. It might be a judgmental parent, or a toxic friend, or even someone from a long-ago writing group who made one hurtful comment about your story that stuck with you forever.
We all know the inner critic when that voice shows up.