The “Skinny” (a.k.a the Inner Critic) who sits on my shoulders is a sneaky lady. Often she is the cliché whisperer that tells me I’m not good enough…that I’ll never get an agent…that I suck, Suck, SUCK. However, she’s not always negative. In fact, she’s most dangerous when she’s flattering me.

“That’s genius, Bret.”

“Ohhh, that line will get them.”

*knee slapping laughter* “You’re good. So good.”

By stroking my ego, there are times when my Skinny lulls me into complacency. She lets me get away with good enough, instead of striving for greatness. She makes me press SEND before the manuscript is ready. She makes it hard to understand how others don’t see my brilliance. She gives me false hope and then kicks me extra hard when I fall.

As Katherine posted this week, there are times to listen to your Skinny…but no matter if the siren sings praise or poison, listening to her song should always be done with a careful ear. 

Sometimes when I talk to writing groups or do school visits, I talk about how HARD writing is. I tend to go on an on about it actually--and one of the main reasons I say it’s difficult is because of the Inner Critique, or as I call it: The Doubt Monster.

You know this creature. It’s the voice whispering that you suck. That you got lucky with the first book because your prose sucks, your characters suck, your plot sucks, and your theme.... wait. What’s theme again?

Anyway, the reason I harp on this point is not to discourage people (especially not kids.) What I want to emphasize is that writing is hard. It’s hard for me. It’s hard for new writers. It’s hard for writers with four series under their belts. What I want people to know (because I’d have loved to understand this when I was just getting started) is that having your own personal Doubt Monster is normal. The superpower that a writer must possess in order to defeat said monster is passion. If you love writing enough, you will overcome the fear of suck. You will write despite the Doubt Monster.

Now, that said, here are a few strategies I employ that help. Sometimes.

The Day Off – This is basically a non-work day, but it’s important. Sometimes the Inner Critic is loudest when you’re spending a whole lot of time with yourself. Get out. Go see a movie. Go for a walk. Take a freaking deep breath. We’re talking about books here, people. It’s supposed to be fun, not torture. (Although I’d argue that it’s often both.) Perspective, guys. Good to have.

The Sandbox Document – Open another document and free-write. Seriously. Really free-write. The less sense it makes the better. Riff on your own work, or tell yourself a little story. WHATEVER. Just get your hands in the sand and build a castle. It doesn’t have to be pretty. It just has to remind you that you CAN build castles.

The Altar – We all have an altar of favorite books. Mine includes books by the Muses, Neil Gaiman, Kristin Cashore, Dave Eggers, and so on. Pull a book off the altar shelf and read, and you will see that all they are doing is putting word after word, just like you. There is no magic to it. There is only passion, artistry, and persistence—and guess what? You have those, so get back to work.

The Mantra – Stand in front of a mirror and tell yourself a hundred times that you do not suck…. I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’ve never done this. But see? I was sort of dreading this post, doubting myself, in truth, because who am I to say I can defeat the Doubt Monster? And now I’m having so much fun in the sandbox that I’m just making stuff up.

Bottom line: Do whatever takes the edge off and makes that critique a little quieter, and then cowboy up. 

Wait… Was that harsh? I meant it to be inspiring.

The inner critic is hard to ignore.  It's loud and destructive and soul-sucking.  It always sees the flaws, but worse, it takes me out of the story.  When I'm trying to get new words on the page, the last thing I want to think about is whether they're any good or not.  It's not only crippling to the creative process, if the inner critic gets too loud, it can prevent me from hearing the voices that really matter, the characters.

The inner critic never really goes away, but I've found some things that help me to ignore it.

1. Listen to Music:  I like to listen to a playlist while I write.  Most of the time, I never hear the songs, but the white noise drowns out the inner critic.  Music helps me get into the mood of the story, and out of my own head.

2. Let the characters drive:  I used to be a pantser, and while I utilize an outline for first drafting now, I give myself freedom to veer off outline from time to time.  And, even when I'm drafting a scene that is included in the outline, I try to let the scene develop organically from the characters and conflict.  For first drafts especially, I have to remember that this story belongs to the characters, not me.  And sometimes I just have to get out of their way.

3.  Write a draft for me:  My inner critic is often loudest when I start thinking about the market while I write.  Is this too depressing?  Too dark?  Too sexy?  Too boring?  These kinds of thoughts are murder on the creative process.  I find I write better when I stop the questions and just try to write a book that I want to read.  I can always revise for the market, but the first draft is just for me.

4.  Don't look back:  It's so tempting to go back and revise chapters and scenes from earlier in the book, but too much revision can keep you from moving forward.  Revision uses a different muscle than writing new content.  Clicking your brain into edit mode can make it harder for you to get back to your manuscript. Plus, if you revise before you finish, you risk spending a lot of time on chapters or scenes that won't even end up in the book.

5.  When in doubt keep writing:  even when the inner critic won't stop blabbing about how awful and derivative your work is, you have to power through.  You can only truly silence the inner critic by writing through his taunts.

Amongst the YA Muses, we call it the "Skinny".  That little devil that reads over your shoulder.  The one that whispers not-so-sweet not-so-nothings into your ear.

Your characters are flat.  Not even William Shatner could play someone that one-dimensional.

You call that dialogue?  I call it monotonous.

Yaaawwwwnnnnnn.  When is something going to happen in this book?

All those one-star reviews are right.  I don't know how you ever got published, either.

We call it Skinny because of the title entity of Donna's book.  The "character" who follows Ever around, telling her what everyone else thinks of her.  But because of Donna's book, we know that Skinny doesn't tell the truth.  She doesn't say the things others are thinking.  She says the worst things we think about ourselves.

Not.  Helpful.

Call it Skinny.  Call it your Inner Critic.  And when you are first drafting, tell it to go away.  Get rid of it.  Because a first draft is sacred.  It's supposed to suck.  But it's also when the magic happens.  When the seeds get sown for something wonderful.  And Skinny makes the ground barren and blackens out the sunlight.  She steals all the oxygen so nothing can grow.

But how do you make that tenacious little thing let go?  It's like the creepy little Gremlins from that 80's movie.

A few tricks:

• Visualize it popping like a bubble.  Or shooting it with an air gun.  Or making it explode in the microwave.  Or trapping it in an old peanut butter jar and hiding it in the back of your pantry.  Anything.  Just make it disappear.

• Disagree with it.  Firmly.  Not open for debate.

• Call a friend.  Get his opinion.  Let him tell you how fabulous you are, how your writing is like magic and your characters glow with life.  Then find the balance and get back to the page.

• Give Skinny a chance to give her opinions, but give her guidelines.  Maybe at the end of the day, after the drafting is done.  Put these notes into your manuscript in red and come back to them in revision.

Because yes, you need to look at your work with a critical eye.  Yes, you need to be able to kill your darlings.  Yes, you need to do everything you can to improve your work.  But this happens in revision.  And your Skinny needs to give you the same treatment a good critiquer will.  Using a sandwich--good, bad, good.  Offering solutions.  Asking questions.  Making you think.  Making it better.  Not making you feel worse.

Make your Skinny work for you, not the other way around.