Doubt is a natural thing for authors–for just about any profession. So I’m sharing a method to get rid of it. Personification.
Doubt. He’s a cold fish in a dusty old striped suit, with a ridiculous hat over a sharp nose. Sometimes he slips in a door I thought I’d shut behind me and slithers into a chair. He sniffs at me, clearly unimpressed with my work and determination.
“Really?” he says, “Are you sure you can do this?” His British accent sounds contrived.
I nod and mumble, “Go away. You’re not helping.”
“Ah, so you aren’t quite certain,” he raises a thin eyebrow. He smells stale, but the pompous manner in which he crosses one leg over the other gives the impression he thinks otherwise.
I try to reason away my uncertainty, “It’s not just me, you know. Even famous writers wonder if… If…”
“If today they’ll discover you’re a fraud?”
I hate it when he’s eloquent on days I’m not. I hate the way he picks the dirt from beneath his nails and flicks it to the floor. As if that bit of dirt is me.
Doubt is about to speak again when I hear a woman say, “Doubt can make you work harder. But he’s destructive. Unhelpful. He can’t stay.”
Gumption is here! That chick is kick-ass, and she empowers me. I point to the door, “Get out, Doubt! I’ve work to do.”
As Doubt slinks away, Gumption winks at me, “You’ve got this.” Yes. I do.