Stop Hitting Yourself
It's Hard To Write While You're Punching Yourself In The Face
Writers are weird.
We invent whole people out of thin air, and create complex worlds of mystery, magic, action, twists, and romance… and then we hate ourselves because the first draft isn’t perfect. We pour our guts on the page, and then beat ourselves up over the mess.
Why are we like this?
I’ve had some pretty brutal criticisms in my life, but I’ve never had feedback more harsh than the kind I give myself. I’m the type of writer who, when someone compliments my script, just assumes they’re being polite.
Because I’m the worst. The script is a mess. It’s sloppy. There’s bad exposition. One scene I had to rush. The stakes are unclear, the characters are boring, the dialogue is flat — if only I were a good writer...
My Inner Critic is ever-present, outspoken, and a demanding, judgmental @$$#*%&.
And from what I can tell, I’m not the only writer who has one. So let’s discuss.
The Bully in Your Brain
I have some theories on the nature of our constant mental spiral — where the psychosis comes from, and why it’s so hard to shake. I’ve done some (minimal) research in preparation for writing this — but I’m curious to hear what you think. Maybe I’m missing something!
In no particular order:
Your Drive to Survive: Our brains are hardwired to find and fix mistakes. This isn’t unique to writers — it’s an evolutionary survival mechanism. For most of human history, this meant, “Don’t eat that, that’s poison, Brenda.” Nowadays, it’s, “You missed a typo, you absolute potato.”
There’s a part of your brain — your anterior cingulate cortex — that lights up when you make mistakes, especially social ones. Evolution trained it to see failure as danger. It doesn’t know the difference between a lion and a lukewarm script note… (What a moron.)
Upbringing & Conditioning: If you grew up being praised only for achievements, or criticized harshly for failure, you may have internalized the idea that your worth is conditional. That you are what you produce.
So you start scanning for flaws — not to improve, but to justify the feeling that you don’t deserve to be loved.
For anyone who needs to hear it: your worth is not conditional. You are more than what you produce.
Comparison Culture: Social media is just the worst (he says, on a social media platform) — we are inundated with everyone else’s highlight reels, while we’re stuck watching our raw footage. Or, we’re reading polished drafts while haunted by our own terrible vomit-pass.
In my experience, knowing this hasn’t made it any easier to manage. But the reminder is helpful.
The Illusion of Control: Self-blame can feel weirdly empowering. If everything’s your fault, that means you could hypothetically fix it. (Humans are so weird.)
Sometimes, timing is the missing ingredient for a project. Letting a draft sit, waiting for the right feedback, or heck — just living more — can be the difference between a draft you hate and one you’re proud of.
We can’t control timing. And that’s scary. It feels easier — safer, even — to blame ourselves.
Fear of Vulnerability: If you equate toughness with strength, then self-compassion feels like admitting defeat. It’s safer to gird yourself with shame and judgment — to internalize and battle alone — than it is to be wholly seen.
Perfectionism: Obvious, maybe. But some of us view flaws in our writing as flaws in our character. Or proof of inadequacy.
Perfectionism is the megachurch version of fear. Everything above — comparison, control, shame — feeds it. It turns writing into a test.
One we’re already failing.
Why It’s Not Helping
You can’t write truthfully, and perform for imaginary approval at the same time.
I don’t want to infantilize anybody — but let’s say we’re children. Or — the writer part of us is, anyway… It can be an unruly, uncooperative, moody, messy monster. How do you “gentle-parent” your inner critic offspring?
Now, in life, I am not a parent (to humans), but I do know there is a huge difference between shaming and discipline.
Shame is not productive. Shame is paralyzing.
Discipline, on the other hand, is about building routines. Creating room to try and grow and iterate — and do so with purpose and efficiency.
That petulant, judgy, inner-critic toddler isn’t going anywhere — and shaming it won’t make it any more bearable.
But — with some discipline — it can be productive.
When Your Bully Works for You
The irony is, your inner critic is actually a symptom of having strong taste, and decisive opinions. Those aren’t bad qualities — they just usually come out too early (and sometimes linger too long).
So I propose one — or all — of four strategies:
Hire Your Critic as Your Editor, Not Your Writer. Acknowledge that writing takes time, patience, and iteration. If it helps, put “Write Now, Edit Later” on a post-it, and stick it somewhere visible.
Name it, and Shame it. (I know what I just said about shame, but hang on, we’re turning the tables here.) Sometimes the worst thing you can do is ignore the critic. It can be liberating to simply say, “Oh hi, Brenda, you gaseous brain goblin — thanks for the notes, but I’m the one writing right now.”
Measure Progress, Not Proof. You’re a writer — the job isn’t to prove you’re a genius in one swing, it’s to keep going until the story works.
Find Your Feedback Friends. Writing groups don’t just provide accountability, they help turn shame into perspective. I’ve talked before about strategies for giving, getting, and sorting through feedback, but having sources you trust is a game changer for your creative sanity.
From Bullies to Buddies
You can’t write truthfully, and perform for imaginary approval at the same time.
Being hard on yourself may feel like precision, or productivity — it might feel like truth — but it’s just noise. Ironically, it’s openness to failure and comfort with imperfection that gets you past both — faster.
Sure — easier said than done.
And yeah, maybe your first draft is a mess. That’s the job. The work is hard — it’s supposed to be. But cutting your own legs off won’t make the journey any easier.
So the next time the ol’ Inner Critic kicks in your door with a megaphone and a PowerPoint titled Why You Suck, try this:
Tell it you’re busy.
Then keep writing.
Like right now — Brenda thinks this article is dumb and too long.
Maybe she’s right.
I’m posting it anyway.
I’d love to hear from you — what helps you shut up the inner critic and keep going? Routines? Rituals? Spotify playlists? Drop a comment and let me know. Misery loves company. And snacks.
What I've personally found incredibly helpful is to love the story from a place outside of the ego; where you're driven to write not because it's your story with your name on it, but because you want to see it fly as its best self, for the sake of itself and what it might teach. If we're not writing for any approval, real or imagined, what's stopping us from writing truthfully?
Great piece, dude!
Something I think that makes writing especially hard is that unlike any other creative endeavor, the medium of writing is the writing in and of itself.
Art is the expression of an idea or feeling through a medium. With drawing, your medium is paper and pencil. Painting is paint and canvas. Sculpting is a block of marble, or scraps of metal, or a blob of clay. Singing is the human voice, and Dancing is the human body itself. In all of these art forms, you start with a medium and get to turn it into art.
Writing is different. When you sit down to write, there is no medium. You start with absolutely nothing, because the real medium of writing is actually that first draft. You have to have something to *work* with to get to the good stuff. Writing is expressing an idea *inside of another idea*. The content itself is the medium, and the task of writing, the artistry of it, is then re-writing it until it's actually good.
I think that's why the "Write Now, Edit Later" is such a salient point.