So I’ve got thirty four days to finish edits on a first draft novella, and write a synopsis and query for it. And of course now that the real work is here, gone is the muse infused frantic need to get the story down. Now I probe for my muse and all I see is a jumble of words that seem like if they were cleaned up would make a nice story, but somehow I can’t bring my muse out of hiding. She’s probably shopping for new doorknocker earrings I imagine. Or yet another pair of shoes she doesn’t need.
Instead of the energy and glimmer of hope and light, all I see is the cloud of doom looming over my head. That’s right, the Doubt Demon. So funny she’s always more than happy to show up to the party and ruin it for everyone. What? You don’t recognize her? She’s that sloppy drunk friend at the club or a party who sees you about to get the number of a really cute guy then proceeds to throw up all over your three hundred dollar shoes you could barely afford. (I know that hasn’t just happened to me before)
So in addition to all my writing duties, I have to fight this hepher off as she tells me that I’m insane to think I can complete this much work in this much time. She likes to tell me I was insane to become a writer anyway and I really should go back to watching Real Housewives of Atlanta and Burn Notice and forget all about my little book. Because after all, it’s not like it’s any good.
So far I’ve tried flame throwers, setting my pooch, Onyx on her, and shoving her in the closet. My next move is a sand blaster, though I fear for my living room. That doubt demon is quick and slippery.
I know many a writer struggle to evict this elusive tenant. Even those who are wildly successful forever think, “What if the last success was just a fluke? What if I can’t do this?”
At the end of the day, as a writer our one job is to persevere and get the story out, even if you have to coax it out of your muse with stupidly expensive shoes you can’t afford.
Anyone have a good suggestion for how to get rid of the Doubt Demon?