A few years ago, I posted the following on a message board for writers:

I have a story that I think is fabulous. I’m excited about it. I have a semi-outline that could use a bit more padding but whatever. I have characters I love. I know where I want to go with it. Most of it is figured out in my head.

But I Just. Can’t. Write.

It’s driving me insane. I’m sitting in front of the computer going, I can do this, I can do this. I read the last paragraph. It’s good. Keep going.

And then, there it is. Panic. You’re no good. Your writing is worthless. People will read this. Too much back story. You think this is funny? How can you approach such a serious topic with such a chicklit-y voice? Cross-cultural stuff– who do you think you are, Amy Tan? Indians will hate you. Americans will hate you. You’re too explicit. So much description. Where’s the dialogue? Do you really think people will want to read this shit? Why are you wasting so much time? Don’t you have deadlines? You suck. Yousuckyousuckyousuck.

Erm, advice?

It wasn’t just this one project that got me panicky. I feel this way at the beginning of many projects, as I know many writers and journalists do. What makes me a professional is that I get through it fairly quickly. It doesn’t paralyze me.

There have been articles, columns, and entire chapters in books dedicated to the topic of the internal editor, so I won’t rehash that here. But while most writers suggest that you silence that critic, I’ve found there’s something different that works for me: giving it a voice.

I think the whole idea that if you write down something, you’ve essentially released it from your mind, works. So, in my first drafts, especially in essays, I simply put a bracket and write down the criticism that popped into my head as I was writing. So I’ll be working on a sentence, and right next to it will appear something like this: [Yeah, yeah, get on with it, no one cares] or [Badly worded; change] or even [Buy a bloody thesaurus.]

Of course, you could argue that this can be self-defeating because you’re basically telling yourself, in writing, that you suck. But seeing as I tell myself that ten hours a day anyway, I’m really just putting it on paper and out of my mind. Clearing up the space in my brain, if you will.

Despite my suckiness, I tell myself, I’ve written hundreds of articles, built a career, and made a living with it for the last six years. Surely, I can write whatever it is I’m struggling with.

So I write down the criticism of the work in front of me, and get on with it. It’s easier to deal with the flaws during the second draft phase.

What works for you?