So today I will write on my most recent affirmation, which is “Don’t overthink.”

Which means, I guess, I should end this post right now so I avoid overthinking about why I shouldn’t overthink. Perhaps like many affirmations, success is not guaranteed :).

Why this affirmation? Recently I was second guessing all of my choices as a writer, as well as questioning the wisdom of submitting my writing for publication. There are many good reasons for doubt. There is no perfect choice of what to write or where to submit. Rejection is not much fun, especially because it is often justified yet simultaneously a result of the randomness of the selection process.

Indeed, I have been on enough hiring committees to know that wonderful candidates can be passed over mostly due to the random alchemy of views and biases of the committee members, of the way one quality is sought over another, and a lot of what I might call the quirks of the moment. It is not really a logical process, though we all go through the motions of trying to be logical and fair. We try. The people who reject my writing (and there aren’t many because I don’t submit my writing often) try to make the best judgement based on the moment. It’s not them. But it’s also not necessarily me. So  I stare at this random mix of meaning and meaninglessness, and think, hmm, maybe I shouldn’t play this game?

But then I come back to this. I need to write. Every day is better if at some point I spend even a few minutes with the words. So I can’t choose what to write based on what might be published. Instead, I need to write what I need to write. Don’t overthink it. And now and then, submit into the void, remembering it’s a void. Just because I don’t know what will happen, or that there are risks within both rejection and success, doesn’t mean I should back off. I have to tap into my courage, tinged with humility. I offer my ideas, my hopes, my reflections, my jokes, and even my grief into the void. I don’t have to be in control of what happens after that.

Just write, I whisper to myself, and to anyone else who is listening. Don’t overthink.

Writing about my affirmations must have been helpful because I have found my way back to the words lately, spending more time revising my novel than posting on my blog. Still, I would like to continue to share some affirmations that have aided me in the past and perhaps present.

This one is not a catchphrase as much as a juxtaposition: Combine courage with humility.

Courage makes sense as a value to embrace, especially for a writer. So often, writing involves the effort to capture ideas in print only to be disappointed by how my words fall short of my vision. It can certainly be discouraging, and then the editing process involves hitting my head against flaws in my writing again and again and again and again… I can look a thousand times and still find more to fix. And that doesn’t even touch on the experience of submitting my writing for publication, which involves what feels like endless opportunities for rejection.

Courage is essential. Yet humility is essential, too. I have to keep in mind that whatever vision I bring to my work will always be partial. There will always be something I am missing, either in my understanding or in my efforts to share this understanding. Any amount of success can do more harm than good if I lose the ability to listen and watch for what I don’t know or for where I am falling short. Indeed, the more I come to know, the more I become aware of what I don’t know.

Humility is what brings the greatest insights to me, the greatest opportunities for transformation. Yet humility exists in tension with courage. Courage requires a boldness, a devil-may-care attitude that is the antithesis of humility, which suggests hesitation and observation.

Within that tension, perhaps, is the energy necessary to tackle the many obstacles inherent to writing… and living a meaningful life.

I continue to review affirmations from my past and how they might support me in the writing life.

When I was teaching middle school long ago, I often pondered the role of fear in attempting something new or challenging. There is a slogan “Feel the fear and do it anyway” that seemed to describe that point in my life, teaching and writing, both of which included a healthy amount of fear. Fear of failure. Fear of embarrassment. Fear of looking incompetent in public. All of which I nailed, dear reader.

I don’t know where I first heard that phrase, so I googled it just now and discovered a book by that title, which I have not read. I also found an article in Psychology Today discussing pitfalls that can accompany embracing this strategy without nuance. So… let’s leave that slogan aside. I admit I did not find it the most inspiring of affirmations. I like the “Do it anyway” part. I’m all for trying new things and taking calculated risks. But focusing on my fear wasn’t always beneficial.

So looking back on it, I will rename this affirmation to “Fear happens.” It’s not great. It’s not always what we want to feel. But it is neither unusual nor insurmountable. Sure, fear happens. As a police officer in a TV show might say, “Move on. Nothing to see here.”

So when I write, perhaps I can just accept that sometimes there is reason to feel fear. Breathe. Then get back to work.

Today again I want to blog about one of the affirmations that helped me in the past. I have to admit that this title is actually a G-language version of the actual affirmation.

It might help to explain that I was at a point of transition in my life, shifting from one attempted career/life path to something new that I hadn’t yet fully identified. I didn’t quite articulate it then, but one source of concern was the awareness that I was not meeting the unstated (but well-advertised) standards of success for an adult. I didn’t have a car, let alone a fancy one (I didn’t want one). I didn’t live in an exciting city (I had, but I left). I didn’t go out for cocktails each night or brunch on the weekends with a group of dynamic, articulate, sparkling friends (I had a small circle of wonderful friends, and sometimes we played cards together). When I told people the jobs I had done as well as what I was considering for the future, I received blank or confused looks. My career/life goals didn’t fit their expectations.

I spent some time reflecting on why I had done what I had done, what I valued and what I didn’t value (cars and TV-viewing are actively harming our planet, imho), and how I had taken risks that led me to new and interesting places. Instead of feeling bad about myself for not fitting into other people’s expectations of success, I started to see what was courageous and ethical about my own choices. So I realized I should tell myself every day, girl, you are a rock star.

I have to admit that I’m a bit uneasy with this affirmation right now. I am still happy with what I have done and the choices I have made, but I also know I don’t like to be the source of anyone else’s envy. Indeed, I am always reluctant to go into any kind of competitive situation with an advantage. But maybe I need to remember that this was not about my telling myself I was better than anyone else. We are all rock stars… we all get to define what rock star status is, and we do not have to accept anyone else’s definition.

If I try to lean into this affirmation to aid me in rekindling my faith in myself as a writer, well, maybe that could work. I am a rock star writer because I am bold enough to spend time writing.

Maybe. It is a struggle right now to imagine writing with confidence. Even worse, it seems to me that when I do so, I generate cliches rather than subtle insights. A lack of confidence helps me interrogate my word choices.

Then again, maybe it’s similar to the mindset of drafting versus the mindset of editing. When I write fresh drafts, I am a rock star. When I am editing, I am a rock star’s manager, rolling my eyes a bit and trying to see what we can salvage.

Either way, I am following my dreams.

Why not embrace the metaphor? I picture myself now standing on a stage, thankfully one of my own creation. I am bathed in the lights, energized by the feeling that this moment could last forever. I am lifted aloft by the words, one after another. When I write, there is nothing else I need.

Rock on.