Critic
As a writer, your inner critic is the one you truly need to
silence. And yes, by silence I do mean in the manner of a mobster.
You must slide your hands around her throat and squeeze
until she ceases thrashing.
She will of course reanimate, as she is an undead
monstrosity that lacks the need for oxygen, sustenance, or internet
connectivity.
She feeds on the juices of your crushed spirit.
So be resolved in your requirement to silence her again and
again. Flex your fingers and exercise your grip strength with a stress ball,
because you will need to perform murder upon her many, many times.
She, this internal critic, is far more destructive than any external
critic.
External critics are plentiful and hovering, ready to pounce.
At the ready with a pitcher of cold water for your smoldering dream.
Not those that you seek out, humbly, for advice. Not those precious
critics that you respect and who care about you and/or your work. Their
constructive criticism is a valuable resource. The advice may be sometimes hard
to hear, but it is medicine for the ailing parts of your work.
It is the other external critics. Those who struggle not to roll
their eyes when told you are a writer, or those who let their eyes glaze over
when you mention writing. They just do not understand the joy of writing, or
even the joy of reading, in some cases. They are not the enemy.
Their lack of belief that you can do this thankless, lonely
work can be tuned out, although admittedly with supreme effort.
Find a quiet place, forget the nattering of the humans,
ignore the siren call of the internet and you can escape them all.
The internal critic is the one, true enemy. She cannot be
tuned out, and follows you everywhere and anywhere you steal away to write.
Each world you build, plotline you craft and character you breath life into…
she is there, in the shadows, whispering negative thoughts and planting seedlings
of doubt.
So, murder it is.
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