Maybe part of the reason I find it so hard to write my thesis (but not anything else like blog comments or twitter posts or writing for myself) is this whole performance anxiety thing.

I don’t have a large audience, but holy crap is it important to me!

I figure there will be just a handful of people reading my thesis (my advisor, the judging committee, my husband, a few friends, my mom and dad), but every one of them really wants to know what I’ve been doing in school for so long. So, of course, I want this thing to be slathered in awesomesauce.

Consequently, each paragraph takes hours to write, and feels like pulling teeth, despite the fact that I profess to love writing. I’m not very good at letting the first draft be awful, either, maybe because I’m worried that my advisor will ask to see what I’ve done at any time.

What I need is to write this damn thing for myself, in my own voice, as if I’m explaining to myself what’s going on. If only it was as easy to do as it is to say…

@Stacey – Taylor mentioned last week that she actually separates types of writing to motivate herself. “Okay, this is the kind of writing I really want to do; this is bread-and-butter writing. Let’s do bread and butter first, then we can get to what I really want.” Bribes herself, she does.

@Amy – A lot of people tell me to just write whatever I want. That would be about akin to buying tickets to their favorite performer and him deciding to play the harp instead of the guitar. So, you have to find the middle balance between that – and enjoy it!

@Runbei – Good thoughts, and thanks for that. I think many people who haven’t tried blogging as a career choice often believe that it’s as simple as how you mentioned – several drafts, hard work, honing the craft. I wish it were, because I’d be rich by now Unfortunately, blogging is the racing derby of the horse world. Fast, sweaty, hard and full of people clamoring for more. Taking the time to hone a craft is a luxury we often can’t afford.

@Maria – What the hell you’re doing is seeing how far you can take it, just because you can and because you have the chance. Yeah? That sounds way cooler and funner to me than anything else. Enjoy it!

@Tyler – When I had a conversation with Kevin Parent (famous Quebec musician), he said that he often pays more attention to the awkward moment and looks for it. That awkward moment becomes something human that people relate to and it creates a bond.

@Tobias – Exactly. There’s strategy, tactics and planning, but when you get down on the battlefield, you have to remember that there’s a lot more that comes from deep within. You need to find that courage, bravery, and passion – and then start yellin’!

@Dave – I’ve busted my butt over some posts that I thought were friggin’ awesome – they barely got a handful of comments. I wrote others in 15 minutes and tossed them up; the crowds went wild. There’s no way I can predict accurately what’ll happen with any post I write. (Which is probably why I don’t break my head over every single one of them…)

@Alan – You’re not unique nor alone. Just because most people don’t talk about their worries or issues doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Assume they do, assume someone’s been where you are – and remember they made it through. You will too!

Now go dig up that piece and revisit it. 1) for closure, and 2) because you cared enough to start writing it in the first place.

And by the time I thought I was nearly done, I thought the article sucked. Had, in fact, gone TOO far in sensationalism. And that was the first time I’d ever felt that way.

I ended up scrapping the article because by then, reading it back to myself I felt like it was almost all hype and almost no substance. Ended up in a vortex of confusion for days after that, unable to write at all, let alone even consider rewriting on the topic of the original article.

Ultimately I didn’t revisit it. Instead, I let it die an excruciatingly painful death within my own mind. And I felt guilty. Both for having gone that route and for having sent out a bunch of teaser snippets. As if I had abused my relationship with my audience. Which led to me writing an actual apology article.

It was at that point when I made the commitment to get back to honoring the process and my readers.

The fact that your article hit a nerve with me actually helped because it let me know that I’m not unique when it comes to this stuff. And that there’s hope for me as well…

From experience, the amount of discrete effort going into a piece has almost no correlation with it’s audience acceptance.

Which is why I sweat over every single article.

Because the sweat counts in the long term.

Performance anxiety… sometimes, not too often.

And even though it can be a considerably-more-than-full-time job trying to learn to do this ‘properly’, strategically, with a chance of finding success and recognition and all that good stuff which we’re all after (if not, why are you here?) – I think it is absolutely worth keeping a place for what I would term ‘Joyful Creativity’ – not strategic, not aimed at acheiving a particular result, solving a problem or providing a benefit or overcoming an objection, just creating because it Feels Good.

Thanks for reminding me of that today…

I also get major performance anxiety when it comes to writing great songs. Writing music is such a personal endeavor, but it has to really speak to your audience as well.

I guess what I take from this is that, even though your audience expects awesome content, they also expect an extreme authenticity. Being authentic is what makes your content awesome and that’s what they really want.

I’ve always written for myself, and the words just flow and ideas come forth.

But of late, I’ve been writing for my blog (with a growing readership) and I’ve been asked to write for magazines. All of sudden, the words aren’t coming and I’m questioning what the hell I’m doing.

The one thing that gives me solace is knowing that I’m not the only one this happens to. So I suppose it’s just normal, and something to just deal with.

Thanks for sharing your insecurities. It’s helped me!

Similarly, in my blog I’m delighted when I have a great idea and absolutely undismayed if the first draft(s) come out like dog vomit. I mean, I absolutely don’t care. Why? Because I’ve been a full-time writer for 30-plus years, and I know how writing ‘works.”

To expect to be brilliant first shot out of the box is hubris, plain and simple. Writing is a craft; expectations of sudden, divine illumination are vacuous. We attract inspiration by the energy we put out. If we were cabinet makers, would we expect our work to come to us suddenly, as if dropped from a cloud? Hardly.

Bloggers can learn a lot from people who’ve spent years cranking out words for a living. The key is to develop a sense for good ideas, and an awareness of quality. The latter, we can acquire by reading good writing.

The rest is just plain work – energy expended over draft after draft after draft. P.G. Wodehouse, the great British humorist, made his writing look effortless; but other writers know better – Isaac Asimov and others considered Wodehouse the best writer of the 20th century. Wodehouse was an amazingly hard worker. There is no other way. There is no writer’s block, only a dearth of ideas and energy.