Into the Dark Woods: How Self Love Guides Your Creativity

In the strange lands of making something new, self love is a flashlight in the dark.

I often describe writing a novel as a marathon, something that simply takes a really long time.

It’s true. And yet, it doesn’t quite cover it.

As creative people, we often romanticize the sudden inspiration. The bolt of lightning, the feverish work that ensues, and the “perfect” thing that supposedly comes out as a result.

Sometimes it happens this way. Sometimes it doesn’t.

As I continue to work on the first draft of my novel, Knuckles and Braeburn: the Case of the Cursed Bonanza, I can say that writing a novel is a lot more than a marathon. In fact, I find that writing something at length is to be thrown into a world of unknowns, to enter the dark, thorny woods of your mind, and to somehow find your own path into light.

It means you won’t know all the answers right away. You might not know where you’re even going at all. You might stumble and fall; you might question yourself and your sanity, or why you’re even doing this in the first place.

You will make mistakes, and that’s okay. In fact, it’s part of the process.

“To write something at length is to be thrown into a world of unknowns, to enter the dark, thorny woods of your mind, and to somehow find your own path into light.”

So, yes, the creative process is full of uncertainty. But while any creative endeavor is full of mysteries and misdirections, it’s also a prime opportunity to practice self love.

Recently, I came across a quote from my 12-Step literature that really resonated with me:

“...we learn to stop mid-sentence if we put ourselves down or criticize our thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. We reframe stumbles as opportunities to learn or grow emotionally. Setting limits with the inner critic this way is an act of love.”

A powerful message. After all: what invites that inner critic more than sitting down and working on that novel or memoir or other creative project? Especially if you’ve shelved it out of fear?

It may seem daunting. But–aha!—there’s a hidden beauty in this, as well:

The minute you decide to work on your project is the minute you’ve decided to trust yourself.

Yes! It’s the minute you say, “I’m going to give this a go. I might not know all the answers. I might have no idea what I’m doing. But I’m deciding to trust myself enough to try, to endure the uncertainty, to take whatever step forward I’m about to take, however small. I’m going to allow myself to try–and even struggle!–and ultimately find my own path forward.”

Even as I write this now, I recall moments of writing Knuckles and Braeburn where I felt immense pride over my work, and others where I’ve internally scolded myself. I’d say things like “this is trite and stupid and bad,” and “I’m going to screw this all up,” or “why am I even doing this? Does the world even need another spooky detective story?” (Jeez. This inner critic guy is not fun!)

Saying those kinds of things to myself really hurts. It’s almost like an act of psychic self-injury. I’m hurting myself when I say those things.

But then I forgive myself, step back, and go, “It’s okay. Doubt is normal, and writing a book is hard. You’re doing great. Just keep going.”

Self talk like that is much better. It’s like clicking on a flashlight in the dark of the woods. Suddenly, I can see—maybe not everything, but enough to give me a nudge forward.

There will be times when we feel self doubt, when we feel lost, and like we don’t know which way is forward. But those simple acts of self love and reassurance give us the courage to take that next step. And with time, we find our path.