Dear Writer,
It was some years ago, when I’d heard the phrase “con man” for the gazillionth time, that it first occurred to me to wonder where that term came from. Turns out, it was coined by the New York Herald in 1849 during a report on the trial of William Thompson, who was said to have “tricked men by gaining their confidence.”
He would just go up to people and ask them for their money or their watches to prove that they trusted him, with a promise that he would return it to them the following day. Some people would actually do it, and he would just… walk away with their shit.
The phrases for the swindles and scammers of the 19th century were eventually shortcut to cons, con games, and con men/women. All from the root confidence, which is an idea that stems from unshakeable faith or belief in something, a belief that can be so powerful, you’d give your watch, your car, sometimes your life savings to a person, just because they convinced you they were a safe investment.
And now here I am, on the verge of investing my time, energy, and creativity into myself as I start drafting this new book, and I keep thinking about the value of confidence, how hard it can be to build up, and how easy to lose.
So taking a look at the definitions relevant to this discussion, as laid out by Merriam-Webster, we have:
a feeling or consciousness of one's powers or of reliance on one's circumstances
faith or belief that one will act in a right, proper, or effective way
the quality or state of being certain
Well.
Shit.
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I keep thinking about how I got started writing, by falling ass-backwards into a finished novel, then figuring I’d give trying to find an agent a shot, and the first agent I queried signed me and sold the book within six weeks. I’m not complaining, I’m very grateful it was so easy for me—a classic example of writing the right kind of book at exactly the right time—but my career since has been a series of jumps and starts and stalls and now here I am, thirteen years since I’ve signed a new contract and seven since finishing a new book, and it feels like starting over. I’ve been spending my time during this creative lull healing from severe trauma, teaching writers how to write and writing How Story Works, and now I’m back and ready to go and I just feel so…
What’s the opposite of confidence? Let me look it up.
Yep. That about covers it. I also did not know that “unconfidence” was a word, so that’s something new to tuck away in my noggin.
The thing I’ve been doing every time I start to get tangled up in my own bullshit is to go back to the space where I am incredibly confident; as a writing teacher and workshop leader. What would I tell a student who was coming to me with this kind of concern?
I would say three things.
One, I would say that your job as a creative is to make something, not to make something good. Making something shitty is the actual job; you can make it less shitty once you’ve created the original—to stick to a rather disgusting metaphor, but I’m in, so let’s keep going—turd.
Do you have confidence that you can make a turd?
(I can only hope the answer to that question is a resounding, “Yes.” Because really, anyone can make a metaphorical turd.)
Two, I would say that the goal of the creative experience is to have as much fun as possible while making that turd. So if you establish your goal as “to have as much fun as possible while making what I’m making” and not to “create a world-changing work of art,” your confidence will grow the more you hit your goal of having fun. Don’t think about what’s going to make the best work; think about what’s going to be the most fun to do.
And third, I would say that confidence isn’t about what you know. It’s about what you can believe. Belief isn’t about anything you can prove; as a matter of fact, belief is the exact opposite of what you can prove. It’s just about pure faith, and that makes it scary as hell, and that’s also what makes it so damn powerful.
I’ve done this before. I’ve written novels. My work has been in bookstores and libraries around the world. My name has appeared on the New York Times bestseller list.
But none of that matters. What matters is whether or not I can dive into this process and trust that I will have as much fun as possible finishing a metaphorical turd.
It doesn’t have to be good.
It just has to be done.
I can do that.
I can absolutely fucking do that.
And that’s all I need to know.
Everything,
L
I relate to this! Not the part about being a published author, but about the stumbling block being just getting started on a project, stuck in the idea that it has to be some kind of masterpiece, instead of just finished. It is amazing that I ever get anything done, but I do, usually only against an unforgiving deadline.
Lani, this was wonderful to read!!! I read turd and lol’d. I loved the reframing of what would you tell a student who was coming to you with the same concern and turning it inward. Your students are lucky to have you.
When I’m being particularly hard on myself I say, “Jenovia, what would you tell your best friend right now?”
It works like a charm every single time.