The reason I hate writing

on the daunting first post and how fear of failure comes into play

Ok, I am doing it, I am typing the first words on my uncool Acer laptop after probably at least six years of absence. But first, let me take you back to the mid to late 90’s where it all started.

My teacher in elementary school had given the class the assignment to write a little story. Probably to practice your handwriting and let the creativity flow or something around that sentiment. Now, since I was around the age of 7 it’s hard to remember exactly what I wrote, what I do remember is the response to it. I gave the short story to my mother to read it over. Once she was finished and I was nervously waiting for her feedback she said: ‘‘you didn’t write this, did you?’’ She gave it to my older sister who had the same reaction to it.

This seemed like the highest form of praise to me. If they didn’t believe I wrote it, then it must have been good! this was it! You know, the thing people find they’re good at, love doing, and make it their goal in life to become professional at it. I was going to become a writer. I got myself a fluffy pink diary and wrote silly things such as ‘boys are stupid’ and, I LOVE (insert name) 4EVERRR, in it.

It is crucial to know something about me before I continue. Recognition, what people think of me, validation, however you want to call the dependency on approval from the outside, is extremely important to me. And yes, I know that is slightly narcissistic and no, I don’t want it to be of such significance in my life. However, (it gets a little bit complex here) when people actually do say I am good at something, I instantly downplay it. The ‘compliment’ my mom gave me on my writing didn’t make me believe I was actually good at it, quite the contrary. But if a parent gives you validation for something you did ‘right’, you want more of that. Think of it as doing a trick for a cookie, pleasing for praise. Atta girl.

Fast forward to 2013, now 22 years old. After countless diaries, I discovered blogging. I wanted to become the next Carrie Bradshaw. I started a blog enthusiastically (a lot like this one) and enjoyed it for approximately 4 years. Not that I had many readers (aside from Facebook followers, a.k.a my friends, people I knew) but it was a creative outlet. Besides creating a blog, I also created an imaginary expectation from the readers. The expectation wasn’t at all coming from the outside, nobody actually cared other than some people just asking out of curiosity ‘how is your blog going’. It was purely the weight I put on myself by thinking I needed to do more, to be more. This self inflicted stress, anxiety, and fear of failure cornered me into quitting.

back to 2024.

I created this Substack account a month ago. It took me six years to write publish again. And honestly it’s not easy. I hate to whine about the fact that it’s scary to put yourself out there because it’s not exactly original. But catching up on ‘Substacks’ for a month now, reading all the essay’s of the GOAT writers, and intimidatingly good bloggers make me want to crawl in a dark corner and never open my laptop again. (Oh hi expectations, you’re back!)

You see, this intense fear of not being good enough and thus, failing, robbed me of a thing I really enjoy doing. Actually it messed with more than just quitting writing. I tried many things but never stuck with them. I’ve started at least three degrees, I became a relationship coach, I’ve owned a secondhand clothing business, I did a home study to become a naturopath etc, etc. I can’t even tell you how many Instagram accounts I currently own that are just floating around in the ether, which I cannot access anymore since I forgot all the quirky usernames I came up with.

The mantra ‘you are not good enough’ is haunting me like that song by Harry Styles, Watermelon Sugar (high). You just can’t get rid of it once it’s in your head. And so we come to the conclusion of this first daunting and haunting post.

Of course I don’t hate writing, the title is just clickbait. I frickin LOVE writing. What I hate is the self-doubt that comes with it, I hate comparing myself to other writers, I hate giving up on it out of fear that no one cares. Most of all I hate that writing is the thing that makes me the most vulnerable because it’s so dear to me.

However, I did it. I wrote the first post. All I have to do now is keep going, turn off that song, and write.

Love,

Jasmine

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