Talking to Myself is the Sanest Thing I Can Do
Tap your wise inner voice to help you stay creatively vibrant
I’m currently running a thought experiment—spending time in the lab so you don’t have to—and happily sharing results.
Specifically, I’ve conjured a private voice to help me prepare for a difficult creative patch that is coming up.
This voice (in my head, of course) essentially augments my typical interior monologue by mimicking a wise and sympathetic companion. We don’t converse constantly (that would drive me crazy). Rather, these conversations—featuring questions and answers, even brainstorming—are only held during quiet, private moments when I deliberately want to focus on the issue at hand.
And the issue is: This spring and summer, I expect to receive rejections on at least four key creative projects, quite possibly more, into which I’ve poured a lot of time and energy.
And you say: Oh, don’t be such an Eeyore! Think positively!
That’s nice, but naïve. When you pursue fairly big wins in a hyper-competitive field, you need to expect to lose; it’s a matter of odds, not merely talent. That doesn’t mean you don’t try. It just means you should brace for a realistic outcome.
That said, when the universe sends you a series of “no’s” in fairly rapid succession, you tend to conclude that you are an epic failure. The evidence doesn’t lie, you believe.
But that’s an obvious line of thinking and I’m tired of succumbing to what’s obvious when, with a bit more forethought and effort, I can perhaps take better care of my feelings and my emotional needs generally.
I can live to fight another day, rather than curl up and die, defeated.
Imagine crossing a busy street without looking both ways first. You wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t thoughtlessly expose yourself to physical peril. You would take sensible precautions.
What I’m trying to do with this thought experiment is precisely that: to take precautions against a potentially harmful (or at least deeply discouraging) series of situations.
Take I
My first conversation, held late at night, proved more beneficial than expected. Essentially, I told myself that bad outcomes were likely, and asked myself to sit with that—to let it sink in and just feel it. I posed this partly as a question and answer:
Q: What’s the worst that can happen?
A: Every single one of these projects is rejected, leaving me with far fewer wins than I’d hoped.
When I awoke in the morning, I felt lighter, less agonized, emptied of the “draggy” feeling I get when I’m awaiting bad news. I’d faced it; really faced it, rather than merely dreading it. I said the hard part out loud, albeit, in my head.
Take II
I wanted to avoid repeating the original contours of the first inner conversation. So I pushed past the first round of reassurances—where I told myself that simply by acknowledging the possibility of some big fails, I was prepping my psyche to soldier on with minimal damage.
What action steps could I take as these rejections roll in? In other words, what could I literally do with my time and energy while this series of events unfolds?
(Again: These are all questions posed to myself, in a quiet space, where I allow uncensored conversation to flow.)
My voice came back with several suggestions related to both action and attitude (which is a prelude to action). (Take that, ChatGPT!)
1. Focus on what is happening, not on what’s been denied.
I’ve got a long to-do list for marketing the forthcoming release of Wrangling the Doubt Monster. This is supposed to be fun! Why spoil a good thing simply because another thing didn’t happen?
2. Recognize the wisdom in the saying, “When one door closes, another opens.”
The death of one opportunity does not signal the death of all opportunities. And my personal history shows that being told “no” on many occasions didn’t preclude other chances to learn, grow, succeed, and even be well-paid.
3. The creative life entails pain.
Artists aren’t usually happy-go-lucky to begin with. The uncertainties of making something from nothing, coupled with the uncertainties of how one’s art is perceived and judged, are recipes for emotional pain and distress. This goes with the territory and you either learn to accept it…or walk away from taking risks that inflict more emotional pain than you care to handle. I have to decide I’m here for it…all of it!
4. Take a philosophical attitude: Everything has a reason and a season.
I can’t bend the world to my wishes. I can’t force an agent or publisher to fall in love with my book or a conference organizer to pick my workshop. Remember that circumstances (and tastes and gatekeepers) change over time, as will my reputation, experience, and position in various marketplaces. So if not now…maybe later.
So, the experiment continues. Based on the results of these preliminary interior conversations, I’m committed to adopting this as a lifelong practice. I could not have articulated the ideas and self-soothing strategies in this column were it not for these conversations.
If you’re intentional about this—really dwelling on the silent inner dialogue—it can operate on you the way aspirin does on pain: not a cure for underlying ailments, but a way to lessen emotional discomfort and relieve some forms of anxiety.
And of course, this is a recipe for managing self-doubt.
So talk to yourself, as often and honestly as you can. And truly listen to what your inner voice is telling you. It knows a lot that’s for your own good.
I love this piece! I must admit, sometimes I even let my inner voice speak out loud (but only when I'm alone). It's usually kind and perceptive, like yours, unlike other inner voices which tend to jump on my head. You've given such a wonderful insight into how to tap into this voice regularly. Thank you for your lab - I will be using the results of your experiments
The inner voice has lost some of its previous cachet from the days on "men's groups" etc. But it is indeed a staunch ally worthy of consultation-- thanks for the reminder.