Before putting together this post, I polled my community to ask a simple question: What's the biggest writing fear that keeps you from putting yourself or your work out there? Fear comes up time and time again in the writer’s life, from beginning writers to seasoned authors. We all have to contend with the inner critic, and I’ve come to believe that fear is simply a companion to the writer’s life, which means must learn how to work with it, not against it.

5 Biggest Writing Fears

The responses to this question were so true and heartfelt, and a real reflection of the daily anxieties we all feel about navigating our creative lives. In this post I’m sharing five responses I received, along with my thoughts for mindfully approaching them.

Fear #1: My biggest fear is that I'm not unique or original. It's all been done before, done better. And when I muster my confidence, I still feel like an imposter inside.

Imposter syndrome is so real for writers. In part, this ties into the idea of permission—sometimes we’re waiting for someone else to say yes, you can do this, but that permission is already inside of us, we just need to grant it to ourselves. And when it comes to not feeling unique or original, I’ve heard others say this before and believe it to be true that no one else has the exact same combination of interests, voice, life experience, etcetera. Your point of view, is unique. So although broader themes have been discussed by other writers, or even similar experiences (like coping with the death of a parent, or choosing to go back to school in your forties, or raising kids with a certain parenting style) you still offer something special within that topic because again, your life experience has only been lived by you. 

It actually sounds a little bit corny, right? That we’re all unique and have something to offer, but it’s true! One of the main differences though, is whether or not we act on it. Not everyone will choose to write and share their story. So if you feel led to do it, you can really stand in confidence that not only do you have something to say, but most likely, your words and your story, will impact someone else in a positive way. 

And on the imposter front, I recently finished reading a memoir called Save Me the Plums by Ruth Reichl, who was the editor in chief of Gourmet magazine for 10 years, and I was really interested to learn how unqualified she felt for the job. She was working as the New York Times restaurant critic, but knew basically nothing about the magazine world and I so appreciated her honesty in explaining all the pitfalls she had in the early days, and all the doubts she faced. But she kept at it and evolved and grew, and it reminded me that we all feel like imposters some of the time. I think it’s pretty normal, but the question is, How will we move through the resistance so we can show up and do the work we’re meant to do? 

Fear #2: That the audience will think aspects of the story are pulled from real life, when they’re really not. And knowing absolutely anyone in the country could read it.

My first thought: we can’t control what people think. It’s entirely possible that someone reading—maybe they know you personally, or maybe they don’t—will wonder about that. Does it matter? Actually play this out in your mind. What if someone does, in fact, think part of your story was pulled from real life? What are the outcomes there? Does it actually affect you in any way? 

This is also a good time to mention the idea of setting the work free. I don’t know about you but I often feel a true detachment, physically and emotionally, once something is finished. I know I wrote it and it’s mine, but in some ways, it doesn’t belong to me anymore. In some ways, there’s a bit of comfort in this release, that you’ve done your part, you’ve written the best story you can, and you’ve controlled what you can control. 

And as far as knowing anyone in the country could read your story. Well, that’s also a possibility. It’s also thrilling though, right? The idea that all these people, who you don’t know, could be reached by your message. I remember the night before my first book was published, I was on Instagram and a little bookstore in Maine—which at the time was clear across the country from where I lived—posted a photo of my book. It was in a stack of new titles set to release that week and I sort of had that feeling of, oh my gosh, people are actually going to *read* this book, and practically in the same breath, I also thought, how amazing that my book, that I wrote in my kitchen in Los Angeles, might end up in the hands of someone who lives 3,000 miles away. Someone I’ve never met. Someone who isn’t already on my newsletter and knows who I am. 

It can definitely be scary to have your story out there, I absolutely understand that. But in some ways, there’s more magic in the whole process than fear, which is pretty reassuring if you ask me. 

Fear #3: I think my biggest fear and roadblock to putting myself/work out there is being harshly judged.

I’ve felt this way a lot. Because once your work is out there, once you share something, there’s absolutely a risk of someone disagreeing, or not appreciating your work, or judging you in some way big or small for it, right? 

Whenever I find myself being held back by this kind of fear, I remember how I feel when I read someone else’s work. Especially when I’m in the middle of reading a memoir that’s honest and revealing and difficult and heartfelt. I’m always grateful. I tend to have a moment at some point during the reading process where I just stop for a minute and think, I’m so glad this person sat down at their desk day after day. I’m so glad they were willing to share.

Will everyone have that reaction to your work? I doubt it. But I think more people will than not. It’s a gift to share your story with someone else, to help a reader feel something, understand something, reorient themselves back to something in their own life that your book might have unearthed. And for those people who may judge harshly, or leave bad reviews, you can ask the same question I offered earlier which is: Does it matter? Does their judgement actually have something to do with you, or is a reflection of something going on in their own life, that you might never know? Again, play it out. What’s the worst case scenario? Go down that road, talk it through with someone, and then see how you feel, if you’re still holding onto those fears deeply, or if it feels OK, maybe safe even.

The other thing you can do here, which is a suggestion I’ve heard many writers share over the years, is you can pretend no one will read it. That’s really important at the beginning, when your confidence might already be naturally lower, to just remove readers from the process entirely so you can get on with a draft and make some progress. 

Fear #4: I think my biggest fear is usually that the work isn't yet "perfect," and if I just edit it for a little longer or refine it a little more, I'll feel better about sending it out into the world. It probably boils down to the fear of rejection and is motivated by an impossible standard that I often set for myself.

I love how this fear sort of offered its own solution here. On the one hand, we’re talking about perfectionism, which it turns out, surprise surprise, is fueled by impossible standards which are ultimately fueled by fear. So it’s a matter of breaking down those walls.

I know from my own experience, when I go back to read things I’ve written years ago, and I’ll just take my first book as an example—there are certainly small things I might change if I had the opportunity. Nothing major, a word here or there. There’s always something we can pick at. But mostly, I recognize that the book was created and encapsulated, really, in a specific time and place that I can never return to. The work is the best version of itself, that came out who I was at that time, and it’s almost like a time capsule. 

So something I would caution against here is trying to polish something too much. If you’re in the space of being fueled by that perfectionism, it’s easy to get caught up in thinking about that specific piece all the time. That thing that needs to be perfect before you send it out. But I wonder about what’s waiting in the wings? What stories or poems or books or thoughts are suppressed because you haven’t yet moved on from whatever it is you’re working on now? So just some food for thought there. Letting go of work, when it’s done, and good enough, and we’ve taken it as far as we can. Moving on is what ultimately leads us to the next idea, and I think it’s important that we get there.

Fear #5: That the only person interested in what I have to say is me. That’s tied to more than fear. It’s like a black hole I’ve fallen into.

Fear is usually about resistance. So that might be where I start. With this particular fear, I don’t know the context. I don’t the history of why this person feels this way, which experiences she’s had that left a negative impression, or what she’s holding on to. So I can only speak in general terms here. 

And whenever I’m thinking about fear, there are two ideas I often return to. The first is in the book Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert says, where she essentially recommends we should say hello to our fears and just welcome them into the process. And Steven Pressfield has a quote about how the closer we are to pursuing something that’s part of our soul’s evolution, the more resistance we’ll feel. Fear can sometimes be a marker, simply proving that I’m moving in the right direction. 

One way to counteract this fear—and again, I don’t know all the circumstances here—is to test that theory. If you think you’re the only person interested in what you have to say, let’s see about that. Publish an essay and see what kinds of comments you get. Share links in online groups. Submit your story to journals. Or not even a polished work, just start talking about whatever topic it is you’re unsure about and see if there are other people who gather around it. 

I’m pretty certain that whatever story you have, whatever topic it falls under, there are people out there who will be interested, but you might need to start small, give your fear some crumbs, you know? And eventually, over time, you might start to believe the truth that your story is worth sharing, and there are readers who need to hear your message.