The Ego Cycle

One of my biggest handicaps for working in a creative field is that I don't quite have the ego for it. Let's face it, artists are narcissists. When I'm thinking logically (which isn't often), I'm pretty convinced that I'm a good writer, but remembering that beyond a few moments is tricky. I've noticed that it's always the same cycle whenever I embark on a new project.

While I'm planning it and just starting out I get extremely excited and optimistic. I'm fixated on the thought that this is The Idea, the thing that'll get me noticed and published and famous and rich. It's the best idea I've ever thought of! It's going to be great! Amazing! Spectacular! It'll get me on the cover of New York Magazine!


But then, as I start working on it (and therefore remembering that writing requires work) I get down on myself. I'll think, "who am I to think that I'm anyone worth writing? Who in their right minds would ever want to read this crap? This is awful! Why would anyone care about what I have to say?" This last question is particularly strong in my mind since I write memoir. I'm just some nobody, some young nobody. Who would want to read my writing outside of my friends and family?

If I get over this bump (and, sometimes, I don't) I'll truck along for a little bit more out of duty than passion. Then, slowly but surely, I'll get excited about it again. I'll remember why I loved the idea in the first place and the conviction is renewed.

And repeat. It never ends. I've come to notice that this exact cycle exists as a freelancer, too. (It probably exists for every profession, but for now I'm going to pretend it's a unique problem to writers.) If I get a yes or two, or a promising lead, or even an exciting no (Bon Appetit may not have had room for any more freelancers, but they wrote me a personalized letter to tell me so!) then I'm all confidence. I pride myself on the fact that I'm doing the seemingly unthinkable: supporting myself as a writer straight out of college. I'm able to remind myself that it was naive to expect a position at a magazine by graduation, and that I'm doing all of the right steps to be able to get there soon. I take note of all my little successes instead of focusing on the big picture where I'm falling a little short.

But then, the days will pass. I won't hear anything from any of the dozens of jobs I applied to that I truly thought I'd be perfect for. I get worn down from the constant competition, the importance of luck and connections to get anywhere in this industry (of which I have little), the endless disappointments and frustrations with my gigs and lack thereof, and of course my increasingly pitiful paychecks. I start to think that I'll never make it, that I'm bound to completely fail and have to move out of the apartment that I love in the city that I love back to living at my dad's house upstate (which literally drove me crazy the last time I lived there for more than two weeks). It makes me want to give up and assume the fetal position in bed forever.

One of the most difficult parts about freelancing is getting over that state of mind. Even when it seems completely hopeless, you have to get out your computer and keep trying. Keep searching those ads, keep applying to jobs, keep pitching articles. Read your old blog posts, articles and stories to remind yourself that you can do it. (Even reread your acceptance emails to remind yourself that others think you can do it too.) Then, get the hell out of the house and go to events, museums, parties, restaurants, flea markets. You're not going to come up with any new ideas by staring at the same wall you've been staring at for six straight hours. Sooner or later, you'll get some sort of validation to encourage you to keep at it again. Trust me, you'll be back to thinking you're awesome in no time.