Permission Slips for Writers

Self-empowerment on a sticky note.

Photo by Alesia Kazantceva on Unsplash

Writing is hard. The images in my head are lackluster on the page. The endless story possibilities paralyze me. The craft itself is layered, complex and, in many cases, a complete mystery.

Intellectually, I’m okay with it. I get that I’m a beginner. I’m in the cold, cavernous Gap, as Ira Glass calls it. If I keep writing, eventually the Gap will get smaller.

Emotionally, I’m a wreck. The longer it takes me to finish my book, the greater my fear that I’ll never finish. I’m afraid I’m too used to the chaos of my stay-at-home mom life to operate with any semblance of professionalism ever again. I’m too attached to the idea of perfect to make something that’s not. I’m too drained by my kids. I’m too dependent on sleep.

All of this is complete crap, and all of it holds me back. These are limiting beliefs at their fullest potential. I recognize this. I know the part of my brain telling me these things is wrong. And yet the power of these thoughts is undeniable.

This is why I write myself permission slips.

I’ve been a Brene Brown devotee for the past six years. Her book, The Gifts of Imperfection, was a game-changer for me. One of the tools I stole from Brene is the concept of permission slips.

You can watch Brene talk about permission slips with Oprah if you are unfamiliar with this concept, but the basic idea is that you are in charge of your own behavior, thoughts, and emotions. Giving yourself a permission slip to act, think or feel a certain way is one way to loosen the grip of your oldest, worst habits.

In order to write an effective permission slip you need a pen, a scrap of paper and a ton of vulnerability. Because if you really want to get down to the core of what’s really holding you back, you have to acknowledge it.

Get in there. Do the digging. See what you find.

Doubt. Perfectionism. Comparison. Envy. All of these are forms of self-sabotage that can wreak havoc on your writing life.

A belief I wrestle with relating to my identity and productivity as a writer is the idea that real writers stay up all night to get their words in.

I’ve never been a night owl. Not even in college. Not when I was an associate at a big law firm and my boss would shrug at me when we had an impossible deadline and say, “Eh, whatever. We’ll just stay ’til midnight.”

Stay ’til MIDNIGHT?!? Staying until midnight was not my thing. Nine, maybe. But midnight? That’s, like, tomorrow.

Years later when I dove headfirst into the writing life, something I saw somewhere (probably Instagram, if I’m being truthful) convinced me that as long as I have a brain that does a hard reset at night, I’ll never finish a book.

I can do one of three things with this belief. I can let it worm its way into my psyche until I’m convinced I’m not a real writer OR I can stay up late to write and be a soulless monster during the hours I spend caring for my children OR I can continue to sleep a full night, but write myself a permission slip to do so without shame.

One day I made a list of the unfounded and negative beliefs I have surrounding my writing practice. This included all the things I felt were holding me back from making progress on my book. My kids. My perfectionism. My pace. My schedule. My guilt.

I came up with mostly obvious, but not always easy to implement, solutions to these problems (e.g., hire a babysitter, sleep without shame, not write every day, quit when an idea isn’t working), wrote them down on sticky notes and hung them above my desk.

These sticky notes give me permission to maintain a writing practice that works for me. The only trick is remembering to look at them. Often.

Will you remember to look at yours?