Step 9: How to not rely on the safety of pessimism

(this is all part of the One Novel Three-Month challenge. Click here for more info)

I need to reframe my thoughts because right now, this project has come down not to my capabilities but to the effort I need to put into succeeding. You've all heard it: There's so and so many hours in the day. You only have this much willpower. The law of attraction: envision success and you will manifest success. All the symptoms of a hyper-successful, post-event-selection-bias story of every story where someone BELIEVED THEMSELVES into achievement.

Today, I spent 1.5 hours teaching myself how to play this solo board game I bought two months ago. That's one hour point five I didn't write. Also, it was Mage Knight, for anyone who cares, and it's dope.

1.5 hours of not writing- that's 1k+ words out of the maybe 60k I need to write. That's 1/60th of the time, evaporating into a fog of dopamine to appease the burgeoning depression that sits at the foundation of my bipolar disorder.

Yeah, that's one way to look at it.

Now on the flip side, I could say it was self-care, that it was rest, that it was necessary so I could recharge and write later on- which I did, I've output 1.6k today, though some of it became a bit lackluster towards the end.

I am very aware of the power of language, especially the kind we use about ourselves, whether in a declaration to external observers- like a blog, or internally to ourselves. Both as a poet, since I'm obsessed with using the "right" words in any piece, of hitting the right tone and provoking the right thought- no, tone and mood more than anything, because that's when subtle shifts make the biggest difference; both as a poet and as a neurodivergent with bipolar mood disorder, because every word, every thought can send me soaring or crashing, can ruin a day or lift me up into a productive frenzy. I believe in it as a storyteller, that believes the right story can change someone, can make irrevocable memories, can bring joy and tears and laughter and meaning, and I've seen all of this happen, folks, I've seen it all. I respect words.

And there is something very comforting about pessimism.

In many ways, it’s a cheat code. Pessimism is a strategy to deal with uncertainty and unknowable variables. In fact, identifying as a pessimist is also a way of dealing with not knowing what you don't know, a priori, you assume something bad will happen, on balance. You can tack on to being pessimistic the identity of a survivalist, cynic of having some insight into the world that others don't and of framing people as deluded in comparison.

But in the end, it’s a strategy to deal with uncertainty, just like the promise of an afterlife, optimism, copious amounts of substance abuse, and tarot readings.

I think I've relied too much on pessimism. I keep coming back to this background voice in my head that says "this is crazy, this will never work, you're being an idiot."

I keep telling myself, "But others believe in me!" which is lovely and true, or they could be very good actors. At the least, they don't think I'm completely crazy, and I'll take that. How pessimistic eh? Pessimism in me is how I deal with the fact that I almost believe a depressive episode is inevitable, that I can't maintain this wave. I mean I wrote 20k fucking words in 12 days that aren’t complete trash, while maintaining the modicum of a life. A crash is inevitable, my brain says.

Even yesterday I had a beer with my writing, thinking it would Hemmingway it up, and today I nearly went for the whisky. Nearly. Even though alcohol is a depressive because guess what, it's all a self-fucking-fulfilling prophecy. That's when you fuck yourself in an inevitable sort of way, to be technical.

I spend so much time writing that it's easy to fall into the trap of pessimism when I'm not writing; when I'm writing about writing. When I'm thinking about writing. Studies show that if you believe you will fail, on an unconscious level you will do things that make it more likely you will fail. I know it's true because I heard it on a podcast.

What I need to do is rewrite the script. Saying "I will succeed" leaves a bad taste in my mouth because it feels like entitlement. It feels like I'm risking making a fool of myself. Pessimism is safer. It's someone saying- hah, I am but one of the many who will fall, and so many of us do, that it is only humility to admit I am one of them.

Is there a middle ground? Between trying to "manifest success" and predict the future to mindfuck yourself into believing, vs thinking everything is irrevocably fucked? Is there a middle ground between self-belief and self-destruction?

What is the middle path?

I don't know, I'm not used to it. My whole shtick has been to do shit despite being a pessimist, and despite doubting myself, and despite getting scared before I perform, and despite thinking the odds are really slim, because it makes me feel like I've given the middle finger to my own neuroses. Or I believe that things are hard, but I'll make it anyway, maybe- that I can just spin the roulette wheel enough times and the law of large numbers will select for success.

But I think the real, zen, fucking level-100 move is to just live with uncertainty. To admit you do not know, and will never know, and that any illusions to the contrary are illusions, and that optimism is a good strategy if you can convince yourself, and that the paradox of self-belief is that believing in that which is not certain will make it more likely to occur, and perhaps that understanding is enough to believe?

I would rather live with uncertainty. Or write about uncertainty. Or think about uncertainty. Or inject my characters with uncertainty.

I do not know the odds of this game. I just know that pessimism is a trap, and the best I can do is avoid it, like it’s the fucking plague. I know that words are tremendously powerful.

And I believe in The Truth.

That's for another blogpost but The Truth is the source of a lot of truly great writing. The Truth is what I channel in some of my poetry. And in this case, The Truth is that our culture is inundated with a pandemic of pessimism under a shiny veneer of optimism, brought to us by the gods on the tiny screens. Perpetual examples of unattainable goals. The logical, rational conclusion that You Will Not Make It because look how rare it is and how absurd the system that leads to it. How fickle and vapid and fucking who cares about Kate Middleton, like really, who fucking cares, we only care because other people tell us to care- fuck Kate Middleton and fuck the royal family.

Phew. Had to get that one off my chest. It also won't age well.

I don't know about 'writing success' but I do know a thing or two about writing, and let me tell you, in the face of all the horseshit, even my horseshit, writing is your counter-point, your weapon, your voice. You can write for an audience, for the hopes of some kind of outcome, towards some kind of goal, but the fact is, a lot of trash makes it to the top of the pile, and quality is no guarantee of eyeballs.

So fuck that.

Write the hell out of it, not for you, because you're a mere mortal and just as flawed, and holding up the trashpile with your aching arms- write for the writing.

For The Truth.

Write because when you put words onto a screen you are declaring that something is true, even when the thing you are declaring is fictitious. Write because you have something to say, and you can only say it with words on a page, on a screen, not out loud- it's not the same- people will interrupt you. Write to be heard even when the room you stand in is empty.

Because you have something worth saying. A star did not explode so you could learn fuck-all about the quirk that is sentience. You just might not know the right words yet. That is craft.

Pessimism is a trap in the face of all this. It is a barrier and a bugbear.

You don't have to believe that your thoughts can make the future a reality.

You just have to believe that it's worth doing anyway.

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