Hello, dear writer,

Is your inner critic cranking up the volume to match those relentless holiday jingles?

You’ll note that I just assume you have an inner critic. Because you do. Every creative person has one, and honestly, they’re so boring. They all say the same things:

• You’re not ready to write this.

• Who are YOU to tell this story?

• This has been done a million times, and your version is worse than most.

• You’re not smart enough.

• Your writing is so boring it could replace melatonin.

• No one wants to read what you have to say.

First, rude!

If someone spoke to me like this at a party, I’d raise my head as if sniffing the air for smoke, and then I’d place a soft hand on their forearm. So sorry to interrupt, but I’m afraid that… oh, dear! Small emergency. I’ll be right back.

Then I’d vanish forever, even if I had to spend the rest of the night diving in and out of coat closets to avoid them.

Second (and this is big): the fact that we ALL hear the same voice means that it is wrong. It is lying. All those books you read and love? The writers heard that same voice and wrote those books anyway. The voice was lying to them.

The voice is lying to you.

The Worst Way to Handle the Voice

Whatever else you do, don’t argue with the voice.

I know, I know, it’s tempting, but when you argue with the Inner Jackass, trust me, YOU WILL LOSE.

In my life, I juggle many things, just like you do. I write, I teach, I cook, I clean, I hang out with friends, I swim, I read, I exercise, I sleep, I worry about whether or not I’m looking at too many kitten videos on Instagram.

The Inner Jackass has just one job: To win this argument with you. 24 hours a day, it’s doing nothing but thinking up its next rebuttal.

Sample argument:

Jackass: You’re not an expert. You’re not qualified. Who do you think you are to write this?

You [feeling slightly prepared]: That’s okay. I might not be an expert, but I have five years of lived experience. I can do this.

JA: Five years? God, that’s cute. Come back with twenty years and a Ph.D. You’re dreaming.

You [panic setting in]: But people tell me I have a unique way of looking at this. I can make a contribution.

JA: Unique? They were just being nice. Honestly, you’re going to send the field backward. Ever think of that? You’ll ruin everything if you keep this up.

See what happened there? The Jackass learned from the argument and got smarter. Its sole mission is keeping you small and safe, coloring inside the lines. It will always outmaneuver you because that's literally its only job.

If you did actually manage to rebut one of its arguments, it’ll come up with a new fear that you never saw coming. Instantly.

The Only Solution

There is an unbeatable secret weapon that’s only three words long. Ready for the magic phrase?

Ignore the voice.

That’s it.

It’s that simple.

The more you argue with the voice, the stronger it gets.

It’s exactly like arguing with a troll online. You’ll never win, and you’ll be too exhausted to write.

But hitting that mental Mute button is your superpower.

Jackass: The words you wrote yesterday are garbage. Dire, unfixable garbage.

You [opening your document]: Okay, scene seventeen. Here we go.

Jackass: YOU SUCK SO MUCH. You’re the worst writer ever! You hear me?

You [finding your place]: What’s going to happen to her when she boards the plane? Maybe she’ll—

Jackass: And you’re ugly! Pathetic! You keep eels under your bed!

You [admiring]: Eels? Love it. What if she’s carrying her pet eel onboard and it gets loose in the cabin? Like snakes on a plane, but slimier. And honestly cuter. Those little eel faces!

Jackass: …

You: Writing.

Ignore it.

Allow the feeling of ick (because it never feels good to hear that voice). You don’t have to fix it or change it or jolly yourself into believing the opposite of what the Jackass says to you. (That’s impossible to do, anyway.)

You just have to ignore it and do some work.

And then do it again the next time.

Over time, your Ignoring muscle will get stronger with use.

With practice, you’ll be able to smile at the Jackass like it’s a six-year-old trick-or-treating in a devil costume. Ah, aren’t you cute. Sorry, I meant scary! So scary, you little cutie-pie. Have a Snickers.

1. Allow the voice to rise.

2. Remember that while it might sound smart, it’s always lying (in a desperate attempt to keep you small and safe).

3. Ignore the voice. Then do a tiny bit of work. Even five minutes a day will change your life.

4. Repeat 1-3 as many times as possible.

The world needs your voice – your real voice, not that lying one trying to keep you small. Hit the Mute button, ignore it, and write on.

Onward,

❤️ Rachael

PS - Want more of this kind of encouragement? I’d love to have you in my 2-hour Write More, Worry Less workshop on January 4th (replay will be sent if you can’t attend live). Make 2025 a year of pressure-free productivity! Click HERE.

PPS - Forward this email on to someone who might want to buy you a writing gift!

PPPS - I was just writing with the Rachael Says Write gang and Monna McDiarmid said that she gave her inner critic a crisp five dollar bill and sent her to the candy store. I love this! Ignore, or send it away to have fun elsewhere; just stop listening and arguing with it!

PPPS - My 90 Day classes will be starting again in March, and they always sell out. I’ll be opening the doors in February to register, but if you’d like early registration access, just fill out this form here, and you’ll get notified 24 hours before anyone else.