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I loved the work when I was writing it, but when I’d come back and read it a few days later and I’d invariably be disappointed. 

Reading it would bring feelings of unease, doubt and misgiving, as if something was wrong. 

Something was! 

This happened virtually every single time I wrote.  Reading my own work was a debilitating and soul-destroying disappointment which constantly shook my confidence and for which I had no ready solution. I rationalized my conflicted and confused emotions by convincing myself that what I had written was “actually very good”  in spite of all my instincts to the contrary.

“Yes, let’s go with that!”

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To accept the truth meant I had a major problem and it was just too intimidating a reality to accept.  So, I invented all kinds of reasons to explain my discomfort.

These “feelings” of discomfort were actually the quiet voice saying, “Try again.”  But instead of listening and accepting what my Voice was trying to tell me –  I would argue:

“I just spent a week working on that scene.  Try again?  After all that work!?  It’s just fine the way it is!”

“Something is missing”, the Voice would murmur silently.

“But, I was SURE it was great when I wrote it, I was CONVINCED. Are you saying  I was wrong?  That I can’t trust my own instincts?  Maybe it’s you I can’t trust! “

I had a lot invested in not listening.  I was having trouble sorting out which feelings were genuine and which were just my own insecurities.

Then the quiet voice would whisper again, “Try another revision. Go deeper”.

“But, I love this scene!”, I whined.

“Keep going”, it responded without emotion.

“How many rewrites do you expect me to do?!”,  I demanded!

The answer would invariably come, slowly, quietly and irrevocably, “Does it matter?” 

OMG”, I protested, “Are you kidding me?”

It wasn’t. 

Instead of seeing this feeling as a messenger, a clue, a gift even – from deep within, I chose to view it as irrational.  But the uncomfortable feeling was quite rational.

If I accepted the truth I could only conclude that the current version of my work was simply not good enough.

I loved the process of writing but apparently not quite enough to do everything in my power to get it right.  I had my stake in the ground and damned if I was going to remove it now!  Not for any irrational Voice! My identity was at stake.

There was no peace

If I wanted a chance to make my dreams come true then “I” was the problem I needed to solve.  The door was open but I was too stubborn to walk through it.  Maybe what I loved was the “idea or writing” but, the actual work involved, well I wasn’t so much in love with that…

In retrospect I think I was doubting myself because I wasn’t being myself.   These were harrowing times.

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It didn’t occur to me that the Voice just wanted the best for me, for what I loved; that it was coming from a place within me I could trust.  I was coming to learn that there are deeper regions and resources than intellect that have the power to guide creative choices, any choice for that matter.  This was a revelation for me.  And I believe this capacity can assist anyone with a dream, if we listen.

Now was the time

There was however, one thing I did understand, that made me look at the Quiet Voice a little differently.  On this piece, Magna Carta, I could not afford to equivocate.

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I had to give it my very best and nothing less.  It started to dawn on me that actually listening to the Quiet Voice might be the way to do my absolute best.  No matter how much work or how many doubts arose.  I had to go wherever it took me, wherever it led…

And lead it did…

I decided if the Quiet Voice was not pleased, or was uneasy for any reason I would listen.  If the feelings were uneasy then I would revise my work, again – and again – and again if I had to until it no longer spoke, until it was satisfied. When that might happen, I had no real idea.

This was the new deal I made with myself and it was one of the most important commitments I have made in this life.

Part 5:  “I Got my Answer” is next,  feel free to share!

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