It’s hard to believe a lot of what I write is crap. I have to wade through its awfulness later. I mean loads and loads of crap.

As the below video displays, I’m not a very talented guitar player.

I started playing almost four years ago while a counselor at a summer camp. I learned a few chords and from that could play a few thousand songs. I loved it. But if I took an honest account of my playing abilities I might cease to pick up the guitar at all.

Yesterday my friends were joking about their Inner Critic, whom they had to ignore in order to finish their work. I hadn’t put a name to the feeling I’ve been struggling with, that Inner Critic, which slows my writing progress to a stalemate on the page. Some people might call it writer’s block.

The initial creation moment (and its preceding moments), must banish the Inner Critic at all costs. That’s what I’ve learned. To just fill pages with writing, think less and write more. Overwrite, I tell myself.

I’ll admit, a lot of it is crap. I have to wade through its awfulness later. I mean loads and loads of crap.

But there’s also some good stuff (at least to my standards).

There are times when we must write to write and edit later. Perhaps not all writing purposes benefit from this. But for now, for me, even though I’m cringing.

I’ll let Michael Mayerhofer in “Advice to Writers: Stay Home” conclude:

So, again, here’s my not-so-humble advice: stay home. Don’t call anyone. Don’t text. Don’t update your Facebook status to say what you’re reading, or how many thousands of words you’re going to write today. Just leave your ego in a shoe box, sit down, and read. And write. And if you look down at your first draft and think it’s golden—well, you’re wrong.