Self-Doubt

My internal life as a writer has been a constant battle with the small, whispering voice (well, sometimes it shouts) that tells me I can't do it. This time, the voice taunts me, you will fall flat on your face. Every single piece of writing I have ever completed – whether a novel, a memoir, an essay, short story or review – has begun as a wrestling match between hopelessness and something else, some other quality that all writers, if they are to keep going, must possess. Call it stubbornness, stamina, a take-no-prisoners determination, but a writer at work reminds me of nothing so much as a terrier with a bone: gnawing, biting, chewing, until finally there is nothing left to do but fall away.

DANI SHAPIRO