The writing software I use makes you press a button labeled “quit” whenever you exit a file. I was reading through some chapters of my novel in progress last night, and I felt like I was reading it through some muddy glasses through which everything looked terrible. I started to feel embarrassed for myself (you know that feeling when you watch a comedian onstage, but he’s really not funny? It’s the uncomfortable embarrassment that’s the worst). I could see strings of weak sentences, clumps of imagery that were just trying too hard. And I began to feel really, really discouraged. It was my “What the hell am I thinking?” moment, the one where you wonder if you’re the only person in the world crazy enough to have faith in yourself, or if you should just join the skeptics and not risk the disappointment of having tried but gotten nowhere.

I decided to step away from the computer, and when I went to close the file, there was the option staring me in the face: Quit. And I thought, “Okay, so I’m being challenged, but I won’t go down that easy.” I clicked the button, knowing I’d reopen it the very next day, and took the rest of the evening (and I admit, some of this morning) to mope and feel sorry for myself (it’s a process, after all).

Then I realized the fact that I think parts of my work suck is actually a great thing, because if I can see what’s wrong with it, I can fix it. And sure, the beginnings, which I wrote quite some time ago, aren’t my best, but I can see a progression as I get to the more recent writings, and I feel the work gets stronger. So I’ll have to go back and do some major revisions. That was always my plan anyways. What messed me up was that I looked back and lost my focus that had so clearly been fixed on the end.

I have a post-it stuck to my computer now that says “No one ever said this was going to be easy.” Just because we call ourselves writers doesn’t mean it comes easy to us. It probably comes harder, because we have close to impossible standards and expectations of ourselves. The writing I’m most proud of has been far from easy. It’s been grueling, sentence by sentence, word by word, and it’s given me a great understanding of the expression “it’s like pulling teeth.”

Truthfully I’m kinda glad I’ll be asked to “quit” every time I step away from my novel. In a small way it reminds me that it’s not an option. What keeps you from quitting writing?