just post the thing
when perfectionism turns into self-censorship
I write this as I have a whopping twenty-two drafts on my Substack dashboard. Some are just the title + subtitle, some have a bullet point outline, some have a single paragraph, some have hundreds or thousands of words.
And yet, here I am… starting yet another one.
I’m very self-aware, too much so, it seems. I am very conscious of the words I’m using, the order I’m using them, how many I’m using, which ones I’m using too much and not enough. And I’m very aware, perhaps too aware, of how people might interpret me.
This is, in part, why I still get nervous posting on Instagram, even if I’ve done it dozens of times. Why I get even more nervous posting on Substack, a platform that’s more based on words than it is on visuals. Why I have so, so many ideas that remain stuck in the drafts.
I nitpick every sentence, every word choice, to make sure it sounds exactly right. To ensure that my writing is not only conversational, but also elegant and polished. I want it to be readable, digestible, structured logically. And there’s the language itself, but there’s also the tone and the content.
I worry if I’m on my soapbox, if I sound preachy, if I’m coming off as annoying, if my thoughts aren’t as deep as I think they are, if my writing is clunky and juvenile. What if someone is scrunching their nose behind their glowing phone screen? What if they scroll past without actually reading? What if they miss my point? What if they (*gasp*) disagree with me? (So much overthinking in my pretty little head.)
Sharing your thoughts, as trivial as they might be, can feel raw. Because it feels like revealing something huge, and opening yourself up to opinions, good and bad. If someone criticizes you, or reacts negatively, it feels personal. Like maybe it’s a stain on you, or your character, or your values.
I have a tendency to imagine the worst outcomes. At the end of the day, it’s not even entirely fear—it’s also a deep longing. I want people to like my work, to engage with it, and to hopefully get something out of the reading experience, whether it’s learning something new, feeling seen, or just being entertained. I want people to understand. I want it so much that the possibility of any other response intimidates me. It makes hold back from sharing, because of all the what ifs.
But there are also good ifs. Like if someone loves it so much they save it so they can read it again. Or if their favorite line is the one I’m most proud of. Or if it makes them reflect on their own experiences. Or if they read it and think “this made me feel seen.” Doesn’t that outweigh the bad parts?
So, yeah, sharing is scary. Maybe it always will be. But denying yourself of even the chance of bad deprives you of the good too. Post the thing—don’t silence yourself because you’re too scared to be heard beyond a whisper.
And, hey, where’s the fun in playing the quiet game anyway?
Song of the day: “Sophia” by Mack Keane
i have twenty-three drafts and needed to read this badly...working on editing and posting as many of them as i can in the upcoming days. thank you for sharing your words!
Before I started my Substack I was very afraid to share my stories. Now I'm glad I overcame that fear. I feel so much better when I stop overthinking it because now I realize that I can help a lot of people through my stories.