A friend of mine used to call them “Brain Weasels”. They scuttle around our thoughts saying terribly articulate, logical things about why and how we’re useless; why and how we’re a total disappointment to ourselves, everything and everyone we love. The more rational and articulate they sound, the more confident they sound, the more we believe them. Because, inside our heads with our own thoughts – as with outside our heads with the words of others – confidence sounds like being right.
Those “You should be better/different/other” thoughts fluttered and swarmed, for me, in a way weasels didn’t. Perhaps that’s why I now describe them as “Should Fairies”. An airborne mythical creature instead of one based on real-life furry beasties. I was never much of a fan of flower fairies. They weren’t furry, which made them (as far as seven-year-old me was concerned) a total waste of time compared with Fluppets, Sylvanian Families or Fuzzy Felt. All that flapping about looking skinny and vacant. So much more fun to be had. But I still have the badge my friend made for herself and her friends saying “Shoot the Brain Weasels” (copyright Alice Macklin). That, as much as the delightful alliteration, is another part of why “Shoot the Shoot Fairies” became such a thing in the Writers’ Gym.
Of course there are “shoulds” worth having. Punctuation, for example. The road signs of our created worlds. The visuals that denote the writer cares about their reader enough to do what they can to achieve their shared aim: getting what’s in the writer’s head smoothly into the reader’s as smoothly and apparently effortlessly as only a smooth road makes possible.
But then there are more sinister shoulds. The ones that replace self-esteem, and therefore curiosity, and ultimately creativity. Anxiety loves a “should”. When I have a writing client asking me for a should – this time period or that? Which version of this line is stronger? This plot development or that? – I follow the should backwards. I ask about the idea it came from, the thing it wants to say (Yes, another example of Say The Thing). I don’t leap in with a help-my-coursework-is-due-tomorrow-style answer (unless that is actually the writer’s situation). Coaching takes a deeper route. It asks the writer to clarify their intentions. It goes with them on the journey. Its interest is the whole story. Which is the only meaningful route to a happy (and by happy, I mean authentic) ending.
Come and Write with Us This Week
The Writing Room | 11-1pm Monday 25 November
FREE for everyone on my mailing list (if you’re reading this, that’s you!). No expectations, no readings, just an open chat box and ten minutes’ (totally optional) chat together at the end. Click here.
Riverscribes: Creative Writing | 7-8.30pm Monday 25 November
A lively and supportive creative writing forum where you are invited to share, discuss and develop your work. Author of Your Creative Writing Toolkit and two short story collections, Dr Rachel Knightley shares the tools at the heart of fiction and storytelling. Click here
The Writers’ Gym Podcast | Wednesday 27 November
The current series of The Writers’ Gym airs every Wednesday with me, Emily Inkpen and Chris Gregory. Find us on Spotify, Apple Podcasts or any other podcast platform.
Coffee & Creativity | 1-2.30pm Wednesday 27 November
Quality writing time and quality company! Grab a coffee and have a mid-week chat, a write and then another chat with your fellow creatives. Free for members: type your discount code where indicated. Click here
Writing Room EXTRA | 3-4.30pm Thursday 28 November
Members only: please check your Voxer messages for this link.
You don’t have to be a member to join a Writers’ Gym session. But if you’d like to access our weekly programme for free, and receive 30% off all our other creative workouts, email thewritersgym@rachelknightley.com or download a brochure at writersgym.com.
For PT sessions and creative confidence for life, work and art, email info@rachelknightley.com.