The creative gap describes the difference between what you think you’re capable of writing and what you wrote. When you read an old article and hate it, don’t beat yourself too much. It just means that you’re growing.

Hating your writing is a sign of growth

When you feel upset about your writing, grab a book, devour some pages, then write some. If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot.

The creative gap drives you to improve

No one ever achieved something by constantly yelling, "you're the best writer out there!" In front of a mirror. It's healthier to tell yourself, "look. Right now, you're not where you want to be as a writer. To get there, you gotta be humble, seek feedback, and break a sweat or twenty-two."

It’s better to underestimate yourself than to be delusional

It's not up to you, creator, to decide the value of your creation. It's the audience that gives value to creative work. If someone takes the time to open the comment section and compose a short admirative text, embrace it. And the next time you hesitate to publish a text you hate, remember that someone else may love it.

Other people will love your work, and that matters more

<figure><img alt="Young man with glasses making a grimace." src="https://miro.medium.com/max/500/1*Jkp9Fa31PX2mkEv4uIGOU" width="680" height="513"><figcaption class="ic id cz cx cy ie if ce b ga cg fi" data-selectable-paragraph="" dir="ltr">Photo by <a href="https://www.pexels.com/@olly?utm_content=attributionCopyText&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_source=pexels" class="ck ig" rel="noopener nofollow" dir="ltr">Andrea Piacquadio</a> from <a href="https://www.pexels.com/photo/man-in-blue-crew-neck-shirt-wearing-black-framed-eyeglasses-3907436/?utm_content=attributionCopyText&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_source=pexels" class="ck ig" rel="noopener nofollow" dir="ltr">Pexels</a></figcaption></figure>The other day, I was scrolling through Twitter when a question froze me. “Who else smiles when reading their writing?” The lady wrote. My first thought was, “Not me madam, not me. I cringe when I read my stuff.”She said my answer made her sad and hoped that one day I could also smile at my writing. I shrugged her kind reply off, not sure what I felt about it. Was I jealous? Sure I can be jealous sometimes, but no, this wasn’t jealousy. This was me refusing her well-intentioned wish.I don’t want to smile when I read my writing. No madam. No sir. I don’t. I actually love the fact that I hate my writing. Here’s why.<h1 data-selectable-paragraph="">Hating your writing is a sign of growth</h1>I know writers who admire their work. Usually, they are skilled people who have been wordsmithing for years, sometimes decades. They improved their craft to the point where all they worry about are headlines and discipline.I’m not like that. I started to write at 27, for fun the first year, then for real. As I’m typing these words, I’m 29 and my writing still sucks like a vacuum cleaner.The good news? Knowing that you suck means that you’re good enough to recognize good work. Heck, your taste might be good enough to tell good writing from excellent writing. Either way, it’s an indication that you can see the creative gap.The <a href="https://www.chasejarvis.com/blog/inspired-by_challenged-by-the-creative-gap/#:~:text=The%20term%20'creative%20gap'%20is,and%20the%20gap%20is%20wide." rel="noopener nofollow" dir="ltr">creative gap</a> describes the difference between what you think you’re capable of writing and what you wrote. Seeing the gap is the first step to closing it. So, when you read an old article and hate it, don’t beat yourself too much. It just means that you’re growing.<h1 data-selectable-paragraph="">The creative gap drives you to improve</h1>Recently, I reread a draft that was two months old. As soon as disgust crept its way into my psyche, I felt the urge to do one of two things. Rewrite my crappy text or grab a brilliant book. I always end up doing both, but I prefer to start with the latter.Diving into a well-written book is like drinking from the inspiration river. New expressions. Fancy vocabulary. Captivating stories. Everything you need to fire up your motivation to get back to work.And so, one hour of reading or twenty-two later, you’d hit your desk again. Your goal is to write something less mediocre than your last draft. It’s like trying to beat your best score in a difficult game. It’s no picnic, but it feels good, so fucking good.In short, when you feel upset about your writing, grab a book, devour some pages, then write some. You’ll feel better, and Stephen King will be proud of you.<BLOCKQUOTE>“If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot.”</BLOCKQUOTE><h1 data-selectable-paragraph="">It’s better to underestimate yourself than to be delusional</h1>Imagine you’re about to hire someone for a job and have two candidates. Walter and Jessie. Both have similar skill sets, but Walter is overconfident: he thinks he’s flawless, perfect even. Jessie, however, tends to underestimate herself and thinks she can use some guidance and feedback to improve.Who would you hire? Arrogant Walter or Humble Jessie? Exactly.With writing, you want to be a Jessie because no matter your level right now, you can improve. You can do better. Some people call this the <a href="https://www.mindsetworks.com/science/" rel="noopener nofollow" dir="ltr">growth mindset</a>, and it’s healthier than excessive positive self-talk.No one ever achieved something by constantly yelling, “You’re the best writer out there!” in front of a mirror. Sure this can help lift your spirit from time to time. But if it’s all you do, you’re not helping yourself because it’s a lie. You’re not the best. You’re not perfect. And if you think you are, you’ll never improve.It’s healthier to tell yourself, “Look. Right now, you’re not where you want to be as a writer. To get there, you gotta be humble, seek feedback, and break a sweat or twenty-two.” Less exciting? Sure. True and helpful? <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hiiEeMN7vbQ&amp;ab_channel=StanfordAlumni" rel="noopener nofollow" dir="ltr">Absolutely</a>.<h1 data-selectable-paragraph="">Other people will love your work, and that matters more</h1>Let’s talk about why sometimes you don’t believe readers who praise your work. You’re not exactly a fan of what you published, which makes it hard to picture other people loving it.Except, it’s not up to you, creator, to decide the value of your creation. It’s the audience that gives value to creative work.So, when someone takes the time to open the comment section and compose a short admirative text, embrace it. And the next time you hesitate to publish a text you hate, remember that someone else may love it.You know where I’m going with this, don’t you? I hate this article, but you may find it useful, and if you’re crazy enough, you might even love it. That’s what drives me, and I think it should drive you too.Hate your writing. Love your audience.I’ll leave you with this <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/309485-nobody-tells-this-to-people-who-are-beginners-i-wish#:~:text=For%20the%20first%20couple%20years,why%20your%20work%20disappoints%20you." rel="noopener nofollow" dir="ltr">quote</a> from radio host and writer <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ira_Glass" rel="noopener nofollow" dir="ltr">Ira Glass</a>.<BLOCKQUOTE>“For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase; they quit.”</BLOCKQUOTE>

Hating your writing is a sign of growth. It happens to many writers and there are benefits you can harness from it. Here four reasons to hate your writing.

productivity

Productivity

writing

Reading & Writing

creativity

Creativity

artsandculture

Society, Arts & Culture

The other day, I was scrolling through Twitter when a question froze me. “Who else smiles when reading their writing?” The lady wrote. My first thought was, “Not me madam, not me. I cringe when I read my stuff.”

She said my answer made her sad and hoped that one day I could also smile at my writing. I shrugged her kind reply off, not sure what I felt about it. Was I jealous? Sure I can be jealous sometimes, but no, this wasn’t jealousy. This was me refusing her well-intentioned wish.

I don’t want to smile when I read my writing. No madam. No sir. I don’t. I actually love the fact that I hate my writing. Here’s why.

I know writers who admire their work. Usually, they are skilled people who have been wordsmithing for years, sometimes decades. They improved their craft to the point where all they worry about are headlines and discipline.

I’m not like that. I started to write at 27, for fun the first year, then for real. As I’m typing these words, I’m 29 and my writing still sucks like a vacuum cleaner.

The good news? Knowing that you suck means that you’re good enough to recognize good work. Heck, your taste might be good enough to tell good writing from excellent writing. Either way, it’s an indication that you can see the creative gap.

The <a href="https://www.chasejarvis.com/blog/inspired-by_challenged-by-the-creative-gap/#:~:text=The%20term%20'creative%20gap'%20is,and%20the%20gap%20is%20wide.">creative gap </a> describes the difference between what you think you’re capable of writing and what you wrote. Seeing the gap is the first step to closing it. So, when you read an old article and hate it, don’t beat yourself too much. It just means that you’re growing.

Recently, I reread a draft that was two months old. As soon as disgust crept its way into my psyche, I felt the urge to do one of two things. Rewrite my crappy text or grab a brilliant book. I always end up doing both, but I prefer to start with the latter.

Diving into a well-written book is like drinking from the inspiration river. New expressions. Fancy vocabulary. Captivating stories. Everything you need to fire up your motivation to get back to work.

And so, one hour of reading or twenty-two later, you’d hit your desk again. Your goal is to write something less mediocre than your last draft. It’s like trying to beat your best score in a difficult game. It’s no picnic, but it feels good, so fucking good.

In short, when you feel upset about your writing, grab a book, devour some pages, then write some. You’ll feel better, and Stephen King will be proud of you.

“If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot.”

Imagine you’re about to hire someone for a job and have two candidates. Walter and Jessie. Both have similar skill sets, but Walter is overconfident: he thinks he’s flawless, perfect even. Jessie, however, tends to underestimate herself and thinks she can use some guidance and feedback to improve.

Who would you hire? Arrogant Walter or Humble Jessie? Exactly.

With writing, you want to be a Jessie because no matter your level right now, you can improve. You can do better. Some people call this the <a href="https://www.mindsetworks.com/science/">growth mindset </a>, and it’s healthier than excessive positive self-talk.

No one ever achieved something by constantly yelling, “You’re the best writer out there!” in front of a mirror. Sure this can help lift your spirit from time to time. But if it’s all you do, you’re not helping yourself because it’s a lie. You’re not the best. You’re not perfect. And if you think you are, you’ll never improve.

It’s healthier to tell yourself, “Look. Right now, you’re not where you want to be as a writer. To get there, you gotta be humble, seek feedback, and break a sweat or twenty-two.” Less exciting? Sure. True and helpful? <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hiiEeMN7vbQ&ab_channel=StanfordAlumni">Absolutely </a>.

Let’s talk about why sometimes you don’t believe readers who praise your work. You’re not exactly a fan of what you published, which makes it hard to picture other people loving it.

Except, it’s not up to you, creator, to decide the value of your creation. It’s the audience that gives value to creative work.

So, when someone takes the time to open the comment section and compose a short admirative text, embrace it. And the next time you hesitate to publish a text you hate, remember that someone else may love it.

You know where I’m going with this, don’t you? I hate this article, but you may find it useful, and if you’re crazy enough, you might even love it. That’s what drives me, and I think it should drive you too.

Hate your writing. Love your audience.

I’ll leave you with this <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/309485-nobody-tells-this-to-people-who-are-beginners-i-wish#:~:text=For%20the%20first%20couple%20years,why%20your%20work%20disappoints%20you.">quote </a>from radio host and writer <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ira_Glass">Ira Glass </a>.

“For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase; they quit.”

Your Taste Is Why Your Work Disappoints You

Hating your writing is a sign of growth

The creative gap drives you to improve

It’s better to underestimate yourself than to be delusional

Other people will love your work, and that matters more

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