All of us have an inner Critic; unfortunately, its voice tends to be particularly strident when we sit down to write.

"You're no good at this," it says. "Your ideas are stupid. Why would anyone want to read what you wrote anyhow?"

Or maybe it waits until you're actually pounding away at the keys. "That's not the right word," it announces. "You're doing a terrible job of getting what's in your head on the page. How can you call yourself a writer?"

The inner Critic doesn't just torture writers; it's also responsible for clinical depression and anxiety. (It's no coincidence that mood disorders are more common in writers than the general population.) But psychotherapists know just how to deal with the inner Critic; in fact, even the most vicious Critic will fall before cognitive-behavioral techniques when they're wielded by someone truly determined to be the victor.

; in part 2, we'll get out the heavy-duty CBT (cognitive behavioral techniques). Warn your Critic now, it hasn't got much time left!

Where That Voice Comes From: A Psychodynamic Perspective

Sigmund Freud proposed that the personality or psyche has three parts: the id, the ego, and the superego. While the id is often compared to the devil that sits on one shoulder and the superego to the angel on the other, the superego is really the one responsible for the Critic's hurtful and demeaning remarks. In other words, your Critic masquerades as a helpful little angel that just wants the best for you.

So how did we all get tricked into believing that halo is real?

When you were born, you didn't have a superego yet. You hadn't learned any rules and you didn't worry that you were going to do something wrong. You were all id--when you wanted something, you wanted it immediately without regard to societal rules or pleasantries. That didn't make you wicked, it just meant you were focused on your own needs. In older children and adults, the residual id is the part that secretly hopes the other person will choose the smaller piece of pie, the part that urges you to skip work (or school) and sleep in, the part that would rather pursue a hobby than pay the bills or visit the in-laws. Because the id has no sense of morality, our id-like behavior is never meant to harm others; in fact, the id is important because it reminds us to take care of our own needs and desires.

How We Develop Guilt

As we form the strongest, most crucial bond with our caregivers, called attachment, we begin to introject, or incorporate, those caregivers' values.

Our desire to please the people we love and who love us causes us to develop the conscience, which is responsible for holding information on what's "bad" and what has been punished, and the ego ideal, which holds information on what's "good" and what you "should" be doing.

Together, the conscience and ego ideal form the superego. (From a psychodynamic perspective, people who fail to develop a conscience haven't attached normally to caregivers because they were mistreated or neglected. When we don't love and feel loved, there's no reason to try to please the adults around us.)

Because the superego's entire job is to keep us in line with society's expectations, it's voice is punitive, contemptuous, and loud. Some of its favorite words and phrases are "should," "have to," "must," "ought to," "can't," "shouldn't," and "mustn't." Every single time you think or say these words, your superego is running the show.

The Mediator's Failings

The ego's job is to mediate between the id and the superego, but its tools--defense mechanisms--often come up short when it comes to creative endeavors. The ego needs evidence that we're getting it right (whatever "it" is)--and there are no "right" answers in the creative world.

Beyond Understanding

[With psychodynamic approaches] people got insights into what was bothering them, but they hardly did a damn thing to change. - Albert Ellis

As you've probably discovered, knowing that the critic is there, and even how much it affects your work, doesn't necessarily mean you know how to make it shut up, already.

There are two hurdles everyone who wants to make changes must face. They're big hurdles, but there are really only two.

Hurdle 1: Secondary Gain

Part of what makes the inner Critic so insidious is that it has some important functions. In day-to-day life your superego may warn you not to say what you really think to your teacher or boss because you could get in Big Trouble, and in our writing lives, the Critic often provides us with secondary gains.

A secondary gain is a hidden benefit of a problem. For example, if you convince yourself you'll never write well enough to post online, show a writing group, or send work off to a publisher, you'll never have to face the possibility of rejection.

Or let's say you always seem to "accidentally" let opportunities to publish fall through by not finishing your work on time or submitting something you know is sub-par. Your secondary gain might be that never have to face the possibility of your family (or whomever) seeing all those embarrassing things you put in your stories.

Though some people refer to secondary gains as self-sabotage, in many cases the inner Critic is just buffering you from challenges you're not yet ready to face.

Exercise 1: Sit down and think about what you get out of your Critic's existence. Write down every little thing that comes to mind, no matter how silly. Our secondary gains are usually things we don't want to admit to wanting or needing. They feel petty or embarrassing or selfish. Write them all down. For some people this will be hard, but it's important.

Maybe you believe all writers should be tortured or full of angst, and that nasty Critic makes you feel like a Real Writer. Maybe you have unofficial permission to lock yourself away from the rest of the family or be cranky if the Critic is causing you trouble with a story. Maybe telling others all the terrible things your Critic says encourages them to reassure you and tell you you're wonderful.

Now look seriously at your list and give yourself permission to have the things you need without using the Critic to justify them.

For example, it's okay to be a Real Writer without depression and angst; in fact, writers almost always do better work when they're not trapped in the abyss of a true depression.

It's okay to be cranky and not want to deal with your family, or friends, or coworkers some days. That doesn't necessarily mean you don't have to do it, but a different approach might work as well or better than wandering around tearing out your hair while the Critic jabs you with its pitchfork.

For example, you might work something out with a friend or partner so you have a little more writing time--or just plain old Me time if that's what you really need--on certain days. Then you can do the same for them when they need the same thing.

The next hurdle is that it's easier to stay stuck than to change.

Hurdle 2: Change is Hard, but Staying Stuck is Easy

Unless you want to make things better more than you want to stay in a comfortable rut, things will stay the same.

Period.

We all want a magical solution to fix our problems, but there is no magical solution, not even in therapy. We make people work in therapy.

While most people are disappointed to learn that there really, truly is no "trick" being hoarded by the Acme Big Secret Magical Solution Group, learning the truth also frees you to get results by rolling up your sleeves and working toward them.

[If something doesn't go the way people expect and they think irrationally and bemoan how awful things are, putting all that energy into feeling bad keeps them from having to deal with genuine feelings of disappointment.] Their very genuine feeling, their [honest] negative feeling, would be disappointment: "I don't like this. What can I do to change it?"...[But instead of recognizing their true feelings, they say], "How awful, how horrible, how terrible." And then again they get bad results [because they're awfulizing rather than doing something] and sit on their rumps again and do nothing, instead of forcing themselves to go back to the grind and change what you change what you can change and to accept what you cannot. - Albert Ellis

Now, some people decide they'd rather stay stuck than deal with the discomfort of change, and that's just as okay as deciding to make the change. Maybe you're not ready to write that particular story yet. Maybe you've decided that you don't want to deal with how your family might react if you published your based-on-experience novel. Maybe you've decided that you like thinking about being a writer more than you actually like to write. As long as you realize that you have a choice, you have the power to change...or not.