CL Pauwels at Large

As you can probably tell from the image (accompanying notebook, pen, gold stars!), Rebecca Kuder’s Dear Inner Critic is just what the subtitle says: an activity book. And it’s not just for authors! It’s for any of us who deal with self-doubt. That’s everyone…right? Right?!

The publisher’s website calls Dear Inner Critic “a flashlight to guide you through the wilds of self-doubt.” Because I’ve been lost in those wilds far too long, and because Rebecca is a dear friend and colleague – and former grad school advisor, I dove in eagerly.

Unfortunately, I found myself floundering, feeling like I’d wandered into the wrong party. Rebecca is a wonderfully imaginative and creative writer, weaving speculative fantasies into her novel The Eight Mile Suspended Carnival, so I should have realized what I was facing. Her daily creative exercises encourage readers to identify – by name and cartoon sketch – their own inner critic, and then face that being head-on in a series of letters, lectures, talks, and scenes. She also encourages regular self-care, and gold stars!

But even though I write fiction, I’ve never been good at visualization, at speculating beyond the physical reality I can see, feel, smell, taste, and touch. I can mold those realities into new stories, but there’s a reason I don’t write fantasy, or speculative fiction. World-building and all that goes with it is beyond me.

A psychologist once told me I refused the suggested visualization exercises because I was afraid they might be successful (I didn’t stay with them long). I think the real reason none of those efforts fit with my psyche is because, if I ever truly had the bent, I don’t know how to play. I lost that ability at age 6-1/2 when the care of my younger sister became my responsibility far too often. It faded even further when the next sister, and then a brother, was added to the load.

Childhood? What’s that?

Fortunately, Hubby took care of the play duties with our kids; I was the physical caregiver and household manager. To this day, the only “play” I can handle is a board game, a round of Cribbage, or a few hands of Euchre. That I have Hubby to thank for, too.

Don’t be put off Dear Inner Critic because of my experience; your results may vary.

I have no doubt of that.