My (Long) Journey With Confidence as a Writer

Confidence as a writer didn’t arrive through a sudden inner breakthrough; it stabilized only after years of insecurity, outside validation, and a hard-earned shift in how Shaylyn (ShaelinWrites) values her own work. The central lesson is blunt: she spent a long time treating her writing quality as a proxy for her worth, so any critique—especially from strangers online—could instantly erase the confidence she felt while drafting. Over time, that feedback loop loosened, and she reached a point where she can like her writing regardless of whether it’s “good,” and where criticism no longer feels like a verdict on her character.

Her confidence began early and looked effortless around age eight, when she couldn’t easily judge quality and simply enjoyed writing. Doubt crept in around 13 as she became more capable of spotting errors, making it harder to maintain the same unfiltered self-belief. In her teens, even well-meaning adult encouragement landed oddly: she interpreted praise as something she didn’t truly deserve, because she privately saw a writing career as unlikely and embarrassing to want. That insecurity deepened into a belief that she couldn’t trust her own assessment—reinforced by online claims that writers lack the ability to judge their work. When she liked something she wrote, a “little voice” would counter with the fear that she was arrogant or deluding herself.

The pressure intensified when she pursued writing academically. After switching from an initial science track, she entered university and hit a mental block in an intro writing course, struggling to generate ideas and producing work she felt was forced. She also did early beta reading rounds—an experience she now regrets—because critique from strangers felt harsh and black-and-white. As her author platform grew, comments accusing her of arrogance and “bad writing” became a recurring trigger. Each time she expressed pride, she internalized the idea that confidence meant she was a bad person, which led her to avoid liking her own drafts and even abandon books after finishing them.

A turning point came around January 2017, when her confidence began to rise through external proof rather than internal certainty. As her mental block lifted, she produced work she cared about, earned better grades, received supportive feedback from classmates and professors, and even got her first story published. She describes this as building a “shield” against internet negativity: when respected instructors and peers validated her, she could temporarily override the online noise. Over the next couple years, her confidence became steadier, until she reached a stable place roughly two years ago.

Now, her confidence functions differently. She no longer asks whether she’s “allowed” to like her writing; she can enjoy it even if it’s not perfect, and she treats dissatisfaction as craft-related rather than moral failure. She credits several mindset shifts: stop weighting one hateful comment more than many praises; accept that loving your work isn’t inherently arrogant; write on her own terms instead of trying to please others; and separate respect for herself as a person from the quality of her output. She also concludes that for sensitive writers, internet exposure can be uniquely destabilizing—even when it brings opportunities—because it can keep the old insecurity loop alive.