A Ritual for the Asshole in Your Head

or, a tiny ritual for taming your inner critic when you sit down at the computer to do something that scares you

Writing sucks.

There are parts I love, sure, but mostly I find it lonely and excruciating, like there’s a small sour man in my skull trying desperately to make wine by stomping on a bucket of grapes except it’s actually only raisins and the raisins are my brain and he keeps stomping anyway.

But fear not! I always have someone to keep me company: the critical, negative, judgmental, pessimistic, nit-picking voice inside my head. It’s the voice that just told me that my list of adjectives was too long and that a better writer would have picked more unique words. He’s probably just being defensive, but on the other hand…maybe he’s right? Damn. The worst part of writing is having to spend so much quality time with that asshole.

So I designed a small ritual to call in some more encouraging company right before I start writing. Adapt it for whatever you avoid because it’s scary or daunting.

A Tiny Ritual for Taming Your Inner Critic When You Sit Down at the Computer to do Something That Scares You

What You Need

1. A handful of notecards
2. A small tray to keep them in
3. A piece of wood that can prop a card upright (I use a table-number stand left over from my wedding)
4. Essential oil (I use a nice citrusy blend from Japan. I’d tell you what’s in it but all the bottle says is “supplement air for relax & beauty”)

my very DIY setup

What to Do

1. Collect. Write a quote, affirmation, or piece of inspiration on each card. Two or three is enough to start.
2. Pull. Before you do the scary thing, pull a card at random. Trust that you’ll get exactly the message you’re meant to.
3. Scentify (not a word, but it should be). Drop a little essential oil on the wooden holder to sanctify what it’s about to hold. Stand the card up where you can see it. Take a deep breath in and read.
4. Return. When the critical voice creeps in, which it will again and again (and again), look at your card for the rebuttal.

A few cards currently in my deck:

Running away takes a tremendous amount of energy.

The worst thing you write today is better than the best thing you don’t write.

“Stop aspiring and start writing. If you’re writing, you’re a writer.” — Alan Watts

“When I write, I feel like an armless, legless man with a crayon in his mouth.” — Kurt Vonnegut

“Bird by bird.” — Anne Lamont

some more cards from my deck

Why This Works

1. It’s quick. You probably don’t have time for a long ritual during the work day. You need something short and impactful to interrupt your habitual way of thinking, more comma than period.
2. But it also lingers. Wood makes a surprisingly good low-tech diffuser, so the scent keeps nudging you to stay focused long after the ritual (but instead of sour raisin man it’s the sweet gentle nasal caress of supplement air for relax & beauty).
3. It’s always a little different, so your brain pays attention. I’ve hung at least 100 inspiring sticky notes on my monitor, convinced each one would change my life. They all faded into background noise within a week. Our brains evolved to do exactly that: spot a familiar pattern, file it under “already know this,” and get back to the important business of scanning for lions. The novelty and surprise of picking a new card ensures it gets noticed.
4. But it also has a simple repeated structure that calms the nervous system. In one Harvard study, people who did a repetitive set of symbolic actions before a stressful task did better and felt less anxious than people who didn’t (interestingly, the effect almost disappeared if the researchers didn’t call it a ritual).
5. It’s almost as if the deck knows you…like, really knows you. Because you made it. Just don’t tell your brain that. Serendipity might not be magic, but it sure feels magical.

It took me six years to write my first RRRRituals newsletter (sorry, again), so I think it’s fair to not take any writing advice from me. I’d be skeptical too.

Get Ezra Bookman | Ritualist’s stories in your inbox

Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.

Remember me for faster sign in

I’m sharing this ritual not because it solved everything or because I have it all figured out. It didn’t, and I don’t.

The truth is, I created this ritual about a year ago but barely ever used it. The asshole told me that it was juvenile, that real writers don’t need quotes and affirmations, that they just sit down and let brilliance flow. So when it got hard, which it always does, I’d get discouraged and give up. I even had two perfect cards for those moments sitting in my deck. If only I read them.

pictured: two examples of the author’s illegible handwriting

Untrustworthy grain of salt as I may be, here’s what I’ll say: whenever I actually do this ritual, it helps. Not necessarily transform-my-life helps. But I focus more, I write more than I would have otherwise, and, most importantly, I enjoy it more. That’s been especially true lately. You’re reading the proof.

The asshole hasn’t gone away, I just listen to him less. For a moment, I get to zoom out from the lonely blank screen in front of me and feel connected to something bigger than myself: wisdom I’ve collected from across my life, an infinite line of writers before me (probably with far more eloquent assholes in their heads than mine), and the small, strange, sacred job of noticing something, really seeing it, and handing it to somebody else.

Two Requests

Got a good quote I should add to my deck? Drop it in the comments.

Are you a product designer / builder / garage tinkerer? Email me. I’d love to make an actual prototype of this, maybe Ritualist’s first physical product. What’s pictured here is foraged from a drawer. We can do better.