3 Cognitive Fallacies You’re Making as a Writer

If you’re committing these errors, you’ll never get enjoyment from your craft

Author Eckhart Tolle states:

“The primary cause of unhappiness is never the situation, but your thoughts about it. Be aware of the thoughts you are thinking.”

And when you’re a writer, your thoughts and perceptions are an essential part of your profession. So is emotional vulnerability.

Because of these job requirements, writers sometimes find it hard to see things logically.

And this is where cognitive fallacies come in.

PsychCentral defines a cognitive fallacy as “an exaggerated pattern of thought that’s not really based on facts.” They go on to state the repercussions of these errors in thinking, explaining they” [lead] you to view things more negatively than they really are.”

So if you’re doubting your skill as a writer or making black and white assumptions about your craft, you need to examine whether or not you’re falling prey to these fallacies.

Here are three of the most common ones writers make and some ways you can change your thinking if you’re guilty of them.

Cognitive Fallacy One: Overgeneralization

Many times as writers, one thing is all it takes to ruin our confidence.

One rejection. One harsh comment. One article we thought was brilliant that flopped like a fish out of water.

And immediately, the emotional poison sets in.

What do our out-of-control emotions convince us?

We’re doomed as writers. Too untalented to be a success at creating excellent content. Too unengaging to write things people will want to read. Too average to hope for any amount of recognition at our craft.

And when we think this way, we’re guilty of the cognitive fallacy of overgeneralization, which Psychology Today defines as “drawing a conclusion on the basis of very limited evidence.”

For example, suppose you write four articles, send them off to publishers, and never hear back. In that case, that’s simply too little evidence to make the sweeping generalization you’re a terrible writer.

Now, suppose the only comment you get on an article is a nasty one. In that case, you’re discounting the possibility that many others read your article and liked it.

For example, many times when I read engaging content, I don’t comment on how excellent the piece was.

Sometimes I’m pressed for time. Sometimes other readers are too.

And sometimes, some readers just don’t “do the comment thing.”

The point is you just don’t know the whole truth about your writing skill when your audience is limited, you’ve only written a small amount, or you’re lacking a lot of pertinent information.

Note: I feel I do have to say that when you get large amounts of evidence concerning your writing, this is not overgeneralization. As a matter of fact, it may be an aspect of your writing that you need to look more closely at and seek to improve on.

Putting things in perspective:

Many highly successful writers will tell you their articles have been rejected hundreds of times. Many of them will also tell you how much venom has spewed from the keyboards of readers who discredited them as writers (and people in many cases).

The questions you need to ask yourself are, “Do I have enough input to make the negative judgments I’m making about myself?” “Are the negative comments coming from readers because they doubt my writing talent or simply disagree with my subject matter?” “Could it be that my low readership is because I’m publishing in publications whose subject matter does not align with my article?

As a writer, it’s crucial to consider all the possibilities before making overly simplistic assumptions about your skill and your potential.

In an article entitled “What Is Over Generalizing,” professor of psychology Dr. Ryan Martin explains that when your negative mental dialogue includes the words “always,” “never,” “everybody,” and “nobody,” you’re likely overgeneralizing.

So if you are using these words to describe your skill or success as a writer, you need to step back and examine these statements’ validity.

Cognitive Fallacy Two: Disqualifying the Positive

I’ve been very depressed recently about my writing achievements. I keep looking for the missing “key” that will help me produce content readers will love.

And when you’ve tried two thousand keys and none of them fit, it can be pretty discouraging.

But I don’t need to tell you that, do I?

You’re holding those same damn keys and trying those same damn locks, aren’t you?

And besides the physical exertion we expend trying to make those keys fit, there’s a more significant price we pay: feelings of failure.

Just because we’re not having the overwhelming success we want to have, we ignore every small victory we’ve made in our writing.

This is the cognitive fallacy psychologists call “disqualifying the positive.” Everyday Health describes this type of flawed thinking, citing that it occurs when “you insist that your accomplishments or positive qualities don’t count.”

And if being guilty of this fallacy were a crime, I’d be sentenced to life in prison without parole.

Point in case.

I wrote an article about the dangers of denial. It discussed how we try to sweep our feelings and fears under the rug when we should acknowledge them and take action.

One particular reader responded especially favorably to my writing. She told me that after she read my article, she decided to go see a doctor about a medical issue that had been scaring her.

I wrote back to her, telling her that this was the best compliment I’d ever received as a writer.

And perhaps I’m being a bit overly dramatic in my thinking, but when I read her response, a part of me whispered that my article may have saved her life.

I mean, who knows what the problem was? Was it a mole that could have been melanoma? A lump that could have been breast cancer?

And even if the medical issue turned out to be nothing, the truth is that simply eliminating her health fears probably allowed her to be happier and less stressed.

As I thought of these things, I felt a sense of accomplishment as a writer that I’d never felt before.

That feeling lasted about a day.

Then I went right back to criticizing myself for all my imperfections at my craft.

Have you done the same thing?

I’m betting you have.

Putting things in perspective:

When you start to focus on all the aspects of your writing that need work or thinking how miserably far you are from where you want to be as a writer, remember these things:

• Maybe your article lifted someone’s spirits.
• Maybe your article taught someone a skill that will help make their lives easier.
• Maybe your article made someone feel less alone in their problems.
• Maybe your article inspired someone to make a life-altering decision such as losing weight, getting help for an addiction, leaving an abusive marriage or deciding not to give up on a relationship that still has potential.

Remember these things, and then revel in the joy that your words did that.

Yours, and no one else’s.

And if that’s not the exact opposite of being a total failure, I don’t know what is.

Cognitive Fallacy Three: Heaven’s Reward

Positive Psychology defines this fallacy as believing “that one’s struggles, one’s suffering, and one’s hard work will result in a just reward.”

And this, my friends, is the fallacy that eats many of us writers alive. It’s a fallacy that burns us out, leaves us hopeless, and makes us feel that the fates have turned their backs on us.

The problem is we’ve been taught that the key to writing success is simple. We’re bombarded by ideas that if we simply produce more, read more, edit more, “put ourselves out there more,” we’ll become superstars.

So we produce. We read. We edit. We submit to every writing contest and every publication.

Then we wait for the moment it will all pay off in terms of wealth or prestige.

What we refuse to consider is the terrible, hurtful, heartbreaking fact that maybe it won’t pay off — at least in the way we want it to.

Even as I sit here writing to you, at least eighty percent of me is still in denial of this reality.

After all, I’ve spent two years writing and working my fingers to the bone, and part of me feels like letting go of the promise of success is too painful to do.

But it’s a truth I (and maybe you) need to accept.

Putting things in perspective:

Highly acclaimed author George R.R. Martin states:

“People often claim to hunger for truth, but seldom like the taste when it’s served up.”

And the fact is all our long hours and dedication to our craft will likely not make us Nobel Prize winners or millionaires or bloggers with six-figure follower counts.

And just as Martin says, this truth is not tasty.

Even so, we need to swallow that bitter pill and make peace with its extremely high possibility.

Now, this is not to say that you should forget your writing goals. It’s not to say that one day all your writing aspirations won’t pay off big time. It’s also not to say that perseverance, knowledge, and determination won’t help you achieve success.

As a matter of fact, these things most definitely will help you achieve more with your writing. After all, it’s a universal truth that grit combined with learning will make you better at whatever you’re aiming to accomplish.

So if your writing is improving, you’re already a success.

That’s what you need to focus on. That’s what you need to remember.

The bottom line:

Ray Bradbury explains in his book Zen and the Art of Writing:

“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”

That means when all the doubt and all the disappointment that comes along with being a writer makes you its victim, you must see all the beauty that creation does give you: a way of teaching others, a way of touching others, and maybe even a way of saving others.

And if you don’t see that as a victory, well, I got nothin’ else for ya.