You've probably experienced this: you sit down to write, fingers hovering over the keyboard, and before you've even typed a sentence, that voice creeps in. This isn't good enough. Who do you think you are? Why would anyone want to read this?

Brandon Sanderson, bestselling fantasy author and beloved writing teacher, has given us countless frameworks for crafting better stories. But one of his most useful concepts—"Promises, Progress, Payoff"—isn't just about structuring plots. It's a surprisingly powerful tool for restructuring how we think about ourselves as writers, especially when self-doubt threatens to derail our creative work.

Let me show you how to turn this storytelling framework inward to build confidence and silence that critical voice that's been holding you back.

Understanding Promises, Progress, Payoff

First, let's quickly recap Sanderson's framework. In storytelling terms:

- Promises are what you signal to your reader about what kind of story they're getting
- Progress is the steady fulfillment of those promises throughout the narrative
- Payoff is the satisfying delivery on what you've been building toward

A mystery novel promises intrigue and clues. It progresses by revealing information and deepening the puzzle. It pays off when the detective solves the case in a way that feels both surprising and inevitable.

But here's the insight that changed how I approach my writing sessions: you can make promises to yourself as a writer, track your progress against those promises, and create payoffs that reinforce your identity as a capable creator.

The Problem with How We Promise Ourselves Things

Most writers sabotage themselves with vague, overwhelming promises that set them up for failure. We tell ourselves things like "I'm going to write an amazing novel" or "I'll become a great writer this year."

These aren't promises—they're wishes. And worse, they're the kind of promises that self-doubt feeds on because they're impossible to measure and easy to dismiss.

When you can't clearly see progress toward a vague goal, your inner critic has a field day. See? You're still not amazing. You're still not great. Maybe you never will be.

Reframing Your Promises to Yourself

Instead, try making specific, achievable promises that focus on actions rather than outcomes:

- "I will write for 20 minutes today"
- "I will complete this scene by Friday"
- "I will experiment with writing dialogue in a new way this week"
- "I will finish one complete draft of this short story"

Notice how these promises are concrete? You know exactly what you're committing to, and more importantly, you'll know without ambiguity whether you've kept that promise.

This is crucial for combating self-doubt because it removes the wiggle room that lets your inner critic redefine success. You either wrote for 20 minutes or you didn't. Your harsh inner voice can't move the goalposts on you.

Building Progress That You Can Actually See

Here's where most writers get lost in the fog of self-critique: they don't track their progress in meaningful ways.

We tend to measure ourselves against published authors, bestseller lists, or some imaginary standard of "good enough." This is like trying to navigate by stars you can't see. No wonder we feel lost.

Instead, measure your progress against the specific promises you made to yourself. Create visible evidence of forward movement:

Keep a simple completion log. Did you fulfill today's writing promise? Mark it down. Use a calendar, a spreadsheet, a journal—whatever works. The format doesn't matter; the visibility does.

Save every draft. Name your files with dates. When self-doubt whispers that you're not improving, you can literally open "Draft_January.doc" next to "Draft_March.doc" and see the difference.

Track your craft experiments. Note when you try something new—a different POV, a new genre, a structural experiment. Whether it "works" or not, you're building evidence that you're actively developing as a writer.

The magic here is that you're creating an objective record that counteracts subjective self-doubt. When your inner critic says "You're not making progress," you can point to concrete evidence that you are.

Creating Payoffs That Reinforce Your Identity

This is where the framework really transforms how you relate to yourself as a writer.

Traditional advice tells us to celebrate finishing a draft or getting published. That's fine, but those payoffs are too rare and too distant to sustain us through the daily grind of facing our self-doubt.

Instead, create frequent, meaningful payoffs tied directly to the promises you made:

Immediate micro-payoffs: When you complete your 20-minute writing session, do something that marks the achievement. Close your laptop with intention. Verbally acknowledge "I did what I said I'd do." Make a cup of tea. These tiny rituals cement the completion.

Weekly progress reviews: Every week, look at your completion log. Count how many promises you kept. Let yourself feel satisfaction about that number—not as "enough" or "not enough," but as simple fact. You said you'd do X things, and you did Y of them. That's data, not judgment.

Monthly capability recognition: Once a month, review what you've learned or tried. Write yourself a brief note acknowledging new skills or insights. "This month I figured out how to write action scenes with shorter sentences" is a payoff that builds your identity as someone who grows and develops.

The Compound Effect on Self-Doubt

Here's what happens when you consistently apply this framework to yourself:

Your brain starts recognizing a pattern. You make promises. You keep them. You acknowledge keeping them. Repeat.

This builds something more powerful than confidence—it builds self-trust. And self-trust is kryptonite to self-doubt.

Your inner critic thrives on ambiguity and broken promises. When you make vague commitments and then inevitably fall short of perfection, that voice grows stronger. But when you make clear promises and consistently keep them—even small ones—you're building evidence that you are someone who does what they say they'll do.

That's an identity shift. You're no longer "aspiring" to be a writer who shows up. You're demonstrating through repeated action that you ARE a writer who shows up.

Starting Tomorrow (Or Today)

You don't need to overhaul your entire writing practice to use this framework. Start small:

1. Make one specific promise to yourself about your writing for tomorrow
2. Keep that promise (and only that promise—don't expand it mid-stream)
3. Mark down that you kept it
4. Acknowledge the completion in some small way

That's it. That's the whole system.

As you build trust with yourself through kept promises, you can gradually expand what you promise. But the framework stays the same: clear promises, visible progress, acknowledged payoffs.

Your self-doubt will probably still show up. That voice might never disappear entirely. But when you've built a solid foundation of kept promises and tracked progress, that voice becomes background noise rather than the narrator of your writing life.

And that makes all the difference.