Why Writing Feels Like Fighting Yourself (And How to Win)

You know that voice, right? The one that whispers—or sometimes shouts—that your writing is terrible, that you're wasting your time, that real writers don't struggle like this?

That voice has derailed more writing projects than any external obstacle ever could. But here's something fascinating: Brandon Sanderson, one of the most prolific fantasy authors alive, has a framework that wasn't designed to fight self-doubt... yet it works brilliantly for exactly that purpose.

His "Promises, Progress, Payoff" framework is typically used to craft satisfying stories, but when you turn it inward on your own creative process, it becomes a powerful tool for silencing your inner critic and actually finishing what you start.

Let me show you how.

Understanding the Framework (The 30-Second Version)

Sanderson's framework is delightfully simple:

- Promise: Set up an expectation for your reader
- Progress: Deliver incremental developments that show you haven't forgotten
- Payoff: Satisfy that expectation in a meaningful way

In storytelling, this might mean promising a confrontation between rivals (promise), showing mounting tension through several chapters (progress), then delivering an epic showdown (payoff).

But your relationship with your own writing? That's a story too. And right now, it might be a story where promises are broken, progress feels invisible, and payoffs never come.

Let's fix that.

Making Promises to Yourself (That You'll Actually Keep)

The moment you sit down to write, you're making implicit promises to yourself. "I'm going to write a novel." "I'm going to finish this chapter." "I'm going to be a real writer."

These promises are often where self-doubt gets its hooks in deepest. Why? Because they're vague, enormous, and easy to fail.

The fix: Make smaller, crystal-clear promises that feel achievable.

Instead of promising yourself you'll "work on your novel," promise yourself you'll:
- Write for 15 minutes
- Complete one scene
- Add 300 words to your draft
- Revise two pages

Notice how specific these are? That specificity is your armor against doubt. Your inner critic can't tell you that 300 words is impossible. It can try, but you'll know it's lying.

Action step: Before each writing session, write down one concrete promise to yourself. Make it so small that completing it feels almost certain. This isn't about low ambition—it's about building trust with yourself.

Tracking Progress (Because Your Brain Is a Liar)

Here's an uncomfortable truth: your brain is terrible at recognizing writing progress.

You can write 2,000 words and feel like you've accomplished nothing. You can develop a character's arc and feel like you're spinning your wheels. This is where self-doubt throws its biggest parties—in the murky middle where progress feels invisible.

Sanderson's "progress" principle reminds us that readers need regular reminders that the story is moving forward. You need the same thing.

The fix: Create external, visible evidence of your progress.

Try these approaches:

- Keep a "words written" log: Just numbers and dates. Watch them accumulate. Math doesn't lie like feelings do.
- Maintain a "session wins" journal: After each writing session, note one thing you accomplished, no matter how small.
- Create a visual tracker: Color in a square for each writing session, check off chapters on a list, or use a progress bar for your word count goal.
- Save dated drafts: Name your files with dates. Watching "Novel_Jan_15.doc" turn into "Novel_Feb_20.doc" proves time is passing and work is happening.

The goal is to make progress undeniable. When your inner critic says "you're getting nowhere," you can point to concrete evidence and say "that's objectively false."

Action step: Set up at least one progress tracking method today. The simpler, the better. A spreadsheet with dates and word counts works perfectly.

Delivering Payoffs (The Secret Sauce)

This is where most writers' self-relationships fall apart completely. We promise ourselves we'll write, we track some progress, but we never actually celebrate completing anything.

No payoff means no satisfaction. No satisfaction means every writing session feels like punishment. And punishment you'll eventually avoid.

Sanderson knows that readers need payoffs at multiple scales—small ones frequently, big ones occasionally. You need the same structure.

The fix: Design a reward system with multiple tiers.

Micro-payoffs (after each session):
- A favorite snack or drink
- Ten minutes of guilt-free social media
- Checking off a box on a visible chart
- A literal pat on your own back (seriously, the physical gesture helps)

Mini-payoffs (weekly or after completing scenes/chapters):
- An episode of a show you love
- Time with a hobby you enjoy
- Sharing progress with a supportive friend
- Reading for pleasure

Major payoffs (completing drafts or significant milestones):
- A special meal or outing
- A book or item you've wanted
- A day completely off from writing
- A small celebration with people who support your work

The specific rewards matter less than the consistency. Your brain needs to learn: writing leads to good things.

Action step: Right now, decide on one micro-payoff you'll give yourself after your next writing session. Then actually do it.

Putting It All Together

Here's what this looks like in practice:

Before sitting down to write, you promise yourself you'll write for 20 minutes or complete one scene, whichever comes first.

During writing, you resist the urge to judge yourself. The only question is: are you keeping your promise?

After writing, you track what you did—maybe adding your word count to a spreadsheet and noting in your journal that you completed the dialogue you'd been dreading.

Finally, you deliver your payoff—perhaps that expensive coffee you bought yourself, or 15 minutes playing with your cat without guilt.

Then you do it again tomorrow.

The Compounding Effect

Here's what happens over time with this approach:

Your brain begins to trust you because you keep small promises instead of breaking big ones. Self-doubt loses its favorite weapon: evidence of your past failures.

You build an undeniable record of progress, making it harder for your inner critic to claim you're not a "real" writer.

Writing becomes associated with reward rather than punishment, so you stop avoiding it.

You start winning the fight with yourself.

Brandon Sanderson probably didn't realize his storytelling framework could do this, but the principles are universal: promises kept, progress acknowledged, and effort rewarded create satisfaction—whether you're reading a book or writing one.

So make yourself a small promise right now. Keep it. Track it. Reward it.

Your story—the one you're writing and the one you're living—deserves all three.