Hi, there -

Yesterday, I was listening to an interview with Ira Glass, host and producer of the public radio program, This American Life.

At one point, Ira (we're on a first-name basis) mentioned that sometimes strangers come up to him in public and tell him how much they love the radio show and the work he does.

And then he said, "That has no effect on me at all."

I confess I thought, "Well, that's kind of... arrogant." But I mean, who can blame him? He's Ira freakin' Glass. He doesn't need mortals to tell him how good he is.

But do you know what Ira said next?

"It's because I have a well of self-doubt—and whatever makes you see yourself as not-so-great—that's deep enough that no number of people walking up to me can ever penetrate... the depth of that pool."

Ira hosts one the top 10 longest-running podcasts (since 1995). He's a member of the National Radio Hall of Fame. He and his team won the inaugural Pulitzer Prize for Audio Reporting.

But the guy has an impenetrable well of self-doubt? How is that possible?

Somehow, listening to Ira talk about his insecurity helped me feel a little better about my own. I mean, if Ira Glass' inner critic says garbage like that, then how trustworthy can inner critics even be?

Pep Talk #052: Your inner critic is an unreliable narrator.
In literature and film, unreliable narrators are characters with questionable credibility. They mislead us—sometimes deliberately, but often unintentionally. Either way, they are not to be believed.

The next time your inner critic gets mouthy, try this: Recognize their unreliability, and then assume good intentions.

Reframe your critic not as some asshat who's trying to drag you down, but instead as a protector. "I hear you're worried no one's going to like my [writing/outfit/art/resume/program] which means I might [have wasted time/get rejected/lose money/feel embarrassed]. I appreciate your concern. I'm going to try anyway, and even if it doesn't go well, I'll be OK."

It's true, you know: Even if it doesn't go well, you're gonna be OK. You've survived every hard thing that's ever happened to you so far, right?

Take care,
Kelley

P.S. My youngest kid recently launched a new business offering hand-designed and hand-painted party decor: Hooray Parade Co. She had a ton of "what if people think it's dumb" conversations with inner critic—and then hit the publish button anyway. Be like Bekah.

P.P.S. I sent out my first pep talk email on December 5, 2022, which means it took me nearly two years to send a year's worth of weekly emails. I'm celebrating anyway!

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