Season 1 Episode 2: Why You Sabotage Yourself When Someone Says You're Good
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Season 1, Episode 2
Self-sabotage in writers is usually fear doing protective work, not a character flaw. When someone says you're good and your first instinct is to prove them wrong, that reflex formed to keep you away from a future you decided you didn't want. It shows up differently by archetype: LoreKeepers insist nothing's wrong, Mythmakers work harder, Heartweavers decide everyone else's needs come first, and Wildscribes defend themselves against hope.
Show notes:
"You can't tell me I know how to do things. I'll prove you wrong."
Frankie spent years calling this the block because she couldn't get past it. It turns out it isn't a block. It's a protection mechanism, and once you can see what it's protecting you from, it stops running the whole show.
In this episode:
Why the compliment is the trigger, and what your reflex to reject it is doing
The four Houses and how each one's sabotage sounds from the outside
Why Wildscribe self-trust is really a question about hope
What happens in a coaching call when someone buys in and then un-buys three hours later
Why making the moment easier isn't the same as building the life you want
Questions About Author Self-Sabotage
Why do I reject it when someone tells me I'm good?
Because the compliment threatens a conclusion you already reached about yourself, and that conclusion was protective. Proving someone wrong feels safer than testing whether they're right, since being right would mean you've been avoiding something you could actually do.
What does self-sabotage look like for each archetype?
LoreKeepers say everything's fine and keep to the ritual, then get derailed when something demands a pivot. Mythmakers insist there's no solution and keep working. Heartweavers put everyone else's needs first and decide they haven't earned the chair. Wildscribes say they knew it would go wrong all along.
Why can't I sit down and write when the housework isn't done?
Because you've decided you haven't earned it. That belief usually has help — people who benefit from your service tend to object when you take the time back. Sabotaging your writing avoids an uncomfortable conversation, which makes the moment easier and the year harder.
How is self-trust connected to finishing books?
Closely, for writers who run on it. Miss a goal repeatedly and you build evidence against yourself, but the evidence is misread. Goals just out of reach mean you're extending, not failing. Pull the goal back to something you already proved you could do and you can see your own capability again.
Transcript — Episode 2
Hello, and welcome to Real Indie Author's Story Stamina Engine. I'm Frankie Blooding. I've been in this industry for over 24 years — I've succeeded and failed many times over — and I bring that publishing experience together with 30 years of project management in contracting.
Today's topic: you can't tell me I know how to do things, I'll prove you wrong. Which is something I deeply enjoy hearing as a wife, a mother, a sister, a coach, and an author.
When our characters do this, it's fun. You see what they're doing and you think, this is going to be entertaining, and it's probably not going to be good for us.
My Wildscribes do this the most
We all do it. But my Wildscribes do it the absolute most.
They're the daredevils, even though they're one of the most grounded of the archetypes. And when I tell them they're good at something, they go out of their way to explain that they aren't, that they can't, that they've proven it can't happen.
So if I'm coaching them, I'll set them up. Let's build a goal — something you know you can hit, because you did it last week. What does that look like? How do we build on it?
And sometimes I get the buy-in right there on the call. Then afterward: you know, Frankie doesn't know what she's talking about. I'm not good at this. I can't do this. And I'm going to prove us both wrong. No — I'm going to prove her wrong, because I'm right.
That's self-sabotage. For years I just called it the block, because I couldn't figure out how to get past it.
It looks different on me
I'm not a Wildscribe. I'm a Heartweaving Mythmaker.
My Mythmaker side is a workhorse, so I prove myself wrong by working. I'm a stress producer — I produce well under stress. That's the Mythmaker.
But the Heartweaver side falters under a lot of stress. It wears me out. Which is what makes this whole thing so specific to each of us.
Why we do it at all
It's a protection mechanism. Fear-based.
I thought I'd finally worked this out, and then I took the week two lesson in Eileen Rouse's Essence program. If you're not taking that program, I highly recommend it. I'd already done some of this work. I understood the fear holding me back — and I did, genuinely.
Then I did her week two.
Dude. She stabbed me repeatedly with myself.
Sometimes the work comes at you from a completely different angle, and it's fascinating how many directions a solution can arrive from.
What happens when someone says you're amazing
What's your first reaction?
For a lot of us: that's not true. That can't be true. There's no way. You're lying. Let me prove you wrong.
And we treat that like a weakness. Like a failure.
It's the opposite. Our fear, our past selves, are trying to protect us from a future they perceive — usually something we consciously decided we did not want to become.
I know exactly what mine was.
And the fears that hold us back are sometimes just odd. But they're the same fears that keep us from sitting down to write, or doing the marketing.
I can't count the times this has stopped me from marketing work I know how to do. I built the machine. When I run it, it works, and it works well. And there's still a voice in the back of my head going: I don't care that it works well. It worked well. Past tense. That doesn't mean it's going to work.
How each House does this
Here's what I've seen. And I dare you to prove me wrong — get on a call and tell me I've got it backwards.
The LoreKeeper says: trouble? What trouble? Everything's fine. And keeps moving.
Because the ritual is what fills their tank. Up at the same time, butt in the chair, words done, things moving forward. That is the good feeling. So when something isn't working, it derails them completely, because now they have to pivot — and pivoting means they can't do the thing that makes them happy.
The Mythmaker is also a worker bee who gains energy by working. Not everyone does, and that's fine.
Filling the cup for a Mythmaker often looks like doing strange work. Building websites and spreadsheets and databases. Rereading an entire series to rebuild the series bible because you found holes in the old one. Test-driving a new AI because somebody said it was cool and you want to see how cool it really is. Sometimes it is. Sometimes it isn't. Either way you're energized.
The Mythmaker says: I can't stop until I have a solution. I don't care if it's 2 a.m. and I haven't eaten.
Stress is an operational component of how a Mythmaker runs. And the sabotage shows up when a problem doesn't have a good solution. Even with someone telling you I know you can figure this out, there's the doubt: no, I can't, because I've proven the solution isn't here.
Sometimes it isn't rational.
The Heartweaver sabotages through a lack of self-value.
I don't care what I need, because my daughter needs me right now. Or my husband. Or my mother. Or my best friend. Everyone else's needs outrank their own — and I have a lot of male Heartweavers, so this isn't a gendered thing — because they don't value themselves.
So when someone says you're valuable, I don't understand why you don't see it, you should stand up for yourself and protect your time, the response is: I have no idea why you think that. Why would I be allowed to sit down and write right now? I didn't put the laundry away. I haven't earned the chair.
And sometimes that feels valid, because the people who benefit from our acts of service get upset when we take the time back. What do you mean my laundry's unfolded? Where are my socks?
What do you mean you couldn't find your socks. They're in the same pile as mine.
So it becomes easier and safer to sabotage yourself than to have the hard conversation. It's easier to fold your socks and put them away than to have that argument repeatedly so I can write during the hours I actually have creative energy.
There are reasons we sabotage ourselves. But all we're doing is making the moment easier. We're not adding the value we want to add, or building the life we're trying to build.
The Wildscribe — the one who inspired this whole episode — says: you say trouble? Ha. I knew it was going to happen this way. Nobody can tell me I'm wrong.
How do you argue with that?
There are ways. But what it really is, is an argument against hope. Which makes sense, because the Wildscribe is centered on self-trust.
When a Wildscribe is wildly productive, they believe in themselves. When a Wildscribe is floundering, they're struggling with self-trust. And part of self-trust is hope — the hope that they can actually meet the goals they set.
It's hard when you find you didn't quite hit it. Usually you tweak it and go again. But there's resistance. And if you keep setting goals just out of reach and keep missing, you build a lack of trust in yourself.
That's a perception. Because in reality you're growing. You're extending a little further each time. You're just not pulling back far enough to see how capable you are.
The conversation that started this
This came up while I was recording for the Stamina Author Engine, and I had conversations with a couple of my Wildscribes — the ones I can call whenever, since one is married to me and the other is my best friend.
My husband, poor guy, has been through a lot by being married to me. He took it in and then let it sit, because that's how Wildscribes work. We had the actual conversation three hours later, after he'd let it percolate and made the connections himself. It was a good one.
And I could see things starting to turn, just slightly.
The reframe
Self-sabotage is your fear's way of protecting you.
In his case, it's protecting him from hope. Which is interesting, because I have an entire series built on defending yourself against hope.
I only just made that connection. It's strange how we evolve like that.
Finding your author rhythm is sometimes just figuring out how you operate — and in this case, how you keep yourself defended inside a hole of your own making.
If this resonated: good. You're doing well. And you don't have to prove me wrong.
You're doing well.
If you'd like to know more, find me at realindieauthor.com.
Thanks. Write amazingly.
