[image error]Ages ago, I read an interview with Geena Davis (above as Thelma) where she was talking about taking up archery and how it had brought to her attention that she had this inner voice consistently telling her she was rubbish. She said it’s easy to spot this inner voice in goal-orientated sport and she’s right. In netball, if negative thoughts get in the way as I’m taking a shot, I miss.

But if I allow my brain and my arm the freedom to work together, without doubts and self-flagellation getting in the way – What if I miss?, Bet this one won’t go in, Should I throw it to the other/better shooter? My team-mates think I’m rubbish – the shot (usually) goes in.

I think of Arnold Schwarzenegger in Terminator 2, where the screen shows you the picture through his eyes, with his computer brain calculating things like velocity, distance, speed. That’s where I’m trying to get to in netball – a simple, uncomplicated relationship between the eye feeding information to the brain, the brain working out the sums and the arms/knees responding to how much power is needed. And me, with all my human neuroses, staying out of the equation.

Achieving this kind of zen mastery is no mean feat.

It’s harder to spot negativity with writing because there’s no binary system of score/don’t score. But I have spent years wrestling with an inner critic that has felt it necessary to comment on every aspect of my writing, from sentence construction (I don’t know about the Oxford comma) to the bigger picture (I’m not imaginative enough to be a writer…) and a mountain of others besides.

I compare myself to other writers, always putting myself up against the A-grade star in each category. If I’m down on myself for the handling of social media, I’ll compare myself to Caitlin Moran, if I’m thinking book sales, JK Rowling. There’s always some area where I’m failing, where I’m not good enough.

Last week, after a particularly bad bout of self-flagellation, I decided to spend 10 minutes every morning, thinking of my talents, while lying on the floor, breathing. (Even just writing that sentence makes me feel nervous. Will people think I’m showing off, insane, taking myself too seriously, getting too big for my boots?)

At first the process was uncomfortable and I found it hard to think of anything. But, as with most things, with practice it gets easier. Yesterday I found myself setting the alarm (yes, I set an alarm) for 12 minutes instead of 10, because thinking about the things I can do is actually so much nicer than spending all my time thinking about the things I can’t.

Homework: If you're joining me on my year of creative living... this week's task is to reflect on your talents. Spend ten minutes a day writing a list of the things you are good at - strengths, talents, abilities, achievements. Anything can go on the list. For the first few days, all I could think of was 'I'm kind to children'.  Please share if you want in the comments section below.