I heard a Stevie Wonder song the other day, one I've heard a million times – Superstition – and one line hit me in a different way than all the other times I listened to it:
"When you believe in things that you don't understand"
I realized that can apply not only to superstition, but to faith. Superstition is clearly fear-based, while faith is hope-based. I have a tendency to use both, since the primitive part of my brain is fairly well-entrenched, and I figure it can't hurt to knock on wood or wish upon a star to placate any entity willing to help me out.
Writing is definitely an act of faith, one that borders on hubris. Here I am creating something that has not existed before, and I do this with the belief that it is worthwhile and worth the effort. It feels like magic sometimes, because I'm watching something materialize in my brain that doesn't have a physical form until I start tapping on my keyboard. Once it does appear, I have to draw on my faith that I can take this vague-ish idea and form it into a cohesive, entertaining story. Readers have faith in me to give them an emotional experience with the words I put together in the way only I can.
However, faith is not something that you acquire once and then you're set for life. If only.
A lot of things I write show up mere seconds before "I'm not sure this is going to work" shoots through my mind. But I choose to believe it will, even when there's no guarantee. I've learned those crazy-ass ideas are the ones I want to pursue because, more times than not, they work in an even more spectacular fashion than the "normal" or "safe" things do.
My faith has a tendency to ebb during the final stretch of the revision process. After many hours and days chipping away the rough edges, and smoothing over boo boos that weren't visible before you started making improvements. . .the finish line keeps getting farther and farther away. That's when faith starts to flicker like a light bulb ready to stop shining forever. You're exhausted and dispirited and convinced you've finally met the challenge that was meant to annihilate you all along. You'll have nothing to show for your efforts but a mass of broken paragraphs and massacred scenes that used to be a decent first draft, all of it covered with your blood, sweat and tears.
And yet. . .somehow it always works out. It's the result of "believing in something you don't understand". Maybe this is part of the process, breaking things down until the fear can no longer touch you. Now, while you're in a more humble state, you can see what it was you wanted to do with this story. Having a crisis of faith is actually what restores your belief. It bolsters you for the next time you falter and want to give up.
Faith is what made you start writing the story, when nobody but you thought it was possible you could write. Faith will get you through the process, because you know how much you want to create this story, no matter how many obstacles you encounter.
Faith keeps growing with each word you write.