Healthy, justified, constructive arrogance is a virtue. Arrogance is the fuel, the armour that defends us against the rest of the world and our own niggling sense of inadequacy. When you, as a writer, start to feel down, withdrawn, incompetent or like the world doesn’t really want to be reading your stuff, then do this:

Stop.
Breathe.
Flick your eyes up to your wall, where you’ve got something to this effect printed out and Blu-Tacked up:

I stopped feeling bad about my arrogance when I realised that I’m superior. I learned to stop listening to you when I realised that your opinions are formed in envy and hatred. I stopped apologising when it became clear that I am a superlative writer.

I will produce despite your trenchant criticisms because that is my function. I’m more creative, productive, educated, competent and engaging than you. You can complain about me, hate me, adore me, but you can’t ignore me.

You know Paul Atredies’ “Fear is the mindkiller..” mantra? This can be yours. Shape it if you want. This is something you need to stick in your head, though. You are better than whatever force is trying to make you not-write. You are better than your critics. You’re better than your own sense of self-doubt.

Arrogance is a virtue because it is the supreme confidence in yourself that lets you sit down and go “I’m going to create something that the world needs to have in it.”

Revel in that knowledge.

Arrogance makes you write. Knowing, intimately, your skill and talent gives you a logical reason to write. If you hold, in the core of your being, that you’re a superlative writer, then not writing is illogical and morally wrong.

A painter who fails to paint through their own self-criticisms is doing themselves and the world a disservice. A surgeon who refuses to perform surgery is doing the same. Don’t let that extend to you as a writer.

Arrogance makes you share. Knowing that you have talent is one thing. Producing work is another. Sharing that work with the world – an article, a poem, a conversation, a novel – is the moral obligation that comes from creating something of value. The Internet is the greatest vessel for sharing creations that this world has ever seen. Put something online, now, and you can give it away for free to millions of people with a trifling moment’s effort.

I’m not going to tell you whether to charge for your work.

I am telling you that if you’re good enough to write – and you are – then you need to be showing off to the rest of the world.

To fail to do so is reprehensible.

Arrogance makes you interact. There’s no worse waste than the unread novel sitting in a desk drawer. There are no conversations less wholesome than those left unsaid. If you see a blog post you like, or don’t like, and stay silent, then who gains from your silence? You will be left regretting not engaging with someone. The author misses out on feedback. It doesn’t matter if you agree or disagree. Comment. Create dialogue. Get inspired. Feed back. Link. Share. Talk. Argue.

If you see something and say to yourself, “I could do better”, then that’s the virtue of your arrogance coming out right there and demanding that you create a work of value. Don’t ignore those feelings.

Arrogance forces you to interact with your community. Arrogance is realising that your contribution is important, valuable, and makes you want to share it with the world. Do so. You’ll enrich your lives and the lives of others.

Arrogance makes you defend yourself. Without the unshakeable faith in your own superiority, you might get hurt by negative feedback. If you show a story to a friend or a family member and they shrug it off, then you might withdraw from your writing, hurting only yourself.

Arrogance lets you see through what might otherwise be painful and lets you cut to the chase of the issue. Is there a specific issue with the piece of work? Are your critics right? Do they have a point? By exercising the virtue of your arrogance, you can hold yourself together and engage in a dialogue about what might need improving.

If the criticism is valid, take it on board and re-work your piece towards perfection. If the criticism is wrong, shallow, ill-conceived or stems from laziness or moronicity, then shrug it off as the irrelevancy it is and continue with your work.

Arrogance forces momentum and repetition. Deeply knowing that you are a superlative writer commits you to continuing your projects, deep beyond the point where less confident writers would collapse.

Of all the thousands of novels out there, there are hundreds of thousands that were never completed. How many of them were abandoned because the writer wasn’t confident enough to stick with their idea? Their setting? Their characters?

How many were abandoned because the writer thought they weren’t writing well enough, and rather than push through that feeling and finishing a messy, incoherent first draft, abandoned their project entirely?

Your writing deserves to be read.
You are good enough to have your work read.
Therefore, it is an imperative that you finish your work.

When arrogance is not useful.
Unshakeable confidence in your abilities is a powerful tool in your arsenal. However, don’t get confused between confidence in your abilities – and the arrogance to say to the world, “what I produce is worth reading – and a blind-headed inability to develop as a writer.

Constructive arrogance is not ignoring all feedback.
Constructive arrogance is not demanding unreasonable things of agents.
Or publishers
Or readers.

Constructive arrogance is not constantly striving to improve yourself as a writer.

All writers, all successful writers, all of them, have some level of arrogance about them. And all of the best ones will happily admit that, despite their skills, honed from years of refinement and labour, are still growing.

Yours are too. By giving into the conceit of arrogance, you’re pulling a double-blind on yourself. Conceited arrogance is a cop-out, a washed-out self-blinkering destructive pattern. Conceited arrogance lets you wallow in a mire of your own making, refusing to see how your works need improvement and wondering why you’re unrewarded for your efforts.

Strive for arrogance in your writing.
Develop a deep-nested sense of arrogance in your own approach to writing. Feel the Universe’s gratefulness as you sit down to write.

“Ah!”, it cries, “At last! These words have found their channel, the Muse has her paramour, and look what’s being born…
Right.
Now.”

Go write.