The Existential Kink of Shaming Yourself
When Your Inner Hater Has a Name (Meet KeeKee)
Last week, I shared how I’ve been using concepts from Existential Kink to craft more emotionally resonant scenes in my books. That book? Whew. It's doing a number on my brain in the best way. One of the biggest aha moments I’ve had since reading it is realizing that I have an alter ego—and not the fun, glam kind like Beyoncé’s Sasha Fierce.
No, my alter ego is KeeKee, and KeeKee holds grudges.
She’s not just mad at the guy who cut me off in traffic yesterday, or that group promo I didn’t get invited to, or the hundredth time BookBub passed on my submission. No, KeeKee is mad at me.
She keeps score. “You said you were going to write that book three months ago… what happened?” or “Oh, so you’re launching a shared world now? Cute. Let me know how that goes after the crash.”
KeeKee is my personal naysayer. My balloon-popper. My ego in combat boots, waiting in the wings to side-eye every bold declaration I make.
Do you have one of these? That voice in your head that throws shade the second you start dreaming big?
I used to try to ignore KeeKee. Push her down. Pretend she wasn’t there. But that just made her louder. What has worked—what actually gets her to sit down and be quiet—is proof.
When I said I was going to build a shared romantasy world and she gave me that internal side-eye like, “Yeah right, nobody’s gonna say yes to that,” I pulled up the email draft I’d written. Then I showed her the spreadsheet of authors I was inviting. Then came the best part—the yesses. One by one. “Tell me more.” “I’m in.” “This sounds amazing.” Every message was proof, and with each one, KeeKee got a little quieter.
When I said I wanted to double my income this year and she cackled from the backseat, I pulled out the data. I showed her what’s happening in the book market. I showed her the plan for revitalizing my backlist, the frontlist launches I have lined up, the pricing promos, the ads. Slowly but surely, she zipped her lip and lowered her lids.
KeeKee doesn’t go away. She’s part of me. But what I’ve learned is that she gets a whole lot more manageable when I feed her evidence. She respects habits. She shuts up when I back up my dreams with action.
So if you’ve got your own version of KeeKee—maybe yours is a little mean girl, a grumpy grandpa, a smug critic in an editorial blazer—here’s my challenge to you: don’t fight them. Show them.
Show them the words you wrote today.
Show them the DM from a reader who loved your book.
Show them the promo you finally signed up for, the outline you finally drafted, the first sale in a new territory.
Build the case. Stack the evidence. Let your alter ego see your growth in real time.
Because the more you prove her wrong, the more she starts to believe you.
And then, who knows? She might even start cheering you on.
