I sometimes think the best writing comes from fear, not of the story and the elements within it, but from a fear of the simple act of writing. We all, from time to time, get into funks where we feel that the things we usually do well are suddenly difficult and painful. When these moments come, it is very easy (especially for writers, I think) to shirk responsibility and move from the word processor to the comfortable, perfectly molded, ass-shaped indentation in the couch. It is an awful feeling to sit at a computer while working on a final draft and think that every word, every sentence, the whole damn story, in fact, sucks.
But, in those moments of doubt, we'd do well to remember that the story doesn't suck (well, in some cases it actually does suck, which makes the value of this argument rather questionable). I like to compare it to the art of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, though the analogy applies to sports or hobbies across the board. It takes many, many years to become good at BJJ, and a student will go weeks, sometimes months, at a time feeling solid about his or her progress. Then, all of a sudden, simple techniques become impossible to pull off, timing goes out the window, and that same student is getting his or her ass stomped by people who haven't been training nearly as long. It's easy, then, to become demoralized, and even easier to choose not to attend class when that funk settles in. The process of fighting through it, of continuing to fight even though nothing seems to work, is what makes us better.
And after we've fought through the funk, we often look back and realize we were never as bad as we had thought.