Listening and hearing are not the same things.
You can listen to what your story is trying to tell you, and not hear it.
Every day, when you sit down to write, you’ll go on a rollercoaster of storytelling. Some days will be fantastic. Other days will be awful. Yet others will be dreary and dull.
And in all of those days will come a moment when you’ll stumble and know something is wrong.
You don’t know what. You only sense it. Your instinct is to either start fixing it, or to ignore it and plod on.
Instead, stop all work and hear what your story is telling you. Think. Do nothing. Until it comes. The voice. Not the voice of your characters. Not the voice of the critic in your head. And not the voice of the fear. But the voice of the story—your writing voice. You’ll know it when it comes. With it you’ll feel the certainty that this is right (though your critic might scream bloody murder—ignore it).
The more you do this, the more it’ll become a habit, and the more you’ll believe in yourself as a writer.