Many days, I feel like a big faker. I write, but am I a “writer?” I publish and promote, but am I really an “author?” I critique and beta read and offer feedback as if I know what the hell I’m talking about. I do guest blogs and talk about myself as if I am totally legit.
I write stories, and people read them.
That blows my mind when I think about it.
It’s not like I think I’m completely undeserving or anything. I put a lot of effort in to my writing, and I am always working to get better. It’s just that writing is slow work, and improvement (at least for me) seems to come in tiny, hard-won increments. The story that someone reads in a few hours probably took me six months to write and refine. And I mean six months of hours each day -writing and thinking and re-phrasing and second-guessing. So that when people like my work, or even take it seriously, it kind of shocks me. Because in my head it’s still this flawed, silly thing.
Sometimes people praise me for things I had no idea I was doing (beta reader: “wow, I love how you’ve woven the mythos into the subtext!” me: “right, I totally meant that.”)
Sometimes people ask my advice about things I am not qualified to even talk about (writer friend: “I’m thinking of self-publishing, can you give me some pointers?” me: “I’m a huge failure and I have no idea what I’m doing but sure.”)
But I’m trying to feel more confident in myself, and also to understand that, even though my experience is limited, I still have something to offer my writer friends.
Join the Insecure Writer’s Support Group, and be insecure with me 🙂