Oh, that never goes away
As a kid, when adults asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I shared the song I’d created to help me keep track of my favorite ideas, “An artist, a writer, a golf cart driver / Physically fit to do the V-sit.”
When my mom mentioned that none of these jobs made much money, I thought for a moment and explained that I’d be a doctor during snack time.
I’d forgotten this until an early morning journaling session about my hesitation, as an adult, to call myself a writer.
The more I reflected, I was struck by how much I’d dismissed my own success.
Between Forbes, Harper’s Bazaar, and NBC News, I’ve been paid to write 150+ articles for strangers on the internet. Each week, I send an essay to y’all, my lovely newsletter community.
I wondered if maybe my hesitation was that my writing has mostly been online?
That can’t be it. I wrote a book I can hold in my hands. 200+ real live humans came to celebrate at the launch party!
Did I think the book wasn’t good enough?
No, I hear from readers often that it’s helping them advocate for what they want and deserve. One woman I admire told me she read it three times when she was on the job market.
What was my deal?
After further 4am introspection, I recognized the shame I was still carrying about how my book got made. Despite coming very close to a bidding war among traditional publishers, I didn’t “make it” with my first book.
When traditional publishing fell through, I quietly created my own publishing imprint to release the book out into the wild.
While I’m proud of the book and the reception it’s gotten, the disappointment of getting so close but “failing” with traditional publishing left me crestfallen.
I tried to tell myself this wasn’t a failure, it was a reroute. Still, the embarrassment, the “not enough-ness” persisted. A quiet voice was still telling me that I didn’t “count” as a writer.
I explained the feeling to my dear friend Anya Groner, asking, “Who am I to call myself a writer?”
She replied without hesitation,
“Oh, that feeling never goes away.”
Seriously?
I think of Anya as a “real” writer. Her work has been featured in The New York Times and the Atlantic, and she literally teaches writing. Oh how this woman can craft a sentence and tell a story. She’s one of my most generous editors, and I’m consistently inspired by her work.
If that feeling was still present for her, maybe it didn’t matter that it was present for me too.
It was like I flipped a lightswitch after that early morning journaling session. I wrote:
This insecurity is no longer interesting to me.
This year, I’m not just embracing my identity as a writer, I’m BASKING in it. I feel giddy excitement about the early outline of my second book, which Anya is helping me craft.
Lately, I’ve experienced an urgent effervescent sensation in my chest and stomach compelling me to write—a newfound clarity that writing is part of what I’m meant to do.
Rest assured, I’ll continue speaking and hosting rich environments for us to explore (see below). I love being a speaker and coach/facilitator.
AND, I am a goddamn writer. I’m literally beaming at my computer and a little misty as I type.
It seems imposter syndrome may never go away, but I’m no longer letting it dictate how I see myself.
Your writer friend,
Lelia