I’m Eat Up With Impostor Syndrome
Six items make me wonder, and what I will do about it.
Six items make me wonder, and what I will do about it.
I have dealt with this topic before.
As a writer and creator, I look around and see my self-defined successes and my more easily defined failures. There are reasons and questions that cause me to see this.
1. I don't think my stuff is that great.
Actually, on close scrutiny, it may possibly border on being not good at all.
I boast about not splitting infinitives, and yet sometimes wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, standing in a pile of infinitives I have just split heartlessly in my own room.
I speak of writing daily, and then right after I do, I drop out worse than Tim Leary and it may be twenty-five hours before I can come to my senses.
2. My viewing numbers are not that good.
I have spent years writing on my own, or on platforms that gave me no feedback, no Nielsen ratings, as does Medium.
Perry Mason and other famous mathematicians tell us that we can't prove a negative, but Medium has found a way.
3. Maybe the readers are just too polite.
To tell me the truth, I may be a victim of politeness.
Politeness does not teach anyone manners.
Politeness doesn't eat the cabbage.
4. No money or top writer award.
I can’t blame it on algorithms forever, because, as they say, even a blind algorithm blah, blah, blah.
5. People keep rolling their eyes when I give an opinion.
My comments, jokes, and resources are too obscure for some. My obscurity-based style is simply too much work to be around.
When I state that many of my stories all but write themselves, that tests the endurance of some.
6. Am I just fooling myself?
Am I too stupid and dull to realize it here in my fool's paradise? Is this self-deception existing on a grander perhaps even a medical scale?
Here is my solution. I don't care anymore.
Someday, people will say, “he's a jerk. But he's good at it. He’s possibly the best jerk we've ever seen.” There may someday be talk of a museum, or a hospital wing, or a college bearing my name and a small fraction of my works.
If that happens, so what. It’s not going to happen tomorrow or even in my lifetime, so who cares?
I don't believe Shakespeare or Rembrandt or any master creators searched to be formulaic in their fields to win votes. They just did what they were called to do.
There are no top critic awards.
But I am happy with my writing progress, so I will quit. I’ll quit worrying about my stats, but never quit my writing.
For now, thank you for your time. (my profile — Twitter)
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