Am I a Hack? The Fear of Writing
I feel like a fraud
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I sit here “trying to write” all day in my pajamas, dicking around on other websites pretending I’m looking for inspiration or procrastinating.
Why?
Why do I think what I have to say isn’t good enough to share? Even after amazing comments and views from so many people on things I HAVE shared. I guess Imposter Syndrome never ends.
Does Stephen King question whether his next novel will suck?
I’m all about making buckets of money, but one does want a hint of integrity and fulfillment, and not be left an empty shell floating atop your millions of dollars. But that’s me.
I think of things to write and say, and then think they’re hack or dumb or obvious or stupid. The things I spend the most time and energy on are met with the most lukewarm reception. It’s usually the off-the-cuff comments that get the biggest laughs or the most highlights.
Maybe it’s because in those moments I stepped outside of my mind where I like to hold myself hostage in front of a non-stop reel of self-judgment, hatred, and comparison. Those spontaneous moments are real and vulnerable, more so than the things I agonize over sharing.
I used to sit down to my laptop or notebook and take HOURS to PERFECT an article I was considering sharing. Re-reading it, making sure the words felt right, as if my life, reputation, future job prospects depended on it, or that ANYONE would actually CARE.
I would marvel at how other authors on this site, or anywhere, could crank out pieces every damn day when it took me a month to give birth to one.
I try way too damn hard. The end result is the same: a finished product. This is not my Ph.D. dissertation or a victim statement or a job interview. This is just me being me.
Back before social media, I didn’t judge my ideas. Now, I’ll write an article in my head but then write all the negative comments I expect to get, then decide not to even put words down on paper. The fuck is that? Bullshit is what that is. Utter bullshit.
Writing is something I’ll do whether I get paid or not. It’s who I am. So why have I been holding back? Fear of taking responsibility for…
