I didn’t write yesterday
I didn’t write yesterday because I didn’t have a lot to say and I had a lot to do. I broke my 80-day writing streak, but it turned out I didn’t feel that bad about it.
The real reason I didn’t write
I’m suffering from a serious case of impostor syndrome. I feel like I’m doing everything wrong in writing, editing, and promoting my books. Ironically, I think this is happening because of a group of other writers that I’m hanging out with on the Internet.
They seem so motivated. They write 10 books in a year, they post regularly on Tik Tok. They participate in anthologies. They know which genres they fit into easily. I can’t keep up with them; I’m still trying to figure things out despite having written seven books.
I don’t want to be like them — I want to be like me, but I wonder if that’s good enough.
Impostor syndrome is that feeling that, if someone knew who I really was, they would decide I was a fraud.
I hear that impostor syndrome is entirely too common. Ubiquitous, even. That everyone has the same dialogue in their head that says that they’re not good enough. That everyone who looks like they’ve got it all together feels the same way.
I don’t know the cure for impostor syndrome. I don’t know that anyone does, or else we wouldn’t be suffering it. I think even my fellow writers with all their enthusiasm feel it.
I may just have to live with it and do all the things anyhow.