As I scrolled through the metrics of my prior blog posts, I had a thought. I wanted to understand which content performed best so I could focus on providing more posts on similar topics. So far, my blogs on author-related subjects (dealing with rejection, handling failure) have the most impressions.
The internal monologue soon followed: topics about author stuff. Oh great. How are you going to deliver more content on that? You only have one novel to your name and it hasn't been released yet. How much expertise can you provide on issues that more established authors should handle? What makes you a proper voice on these topics?
You get the idea. That internal voice can be fairly unforgiving. But it gave me pause as I considered what subject I should tackle next. Am I truly in a position to speak expertly on author-related topics when I'm a new author?
Then I wondered: who makes these rules anyway? Who decides if someone is worthy of speaking on a topic? Yes, I understand that I wouldn't have much credibility speaking on cold fusion or quantum physics, but when you don't have any experience in those subjects, why would you contribute to the collective?
But truly, why do we put these self-imposed judgments on ourselves when they don't have much, if any, merit? I know I'm not alone in this common struggle with imposter syndrome. The misconception is that we're not cut out for something, even if we've spent considerable time honing it. But it's all a mind game with fear at the center.
I remember when I worked for CompressorTech2, a trade publication that covers gas compression. During my early tenure, I felt like I didn't deserve to represent this magazine. I knew next to nothing about gas compression and felt my eyes glaze over whenever I had to ask an engineer questions for an article.
By my 11th and final year, this feeling still popped up from time to time. I had moments where I had to look up certain compression terms that many would have learned in their first three months. But then I'd get into a conversation about the industry at a trade show and found myself in command of the discussion. I guess I did learn a few things in those 11 years after all.
I know I'm not a veteran author with an expanding library of my novels. But I am an author with a long history of crafting stories. From stories about dinosaurs in middle school to bylines in several newspapers to feature articles in magazines, I have more expertise than I sometimes realize.
The key to besting imposter syndrome is a compassionate reminder that you are "good enough" at what you do. Even if you're not where you want to be, no one comes into this world as an expert. The best athletes? They had to fight and claw to make it to the top. The best musicians? Hours upon hours fine tuning their craft. The best writers? The same.
The problem is we are our worst critics. I've seen talented people in several different professions doubt their ability, even with pages of accolades and accomplishments. Our minds do their damnest to protect us from pain, using fear as a guise. It makes you believe you aren't exceptional so that if the worst-case scenario comes to pass, you'll be prepared for it.
But it's all lies. We are all exceptional beings, especially when we put our time into our passions. It all comes down to what you believe and then reinforcing that belief. If you truly believe you're not good enough, you'll find all the evidence you need to prove that point. But the inverse is true as well. Don't believe the lies. You're more worthy than you realize.
Even though doubt will still occasionally creep into my mind, I don't let it stay there. With that, I look forward to sharing my perspective on more author-related topics.
コメント