I’ve never understood how something so powerful, so pivotal, could be so fragile.
I don’t understand it but I’m thankful.
As a writer, you have to trust your writing process.
There are days I feel like a fraud. I wake up thinking, “Aha, this is the day everyone finds out just how much of a hack you are. The gig is up. You’ll try to write today and nothing but thrash will come out of your pen.”
Every day, I wake up with this thought. The thought isn’t an “in-your-face, yelling and screaming” thought. It’s more like a persistent irritating sound that you’ve relegated to the back of your mind when you’re deep in work.
This thought stays with me all morning till I sit at a desk to write. When it’s time to start punching out words, there’s this sudden moment I feel like running away from the computer, just run away and not come back.
“There’s nothing left to write. You’re done. You’ve finally met a blank page you couldn’t conquer.”
The only thing keeping me at that desk is Trust. I trust my process. (I also usually have Sade Adu playing in the background which helps but we’ll get to that eventually).
Every writer should have a process, especially if like me, you experience strong episodes of self doubt and impostor syndrome.
I remember that scene from Leap Year (pretty forgettable movie but this scene stuck). The guy said, when your house is on fire, what you love most is what you grab before running out.
Battling impostor syndrome is a bit like that. Every morning, as my internal world crumbles or goes up in flames, I stroll out of the house, with trust intact. Trust in my process.
As long as I can get to the table with my process, it will eventually turn out okay. I’ll show up, deliver and walk away.
The gig isn’t over yet, my con is still intact. Live to write another day. Till the next day. Then you get to do it all again.
Trust the process.
Photo Credit: Strategic Monk