In the beginning, it’s hard to get started. There are always last-minute ideas to hammer out and things left to consider before a proper start gets underway. And once underway, it can take a while to get into a comfortable groove. After a few thousand words though, I’ll settle into a rhythm and make substantial progress. Towards the middle, which is the section I’m the worst about glossing over, I’ll flag a little bit. But towards the end, usually as I get toward the climax, imposter syndrome sets in.
What is imposter syndrome, you ask? Healthline.com says, “Imposter syndrome, also called perceived fraudulence, involves feelings of self-doubt and personal incompetence that persist despite your education, experience, and accomplishments.” But what does that really look like?
Well, it’s something I get a lot. I’m not new to writing. I’ve been doing it in some capacity for over two decades, finely honing skills with each story started and completed. I realize that there is always room to grow, and that’s not the issue. It’s the overwhelming feeling that I’m a fraud. That I don’t have the skills necessary and I’m making it up as I go along. And I know it’s ridiculous. I mean, I’m a fiction writer. I literally make things up to write about. But the anxiety once I hit about the 90% mark is very real, and hard to push through.
The only tangible way I’ve found to deal with it is to just grin and bear it. Taking breaks more often to do something else (like write this blog post) help a lot because I can bring my anxiety levels down some that way. Labeling the feelings helps too, though not as much as I’d like (at least right now, and like any other skill it takes practice to fine tune.) Mostly, though, I just tell myself it’s only head weasels and do my best to ignore it. I tell myself when I start to agonize over word choice or something similar that I can fix it in the revision process so I can move on. I still get mired down in the feelings of faking it, and it does contribute somewhat to writer’s block, but all I can really do is jump into the void and hope for a safe landing.
So far, I’ve stuck the landing every time. Reminding myself that no first draft is perfect helps. Pointing out my very real accomplishments also helps. Giving myself the grace to realize that it’s a universal experience also helps. But what helps the most is just powering through until I get to the other side.
That’s not to say that imposter syndrome ends with the completion of a first draft. It certainly doesn’t for me at any rate. I’m struggling with imposter syndrome right now on three different projects. Having multiple works to choose from can help lessen some of the anxiety, though I try to limit how many I have going at once. One project is sidelined right now because, in this highly specific instance, the imposter syndrome is somewhat right. It’s not that I’m a fraud, however; I simply lack the necessary skillset to pull off what’s proven to be an ambitious project. So, I swapped that novel for a different one, one that is less developed but also easier to chew on. I also have a short story collection I’m editing to release at some point (hopefully soon but we’ll see.)
At the end of the day, I suspect we all have our own coping mechanisms for imposter syndrome and how to deal with it. But at some point, you have to just knuckle down and do the thing. No art is perfect because no artist is perfect, but that’s a lot of what makes this wide world so interesting. Because it’s not perfection we’re looking for, so much as the right combination of flaws in the art we indulge in. I think accepting that our art will always have those flaws is the best way to deal with it, as long as we do our best to deliver a product that meets our impeccable standards as creatives.