Of Reading & Writing | Self
Maybe, I Am Just Another Fraudster Drowning in Doubts
We have doubts and so do I. I have serious doubts about writing. Should I be doing this?
The Imposter Syndrome.
The Fake-It-Till-You-Make-It psyche.
The doubtful fraudster.
I wonder why it is known as self-doubt. Don’t they all come from within? Elena Cardone is right. Empires are never destroyed.
They crumble from within.
I have been asked many times why I don’t highlight, clap, comment as much. Many peers of mine are more supportive than my mother, mum-in-law, granny, and nanny combined.
In actual fact, I read a lot of your stories.
I do.
Quid Pro Quo is meant to be mutually beneficial. It works when it comes to the commercial landscape. You scratch my gorilla back, and I slap your red monkey ass.
It is a fair exchange.
But I feel small.
You can be the best in your world and an ant in the universe of titans. This is the world I am in. I would read fascinating pieces from my fellow editors and be marveled for the entire day.
Let me paraphrase that.
I feel small the entire day.
The Deep Pool of Self-Doubts
“Writing is finally about one thing: going into a room alone and doing it. Putting words on paper that have never been there in quite that way before. And although you are physically by yourself, the haunting Demon never leaves you, that Demon being the knowledge of your own terrible limitations, your hopeless inadequacy, the impossibility of ever getting it right.”
― William Goldman, Adventures in the Screen Trade
It hurts to look up.
Ostriches agree with me.
Every animal in the safari seems to run faster than you.
So, I put my head in the hole.
Actually, that is not an apt description. I look around to steal writing tricks and tips. It is easy when you are at Ground Zero, and everyone is on a pedestal.
That said, it still hurts.
Not because others are better.
But because I suck.
I do not allow myself time for self-destructive activities. I like to get busy. It fulfills me.
I like to engage in my 9–6, side-hustles, editorial duties, write, trade the markets, run, swim, and build another stream of income.
But I have to slow down somehow.
I have to slow down to read. That way, I get to appreciate multiple layers of meaning.
I have to slow down to edit. That way, I can prune the story for clarity.
And these activities make me feel small. The entire process is like a dying star, where gravitational force causes the planet to collapse from within.
My writing spirit withers away, bit by bit, just from reading.
And it makes me wonder.
Will I ever be as good? How can I catch up? How do writers actually improve by leaps and bounds?
And… and…
Should I continue?
I am buried by my deadweight.
The Fraudster’s Salvation
The mask on my face is suffocating.
Pretension is mentally stifling.
For the longest while, maybe it is time to let it up.
I want to let my spirits be. The face mask is light, but it feels heavy. I gave myself far too much pressure from the get-go.
I believe that greed is ambition.
But we need to draw a line in the sand.
We cannot eat our fingers just because we are greedy. When we push ourselves too far out, the rubber band snaps. We will never come back.
I want to come back.
Somehow, this writing thing attracts me. I just cannot articulate why so, but it is. And so, I work on it.
I will continue to show up and commit to the work daily. I will, however, no longer give myself excessive pressure when statistics collapse or when Top Writer badges elude me.
Or when my earnings nosedives. Or when my recent stories are free of highlights. Or when I have no one commenting on my work. Or when no one claps for me.
Let me clap for me. This is not about self-praise. No. It is to give myself a pat on the shoulder just to say, Thank You for Showing Up.
And to all contributors to Readers Hope, I say the same.
Thank you for showing up.
Summary
Self-doubts come and go.
I doubt this wave will leave anytime soon.
I overthink.
And I have also learned to commit to the work while overthinking. Did the quality of my writing suffer because of that? I have no idea.
My fingers are on auto-pilot.
They are greedy.
They want to kiss every alphabet, number, symbol on the keyboard each night.
Imposter Syndrome does not bother them as much as their fraudster master.
And I sigh a little sigh.
Dr Mehmet Yildiz Liam Ireland Maria Rattray Karen Madej Carol Price Tree Langdon Britni Pepper Agnes Laurens Claire Kelly Dr. Preeti Singh Josh Balerite Acol Geetika Sethi Noorain Hassan, BMS Dew Langrial John Cunningham Regi JS Adam Zen Chan Technology Hits Esther George Kyomi O'Connor The Wordsmith™🏳️🌈🇺🇸
Resources from Previous Editorial Op-Eds:
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- Illuminating the Way to Find Your (Real) Voice.
- First, We Read. Next, We Write. Then, We Reimagine How We Can Write.
- Illuminating How We Can Change Our Mindset for a Better Life.
- Read Write. Live Right. Stay Bright.
As a content contributor, I write my observations from daily life and my business exposure. Because our life experience is the bedrock of our unique perspectives.