Writer’s block, impostor syndrome, and rejection anxiety. The unholy trinity of every writer. Or so we are led to believe. Reading writerly blogs or articles sometimes make them sound like prerequisites to calling yourself a writer. Well, no. You can’t call yourself a writer. Because that would make you feel like an impostor.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that these feelings aren’t awful and all-too-real for some people. It’s the generalization that I object to, especially in publications geared towards aspiring writers. The results can be absurd. I once took a workshop at my local library, where a lady loudly proclaimed that she had never written anything because she had writer’s block. Sorry. That’s not writer’s block. That’s an excuse. Yeah. I know. To my defense, the “J” in my “INTJ” designation does stand for “judging”.
Then there’s impostor syndrome. In this context, it’s ultimately the feeling that we don’t belong in the company of writers. That we’re a fake and, worse, that we’ll be found out any day now. Again, a very real and valid experience. But not ubiquitous.
The same with rejection anxiety. The feeling that if my work gets rejected by a gatekeeper, it’s really me who gets rejected because I’m no good – as a person.
Personal narratives of such experiences are harrowing to read. I admire the courage of those who write authentically about their struggles. Such accounts surely help a lot of people to feel seen and understood. They are important.
My bone of contention is that these valid experiences are bandied about in very general and superficial terms. Clickbait listicles abound: “5 ways of overcoming writer’s block”. “How my cat helped me deal with rejection anxiety”. “How to overcome impostor syndrome in three easy steps”. I haven’t bothered to check whether these are real articles, but it wouldn’t surprise me. At all.
Not to put too fine a point on it – targeting aspiring writers with this kind of propaganda might plant ideas and bring out latent anxieties that otherwise might not even have been an issue.
Or maybe it’s just that I’m an overconfident, insensitive brute. I’ve never had writer’s block. Sure, there were times when I didn’t feel like writing. When I either didn’t write or pushed myself and churned out crap – or surprisingly decent stuff. But I’ve always trusted that if I only showed up and started writing crap, eventually that crap would amount to a shitty first draft. A wise person once said that you can only edit what you’ve written.
I’ve also never suffered from impostor syndrome. I’m a writer. I belong. I’m not a published author (yet), but I trust that if I keep working on my craft, keep showing up to do the work and, reluctantly, leave my writerly solitude to make connections, my chances are improving. And each time I expose myself to the possibility of rejection, it’s also an expression of confidence. And hope.
What does make me sweat is the fear that once I’m done writing my current series, I’ll never again have another idea for a compelling character or plot. Here’s another cliché: Writers abound with ideas. They have so many ideas that they can’t possibly hope to keep up with them. Well. No. My fear has always been that I only have one good story in me. There. I said it. Rationally I know that new characters will reveal themselves to me when their time has come.
But damn, holding on to that hope isn’t easy.