Imposter Syndrome

The funny thing about writing is that sometimes you'll write out pages and pages of work in an attempt at crafting something beautiful or you know... well written... and end up scrapping the entire thing. 

Last week, on my birthday I wrote out a blog that talked about Tom and I catching covid over the holidays, my guilt at not having done any work for three weeks while we were both sick, the feeling of imposter syndrome as I've been working on getting back into the "swing of things", and all manner of updating you about the book in addition to my weight loss progress. 

And I scrapped all of it. 

Over the last few months, I've taken half a dozen workshops, participated in writers groups and critique groups, and I've learned a lot. Though it is certainly the tip of the iceberg in terms of what I believe I will learn over the next year about the craft of writing a novel, there are things I've gleaned so far. 

One is that sometimes you just have to know when to trust your gut. 

There's a chapter in my book that I've been working on repeatedly because for a reason I can't quite identify, it feels clunky. It feels like it's out of sync with the tone of the rest of the story but I don't know why or what is making it feel that way. Is it the style? The content? The word choice? After poring over it who knows how many times, I realized, like I realized with my blog post, that it had to go. Sometimes, things don't need to be told. 

So, that is the summation of a bit of my life since I last posted. We got sick, I didn't do some work, but did do a little bit, and the ever terrifying process of writing a book continues on, in spite of my "imposter syndrome" dread. 

Next!

After our quarantine period ended, I was finally able to start getting back to the gym which has been a welcome struggle. My lungs seem to give out a lot of the days, a side effect from our bout with Covid, but it seems to be incrementally easier every single day. It also seems to be true that the more I work out, the easier it is for my brain to function. It's like there's a secret link between physical health and mental health that I never knew about because I've never really been an active person. Weird, right?

(Oh, and by the way, I've come up with a possible title: 'Kettelbullshit' or 'Fat Ass: How I Fixed My Life Through Weightlifting'. I am not hooked to either title but they came to me recently after I got really stoned)

Though it is true that I still carry a bit of a deep fear about failing at this project, I am so happy that I made the decision to try and I am even more grateful that I have a partner who supports me in that choice. There are days where it's hard and I'll pore over job listings on Indeed trying to convince myself that it would be better if I went back to an office job. But then there are days like today where I got up early to hit the gym and feeling like a million bucks (though a slightly sore million bucks), come back home eager to hit the laptop to begin work. It feels awesome. 

Until next time.