by Theresa Garee | Apr 4, 2018 | Blog
“As far as I’m concerned, the entire reason for becoming a writer is not having to get up in the morning.” — Neil Gaiman
I’ve got it again. You know, that thing you get when things are going well and people ask for stuff and if you give it to them your dreams might come true? Yes. Imposter syndrome. I’ve got it in spades.
It took a friend to diagnose it. All I knew was that I felt like crap. I felt like there was sludge in my veins and no ideas would come. I felt scattered too all at the same time. I was a spinning slug. Tears filled my eyes as I told my friend that a publisher had expressed interest in my book, Twenty-Six Point Freaking Two. But I had to send an email with additional marketing information and I had to send it that day. And my mind said, “Nope. You can’t do this. It’s too hard.” And worse, “You’re not worthy. Why would they want your work?” I felt like a fraud.
This is not the first time I’ve encountered imposter syndrome. The entire decade I practiced law, despite having huge successes in many cases, bringing in lots of money for the firm, and eventually being asked to become a partner, I kept waiting for them to figure out I had no idea what I was doing. And even though the feeling is familiar once I recognize it, that initial jolt always blindsides me.
I wonder if imposter syndrome is peculiar to women or perhaps to writers or artists in general. I wonder if it’s worse when you’re already bipolar with a general slant toward the depressive mindset. But this newsletter has to go out today. I’ll let you research those things.
Thankfully, once I knew what it was, the solution was obvious. Suit up and show up. Bring the body and the mind will follow. Do the work.
And so I did.
And now the email has been sent and the newsletter (including this essay) is in process and tomorrow there will be the monthly bills and the rest of the taxes and whatever reminders come up on the manuscript submission tickler system and more of the same on the next day and the next.
Meanwhile, I wait. I hope, and always, I work.
by Theresa Garee | Nov 3, 2015 | Blog
“Start telling the stories that only you can tell, because there’ll always be better writers than you and there’ll always be smarter writers than you. There will always be people who are much better at doing this or that – but you are the only you.” – Neil Gaiman
When I was a little girl, I wrote about horses. As I got older, I wrote about the people I loved. Older still, I wrote about myself. My writing professors said, “Write what you know.” I tried to oblige them.
I think Gaiman explains this concept more accurately. It’s not that I have to write about horses, the people I love, or even myself, but I have to tell whatever story I’m telling from my perspective. I see the world through a particular lens. Any story I tell will have that frame of reference. Even in fiction, my personality will come through.
Let’s say I choose an unreliable narrator. Even then, the story is mine because I choose how the narrator will hoodwink the reader. I select every detail. And my unconscious will have a lot to say about what decisions I make.
This, I believe, is a gift. If each of us is unique as a snowflake, then no two stories told by two different authors will be alike. There may be similarities, common themes, and familiar characters, but underneath, if we are true to ourselves, a special something will lie. The foundation will be our personality. And this is what makes our story marketable.
At least I hope this is true. I’ve written what I believe is my unique experience running a marathon. I’m a middle aged woman who was overweight when I began running. That’s not unique by any means. I also suffer from several mental health challenges. That doesn’t separate my story from those of others either. I run with my dog. I know plenty of folks who do that as well. But no one else has had the specific experience of living with my brain and body during this experience. No one else has had my precise thoughts and feelings as I walked (or ran) through this adventure. And that, I hope, is what will sell the book.
We’ll see. I’ve done my final edits . . . for now. My next step is to begin querying agents. I’ll keep you posted.
