Wednesday, August 31, 2016

Being A Fake

Impostor syndrome, it's called, although that's not a DSM category.

That's the sense, the powerful feeling, that you're not the person you claim to be.  You'll be sitting in a meeting, or giving a presentation, and it'll feel for all the world like you just showed up out of the blue.  "Why am I up in front of these people," you'll think.  "I've got no business being here.  And they'll know it.  Surely, surely, they'll figure me out."

I used get that now and again, up there in the pulpit, although it manifests less now than it did when I began pastoring years ago.

I've felt that return lately, as I've worked on the pre-marketing for my novel.  I've made the mistake of looking at other writers my house has published.  Lord, but do they have resumes.  Award-winners.  Best-sellers. Professors of Creative Writing.

And what do I have?  I blog here, and have a smattering of articles published.  I write short stories that I share with my friends.  I pastor my little church.  I putter around in my garden.

It's more than a little bit surreal, a particularly lovely daydream that has taken corporeal form.

But I also feel like a hobbit amongst dwarves, suddenly very mortally aware of my relative lack of adventuring credentials.

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