Wednesday, August 31, 2016
Being A Fake
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.