Every so often, life hands us an opportunity to practice what we preach. And when that happens—perhaps only when that happens—can we truly see ourselves for who we are, stripped of all pretenses.
Here’s my tale about one of those moments.
I. The Absolutely Vitally Necessary Back Story
A year ago this May, I was accepted as an author at a large, annual book festival in Maryland. The organizers paired my mystery-thriller with another author’s mystery-thriller, and together, were featured on a moderated panel in front of a live audience. Afterwards, we signed books for our adoring fans.
Sounds great, right?
Well, sure, were it not for my soul-crushing, all-pervading sense of inferiority and failure compared to my co-panelist and damn near everyone else at this book festival. I call them writers with a capital “W.”
BIG NAMES.
BIG AGENTS.
BIG PUBLISHERS.
And here’s little old me, with a small publisher, no agent, and vanishingly small book sales. I’m only a soft paperback, and they’re all hardcovers with audiobooks and publicists.
Which makes me a writer with a teeny-tiny “w.”
I should have left that festival with my ego well-fed. Instead, I suffered a debilitating crisis of confidence that lasted for months. The questions pummeling me will ring familiar:
Who do I think I am?
I’m only pretending to be a writer.
I’m never going to be good enough.
I wandered around the cocktail party the night before the festival, wineglass in hand, smiling and chatting as best I could…but inside, I was completely crumbling.
II. Do as I Say, Not as I Do
A funny thing about all this: That unintentionally soul-crushing book festival occurred in May. A few months earlier, in February, I began writing my latest book, Wrangling the Doubt Monster: Fighting Fears, Finding Inspiration.
The book evolved into a series of prose-poems to inspire and encourage every creative person to pursue their art despite all their doubts.
The original title was You’ve Got This: Daily Meditations for Self-Doubting Creatives.
Talk about self-owning!
There I was, furiously spinning out words to help artists stay on track and not allow their doubts and anxieties to block them or put them off the scent.
I was talking to myself, right?
And then along came the book festival…and I failed to heed my own advice.
Oh, yeah, I can dish it out but I can’t take it.
That’s what I learned in the spring of 2023: That I was more of a mess than I realized and far more fragile than I cared to admit.
And, oh, I sold my book to a publisher (with a small advance, even!) later that fall.
Am I all over the map, or what?
What’s it gonna be, Bernstein: Are you a loser or aren’t you?
III. The Miraculous Do-Over
Fast-forward to May 2024. I return to the same book festival, this time as a workshop leader and panel moderator.
Wow, a rare opportunity to follow a different script at the exact same event.
How often does that happen to any of us?
In the days and weeks leading up to the festival, I’m nervous—not about the workshop or the panel, but about…the environment…the cocktail party filled yet again with big “W” writers…where I will yet again be dwarfed by all the TALENT.
Well, reader, I worked hard to flip the script this time.
I hung out with the authors on the panel I would moderate the next day, and reveled in their beautiful writing and all the success coming their way.
I allowed myself to feel lucky to be in a room filled with a couple hundred creative writers. I was welcome in that space.
And I was genuinely excited about my creativity workshop the next day (which went extremely well).
This year, the event brought me joy instead of anguish…
Feelings of competence and mastery instead of cluelessness…
A sense of belonging—taking my rightful place—instead of faking it.
IV. Making Change From Within
Just as you cannot step into the same place in a stream twice, time affords us the grace to change.
I’m not exactly the same person I was a year ago. I’ve done a lot of work to wrestle with my own doubts, put them in their place, and consciously move on to take creative risks and leaps precisely because I don’t allow doubt to hold me back.
I’m living proof that:
You can commit to emotional growth at any age.
You can unspool the negative tapes playing over and over in your head.
You can do these things because you are not a static creature. You are still learning, evolving, and acquiring fresh perspectives on old torments.
You are constantly moving away from old habits and notions and toward new behaviors that serve you better.
All of this is within your grasp. (And yes, sometimes professional therapy helps you get there.)
Dip your toes into that ever-flowing stream a little each day.
The nametag I wore to the book festival this year looked a lot like last year’s. But the person behind the tag was not the same.
I’ve moved on, becoming more and more the person I hope to be, shedding old skins that do not serve me well, and refreshing myself in that ever-moving stream as often as possible.
Amy, this is good stuff for all of us who labor to get the words right. I told my wife this morning that I felt like I was in a parenthesis, and she got a kick out of it. "That sounds like something you might share with your writing buddies," she said as she laughed. The thing is I thought everyone felt that way from time to time. Now, however, I sense it may be unique to those weird creative writing folks.
Wonderful piece. You are so bravely honest about the vulnerability required to be a creative.