Impostor Syndrome (again?)

I didn’t write yesterday

I didn’t write yesterday because I didn’t have a lot to say and I had a lot to do. I broke my 80-day writing streak, but it turned out I didn’t feel that bad about it.

The real reason I didn’t write

I’m suffering from a serious case of impostor syndrome. I feel like I’m doing everything wrong in writing, editing, and promoting my books. Ironically, I think this is happening because of a group of other writers that I’m hanging out with on the Internet.

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They seem so motivated. They write 10 books in a year, they post regularly on Tik Tok. They participate in anthologies. They know which genres they fit into easily. I can’t keep up with them; I’m still trying to figure things out despite having written seven books.

I don’t want to be like them — I want to be like me, but I wonder if that’s good enough.

Impostor syndrome

Impostor syndrome is that feeling that, if someone knew who I really was, they would decide I was a fraud.

I hear that impostor syndrome is entirely too common. Ubiquitous, even. That everyone has the same dialogue in their head that says that they’re not good enough. That everyone who looks like they’ve got it all together feels the same way.

I don’t know the cure for impostor syndrome. I don’t know that anyone does, or else we wouldn’t be suffering it. I think even my fellow writers with all their enthusiasm feel it.

I may just have to live with it and do all the things anyhow.

Preparing for Cataract Surgery

My Cataracts

Yesterday was my pre-cataract evaluation at the eye doctor’s. I’m only 57, but the story of my eyes is that I have cataracts. This is probably because of mood stabilizers I have to take for my bipolar disorder; lithium and other stabilizers have been linked to early cataracts.

The doctor and nurses explained to me that my cataracts were not typical. They do not have the yellowish, thickened nature that age-related cataracts have; rather, they were more like looking through a frosted window. “You know that there are three different types of cataracts. You have all three,” a nurse informed me as we discussed the surgical procedure. The third type, I found out later, grew quickly and could overwhelm one’s vision center in months. This is what happened to me.

“You know that there are three different types of cataracts. You have all three.”

Nurse at eye clinic

How the procedure works

I went through many tests, most of them familiar to me as part of typical eye exams.Then I got the orientation on what my cataract surgery would be like. It will be very quick, sometime between 10 and 20 minutes. I will get some oral medication that will make me very dopey — “Like Thursday night at the college,” I’m told. I will look at pretty lights like a kaleidoscope while they do the surgery. (Now this sounds promising — tripping out with a light show. Count me in.) When I’m paying attention to the light show, they’re going to pulverize the lens with (I believe) ultrasound and suck it out a slit they make in the side of my eye, then slip a new lens in.

It doesn’t sound like a whole lot of fuss, actually. I will go home with sunglasses, be careful about washing my hair, and wear an eyepatch at night. I won’t be able to do heavy lifting or lots of bending, but I can return to the computer immediately.

I’m feeling good about it.

I’m feeling reassured about the surgery — it doesn’t sound like a big deal, there doesn’t sound like there’s a lot of pain, and I’ll be back to good in no time. I can’t wait to get my eye taken care of.

Ennui

A lovely word for boredom

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That’s not quite right. Ennui is boredom and so much more! It’s being bored and tired at once!

What more could I ask for?

As it turns out, I could ask for a whole lot more, because ennui results from a lack of excitement. And, it turns out, that’s where I am right now. I’m bored with editing. There’s nothing really happening in my life except an upcoming cataract surgery, and even my writing isn’t piquing my interest.

Whatever will I do?

There’s lots of things I can do. Change my scenery, whether local or out-of-town. Find novel experiences. Find something new to write. Find something gripping to read.

It’s just so hard getting up to do something.

Of the Proselytizers

Beneath the shimmer of russet leaves,
lies a cunning rabbit snare, and
entwining the trees, poison ivy 
blushes crimson. 

Beware the idyllic seeming of the tavern
nearby; the innkeeper steals souls
with a goblet of mead. 
The customers
hold knives, hiding them with smiles.
They invite you to the kirk in the grove
where they flay you with words, oaths,
and ancient spars of wood.

Best to avoid this land, despite the
enticing invitation, the siren song
pitched to the maw of your heart.
Instead, step with sure feet to your destination,
holding yourself in your thoughts. 
Make peace with the wound
in your heart. Know there are many paths
to find blessings.
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Soaking Up the Weekend

Mood

It’s Saturday, and we’re trying to wake up. Blasting “80’s Alternative Essentials” off Apple Music. I’m grooving on it. Not sure about whether my husband is grooving on it. His choice would have been Celtic; I needed something more wakey than that.

Another bat

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(Note: we just packed up another bat for Public Health after we caught Chloe trying to eat it. We’re awake now.)

Weekends with my husband

The big difference for me between weekdays and weekends is that on the weekends, I have my husband all day Sunday and some Saturdays. Lately I don’t see him till 9 PM because he’s practicing to perform in a local musical. Now that I have him all day today, what are we going to do?

We’re in our 50’s. We’re probably going to sit in the living room and soak up the cool, listen to music. I’m probably going to edit my latest WIP. We’ll share things we find on the Internet.

When I hang out with my husband, it’s so much better than when I hang out alone. I can bounce things off him, make faces at him, joke with him.

I’m really scattered today

I keep jumping from task to task, and it’s taken me four or five tries to get this blog finished. I guess I’ll stop here.

What’s Up

What’s on my stereo

I’m playing Rock Lobster by the B-52s, which isn’t conducive to writing but is conducive to bewildering my husband at this time of the morning. I’m using it to wake up.

What’s on my mind

I feel like the summer is slipping away from me. I have a month before fall meetings start, and I pretty much have my course sites (the difficult part for me) set up for the Fall. I assume the university will be de-masked, with those students without vaccinations at risk for getting sick, unless we get a variant more daunting than the delta version.

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I’m going to have to get used to not having to set up a camera and microphone, not having to stand glued in one specific place, and not having to spray the chairs and tables with disinfectant (called “Bearcat Thunder”) between classes. Thank goodness.

What’s in my heart

I’m struggling in my heart. I haven’t fallen in love with anything lately, and love is what fuels me to write. I wrote a poem the other day, though, about one of the things I hate the most: proselytizing. Specifically, the hand extended when someone says “Jesus loves you” only to pull you into a place where Jesus purportedly hates everything you are. (I believe that Jesus loves who we are regardless.) There might have been a crush involved, and an intense disappointment.

My emotions are not strong lately, and I’ve always written out of a place of strong emotions. This is not entirely true — Kel and Brother Coyote Save the Planet was written out of a sense of fun, and I’ve made it to the first edit stage.

What’s on my plate

As I mentioned above, I’m editing Kel and Brother Coyote, which if I haven’t mentioned it, is a serial novella in the space opera genre. I’m hoping to get it on Vella just to see how well Vella works. It will, of course, need edits.

I’m waiting for beta reader responses on both Gaia‘s Hands and Kringle in the Night. These will be self-published on Amazon. Gaia’s Hands is a contemporary fantasy romance, and the first book I wrote, and thus has gone through many, many rewrites. It asks the question: what is hidden from plain sight? Kringle in the Night is the second in the Kringle Chronicles series to come out at Christmas time. Both of them have atypical protagonists — imperfect, ordinary, made extraordinary by what might be called magic.

So I have things to edit, things to re-edit, and hopefully things to publish (self-) various places. I will also keep submitting to agents, but I keep that to every six months or so.

So it’s not like I’m not busy. I’m just not creating right now, and it makes me itchy. I need to submerge me into the editing.

Hello

So jump into my comments and tell me how you’re doing!

This Summer

I’m going to need to find something to do soon.

This summer has been a strange one. I’m largely staying at home as I did during pandemic times, and I’ve spent a lot of time working on projects.

I’m running out of projects.

I’ve prepped my classes for Fall semester, that time of year that comes in a month and a half. I’ll win NaNo today and finish Kel and Brother Coyote in 3 days. Proofing it will take a few more days and then I’ve run out of things to do.

This is even with afternoon naps every day.

Things I could do

I could, I suppose, finish Voyageurs, which is the thing I least want to do. I feel like I’ve lost the plot on that one. Literally lost. the. plot. I don’t feel like the second half goes with the first half. I don’t want the second half to go that long. I don’t — I’m whining.

I could start a new novel. It’s not that I don’t have ideas sitting on the drawing board.

I could concentrate on short stories and poems — I wrote what I think is a solid poem the other day. I might have gotten the knack back.

I could, I suppose, just nap some more.

I do, it turns out, have about three doctors’ appointments in the next two weeks, so maybe I’ll just get the stress cardiogram, the psychiatrist visit, and the setup for my cataract surgeries dealt with.

Or have fun and talk my husband into another writers’ retreat.

The luxury of choice

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I’ve come off as very privileged right now. Think about it — most people have 9-5 jobs and maybe two weeks vacation. My husband works part time and has, at best, four-day weekends. No paid vacation. I have, more or less, a whole summer to do my internship supervision and, it turns out, enjoy free time.

This fall, I won’t have choices. I will have a solid semester with no vacation (except a couple three-day weekends and a week at Thanksgiving, so I shouldn’t complain). Semesters are pretty intense, so I will welcome the breaks. But I don’t have the flexibility I have in summer.

Still I have more freedom than most people do, and it makes up for the pretty slim pay. (Almost).

I guess today I will be grateful for my summer schedule and find a time to enjoy just being off work.