Some days, I open a blank document and wonder who in the world thought this writing thing was a good idea.
Other days, I reread something I wrote and think, Wow, that’s actually pretty good... wait, I wrote that?!
And then there are days when I crank out a full paragraph, sit back, squint, and think, Nope. Absolutely not.
It’s a vicious, irritating cycle. (And I keep signing up for it.)
The truth is, I don’t always feel like a writer. I don’t always sound like the writers I admire. And I definitely don’t have a wall full of awards or a beautifully curated portfolio to prove my credibility. In fact, most of my work has been for other people—ghostwritten, unnamed, tucked away in someone else’s success story. I don’t even have a finished book yet. (Working on that. Promise.)
But I still show up. Every day.
And that’s how I know.
I know I’m a writer because the words won’t leave me alone. Because even on the days I feel stuck, I want to find the right phrase, the better sentence, the truer story. Because whenever something stirs in me, my first instinct—always—is to reach for a keyboard, a notebook, or the notes app on my phone.
I know I’m a writer because I rewrite. Good grief, I probably spend more time rewriting than I do writing in the first place. Because I second-guess. Because I care—deeply—about getting it right. Even if that means I sit there for a full day wrestling with one stubborn paragraph.
I know I’m a writer not because I’m confident (trust me, I’m not), but because I’m committed.
I keep showing up. Even when the words come slow. Even when I think they don’t matter. Even when the draft feels like a complete, disorganized mess.
That’s not fraud. That’s faithfulness.
So if you’ve ever sat down to write and felt like an imposter, you’re in very good company. (Pull up a chair—we saved you a seat.)
But hear me: Imposter syndrome doesn’t disqualify you.
It just means you care. And caring is the best place to start.
You don’t have to feel like a writer to be one.
You just have to write.
I find it great fun to read my first drafts. Sometimes they make me laugh out loud.