Hello Readers,
If there is one thing I can say for certain about writers– or really, artists of any kind– is that there is a lot of imposter syndrome going around. In our eyes, there are new opportunities to doubt ourselves at every turn and questions that plague us, asking things like: "Am I really good enough for this?" "Do I deserve this?" "Am I actually a writer?"
These thoughts pop up in my head often and my brain's favorite question to ask me is this: "Will I ever succeed or have I disillusioned myself to think I will?" Sometimes I convince myself that my late night writing sessions and big plans are all a part of some elaborate hobby I've created for myself and I'll graduate and fall flat on my face. But that could be leftover worry from someone's mom telling me in high school that "Creative writing is just a hobby right? You'll have a real major, a real career?" I bet I'm not the only one who has had to field that question!
To jump slightly off topic– though I will bring it back around, so don't worry– I recently got to travel home from college for spring break and found myself remembering the brick of a laptop I used to write on. I knew we still had it somewhere in the house, so with the help of my dad, I pulled it out. It was much heavier than I remembered and the touchpad was so weird, but the old gray Dell laptop was just as I imagined it. Little 10 year old me gained the use of it when my mom got a new one, so I was free to explore all of the possibilities of things like Wizard101 (anyone else play that?) and Word. I ended up spending most of my time on Word writing who knows what and crafting whatever random ideas I came up with that day. Let's just say I was a pantser to the max!
When I opened up the slew of files saved by my preteen self, I couldn't help but laugh out loud as memories rushed back. There was my very first "book" about phoenixes with a dash of dragons, one about a boy who discovers he is destined to go on a mystical adventure to find his father, and a fake magazine I made for my fifth grade class. I also found the beginnings of chapters and ideas that I had forgotten about completely! It was a decade old trip down memory lane.
One thing I noticed about the things I wrote were how heavily influenced they were by what I was reading and interested in at the time– like, heavily influenced. There was a phoenix named Fireheart (if you were a Warriors kid then you know who I'm talking about), something to do with dragons that lived in Scrubbley (The Last Dragon Chronicles, anyone?), and one that featured a demigod of my own creation (a.k.a a sort of self-insert into the world of PJO. And no, the character I came up with was definitely not spawned from a demigod personality test I found online somewhere. What a silly idea). Though I was blatantly plagiarizing the concepts of well known books, it was because they sparked my imagination and got my wheels turning, imagining how I could make something just as magical or let my daydreams run wild. These stories were never going to see the real light of day– though little me may have imagined they'd be a big hit one day– but they got me started; I have those authors to thank for sending me out on the right path. So don't ever let anyone tell you that reading is A) not important or B) not impactful.
The other thing I gained from looking back was the gift of hindsight. I was able to see the very first conscious efforts I made toward writing and the labors of love my inexperienced hand tapped into the keyboard. As I read through them, I had flashbacks of showing my family the ideas I was so proud of and remembered the support and awe they responded with. I was lucky to receive those reactions– I know not many do– and those smiles and encouragements were the first evidence I had that I could create something that brought someone else joy. If not for those reactions, who knows if I'd be about to graduate with a Creative Writing BFA?
Now to connect my rabbit hole down old Word documents and the concept of imposter syndrome!
My old stories are my "chapter one" and a time capsule of where everything started for me. I can see what parts of my writing style still look familiar and what parts have changed completely (example: I use a lot less adverbs now but the flow of my dialogue feels eerily similar). I can see the little gears in my little head turning to connect threads and craft basic plot in the only way it knew how and I feel proud of young Marissa for coming up with what she did. Then, I can look at my current WIP and see the massive leaps I've taken and the growing I've done. I am nowhere near the end of my development as a writer and there is no end, in my opinion, but I'm at my proverbial point B to my point A.
What this teaches me: I have put in the work and continue to put in the work. I have grown in skill and imagination since my first projects. I will continue to improve as a writer. There is always a way to brighten someone's life with a story. I have taken career steps forward in the last ten years, so I'm on an upward trajectory. And lastly, that the spark of a writer has always been in me, hoping to be lit aflame.
Take a second today to look back at your own first scribbles and allow yourself to chuckle at where you started. Whether that was last month or a lifetime ago, I'll bet you find a little something to prove that you are in active evolution.
I believe in you!
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