Tag: doubt

SoCS: imposter syndrome

So, here goes one of those dangerous Stream of Consciousness Saturday endeavors…

When I read Linda’s prompt yesterday, which is to use sink/sank/sunk in some way, I did not really have a thought in my head about it and assumed I would not participate this week.

This morning, I was reading this article in Highly Sensitive Refuge on imposter syndrome among the highly sensitive population and it really resonated. Not that every point feels true to my experience, but most do.

I have a tendency to sink into imposter syndrome from time to time. Maybe frequently? Maybe less now than in my younger years? It’s really hard to say.

The point is, with my book Hearts soon to be available from Kelsay Books, I have been consciously trying to fight off the feeling that I’m “just” a community poet who doesn’t really deserve to be considered just, well, a poet in her own right.

Part of the issue is that I was brought up with a deep respect for academic achievement. I truly respect all the years of study that go into degree programs in English or writing. Most of the poets I know and the vast majority of poets I read have these credentials and are much more able to bring that knowledge base into their work than I could ever hope to be. I am grateful for all that I’ve learned from the Binghamton Poetry Project and all the other workshops that I’ve been blessed to be a part of, but, for example, our leaders in Binghamton Poetry Project are all graduate students from Binghamton University, so you get the point…

It’s also not that I don’t get loads of support from other poets, both those with academic credentials and those, like me, without them. The vast majority of poets I interact with are encouraging and wonderful in their support of my work and of me personally. I truly appreciate that and use their voices when I’m in an imposter state of doubt, but one of the things about being an HSP is that you notice and take seriously all reactions around you. When I get into my imposter mode, those negative voices are amplified in my head and feed into my own doubts. Even though the voices that are supportive are more numerous, it takes a huge effort of will to beat back the negative.

I am having some success in breaking away from the imposter thoughts as I do my final preparations for my book launch. Instead of sinking into doubts, I’m reminding myself of what I am actually accomplishing. It’s been a bit easier to do after the very successful reading that Merrill and I did earlier this month. It’s easier when I hold the proof copy of Hearts in my hands. It’s easier when I’m dealing with the wonderful team at Kelsay by email as they finish the final steps in the publication process. I’ve learned so much going through all of this and I’m trying to bring that sense to the next new thing I’ll be doing, which is trying to market and sell my book.

Yikes! That is scary!

You need to be able to center yourself and put yourself out there as being a worthy recipient of someone’s money.

Yikes!

Yeah.

Imposter syndrome.

JC’s Confessions #23

In the first few seasons of The Late Show, Stephen Colbert did a recurring skit, then a best-selling book, called Midnight Confessions, in which he “confesses” to his audience with the disclaimer that he isn’t sure these things are really sins but that he does “feel bad about them.” While Stephen and his writers are famously funny, I am not, so my JC’s Confessions will be somewhat more serious reflections, but they will be things that I feel bad about. Stephen’s audience always forgives him at the end of the segment; I’m not expecting that – and these aren’t really sins – but comments are always welcome.

JC

National Poetry Month Edition:

I’ve been struggling to regain my sense of myself as a poet.

This is ironic because, when I first turned to poetry as a means of self-expression ten or so years ago, I didn’t have any problem calling myself a poet. I was writing poems, so I was a poet. I remember early on reading a short essay from a person who had an MFA in poetry, had published at least one book, and was editing a poetry journal, but couldn’t bring himself to say that he was a poet because he wasn’t suffering for his art. I was perplexed.

I managed to still think of myself as a poet through the labyrinth of dealing with years of family health and caretaking issues. I was still writing and workshopping and doing residencies with the Boiler House Poets Collective and doing sessions with the Binghamton Poetry Project and Broome County Arts Council. I wasn’t submitting to journals as much as I should have, but I did put together two manuscripts, one chapbook and one full-length collection, which I started submitting to contests and publishers. In recent months, I have also been submitting individual poems to journals more often.

Perhaps I had forgotten the level of rejection that is inherent in the submission process. Some of the recent rejections I have received with manuscripts have chosen one for publication from a field of 800-900. I mean, do the math. Somehow, though, even knowing that the odds are not remotely in my favor has not shielded me from questioning whether I am a publishable poet, or even a poet at all.

Meanwhile, several of my poet-friends have published or are in the process of publishing their first books. I’m very happy for them and buy and help promote their work but it makes me wonder what is wrong with me that I’m only garnering a long list of rejections. What does it say about me that, when I see publication credits for other poets, I can often mentally tick off which of their presses have rejected me?

Things are better these past few weeks. The publications of my work for an Ekphrastic Review challenge and in Wilderness House Literary Review buoyed me through the latest round of journal and manuscript rejections that the spring has brought. I’ve participated in National Poetry Month projects with the Broome County and Tioga Arts Councils. Binghamton Poetry Project has been having their spring workshops, so I’ve been working on craft and writing from their prompts, once or twice a week. I’ve even gotten several unsolicited comments from my blog posts, saying that I am a good writer, which is somehow still encouraging of my sense as a poet. Writing is writing, whatever the form.

The question is whether I can keep my re-discovered sense of my identity as a poet from being buried by the avalanche of rejections that are sure to come. When I first set a goal of publishing a book by the time I was sixty, a goal that I failed to meet, I told myself that it didn’t matter if I ever published a book. After all, it’s not that I write for a living.

It would be best if I can get back to concentrating on reaching people with my work within my community sphere. I do consider myself to be an accessible, community poet. If I can do that, then I could look at publishing in a broader context as a bonus if it happens, not as a measure of my worth as a poet.

Please remind me when I am in doubt again.

One-Liner Wednesday: question

Why must there be such a fine line between bravery and futility?

This angsty bit of self-commentary is offered as part of Linda’s One-Liner Wednesday. Join us! Find out how here:  https://lindaghill.com/2016/08/10/one-liner-wednesday-an-earworm-for-you/.