Creative paralysis

When impostor syndrome wins

How do you cope when the voices saying, “You’re no good, might as well give up” are louder than the ones telling you to keep going?

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Sander van der Wel from Netherlands, Depressed (4649749639), CC BY-SA 2.0]

It’s been a rough few months. Hell, a rough few years, really. I’ve continued to write—I finished the first draft of my historical novel Nightingale a bit over a month ago—but some days characterizing doing anything creative as “an uphill struggle” seems like a vast understatement. The self-doubt screams at me, pretty much constantly. The idea that people will dislike my work, or (worse) feel indifferent about it, is a constant companion. So is the struggle of simply getting my writing seen. By anyone. I have 24 novels in print, through two small trad publishers and some of which are self-pubbed, and although I’ve gotten a handful of reviews (mostly good), I’m still more or less invisible.

It’s spilled over into other areas of my life. The list of things I “used to do” is long. I used to be a runner. I used to be a potter and a sculptor. I used to play the piano. All of the things I’ve given up, one by one, over the last few years were for one reason: I wasn’t “good enough.” Not by anyone else’s standards—I’m lucky to have supportive family and friends—but by my own.

I’ve suffered from impostor syndrome all my life—that I’ve somehow gotten where I am illegitimately, that what I’ve accomplished has been through a combination of others tolerating mediocrity and simple dumb luck. The result is that I’ve gradually lost huge pieces of myself. For example, just the idea of sitting down at the piano and trying to play something gives me the shudders. I know I’ll sit there the whole time thinking, “This sounds terrible,” focusing on every mistake, every fumble, every hesitation.

And I honestly don’t know what to do about it. Not for the piano, nor for any other part of my creative life.

I’m not asking for anyone to save me. I know I somehow have to figure this out myself. Being in a state of creative paralysis is awful, but answers have been elusive.

I also know I’m not alone in feeling like an impostor, and that the goals I’ve set for myself are out of reach. How do you deal with the self-doubts? What have you done to fight against the voices saying, “Why bother, you’ll never succeed anyhow?” How do you answer them?

Because this is no way for a creative person to live.