I just woke up, and am feeling off. But I realized something. I’ve been holding on to an old identity, and all the trappings and familiar comforts that come with it. And it’s time to let that go and just be myself.
The easiest way to explain it is if I focus on writing, and say, “I’m an aspiring author.” This identity comes with promise, clarity, work, and distance. It’s the identity of the person looking for the signal that they’ve made it, the permission from someone somewhere that says, “you’re legitimate,” and it can be a self-destructive costume to wear when it no longer fits.
That’s not me anymore. I am an author. I have a lot of work to do, finish my memoir sample, get query letters out, and finish my novel and do the same. Then start the next book. Along with getting feedback to a bunch of colleagues. I’m not published yet. Emphasis on yet.
And this mindset isn’t faking it till you make it. On the contrary, you can’t fake it. I have to do the scary thing, and face the unknown, and do it anyway. I want to find my team. My agent. My publisher. My editor. My cover artist. My marketing partner. All of them.
I know what I need to do. And part of that is about embracing all of me without shame, or trepidation.
To paraphrase some wisdom I’ve heard over the years, imagine what you could do if you had the confidence and audacity of the most arrogant person you ever met, except, without the arrogance. Imagine if you could recognize your own skill level, and truly know and accept who you are, and go for it.
I vow to live this way forever.