By Robert Burns
The writing process of my debut novel, Walking on Thin Ice, was filled with imposter syndrome from the very beginning. So much so that it almost stopped me from publishing on multiple occasions.
At the very beginning, all I had was the idea in my head: a murder mystery solved by lucid dreaming where the protagonist uses scenarios in her dreams to solve a case in real life.
When I couldn’t stop thinking about it, I began to outline the novel in an iPhone note. Nothing too detailed! Nothing more than 200 words on a note I only opened in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep. I told myself it wasn’t anything serious. Nothing I couldn’t live without.
In the nights that followed, what was just a few sentences slowly became a fully developed chapter-by-chapter outline. Some chapters, the particularly exciting ones, quickly became large paragraphs. Before long, there were full scenes in the note. Dialogue! Even so, this was just on my phone. Certainly, nowhere near a real story! These were the midnight scribbles of a millennial madman with too much anxiety and heartburn for his own good. Nothing to take seriously.
As the pandemic dragged on, I made what I felt was the biggest commitment to my novel thus far. I copied everything from the note and put it in a Microsoft Word document. No longer did it live on an app made for grocery and to-do lists, but now it was on a publishable medium. I assured myself that they were still just ramblings, hardly a handful of scenes. Once life got back to normal, I was convinced I would shelve it and forget all about it.
It became clear to me that I wouldn’t forget about the story (at least not yet). I wanted to add to it. Flesh it out. Make it better. I decided to finally take the process seriously. I was going to attempt to write the murder mystery novel that, at this point, had a detailed enough outline to make even the most extensive plotter proud.
With this newfound dedication, I still wrote with more starts and stops than a 90 Day Fiancé relationship. I’d write a full chapter one day and drop it for a month. I was writing at my own speed and was honestly surprised I was writing at all. At every corner, every save and log out for the day, I knew I might never look at it again. I thought I would have been fine as one of those people who shelve a half-finished novel for the rest of their lives. It wasn’t a complete manuscript. I assured myself there was no harm in letting it gather dust for the rest of eternity.
Now, why did I spend so much time telling you all this? Because I want to hammer the point home: I don’t think I was ever serious about publishing a novel. I was ready to drop it at any point because of the imposter syndrome embedded deep in my brain telling me, “I’m not a writer.”
This didn’t end with the first draft; it bled into every other phase of the writing and publishing process. After my alpha reader (my wife) gave me notes, I edited and re-edited countless drafts to turn an idea into an actual novel. If I was going to let someone out of my household see it, it would have to be as perfect as I could make it.
Finally, the novel was ready for beta readers. None of my admittedly small social circle are readers. Most hadn’t read a book since college. Many of them only read Cliff Notes in college. I turned to Twitter, where I had already created a profile for future marketing purposes, to find beta readers. Suddenly I was extremely nervous as my novel was with a handful of strangers I had never met, most of whom I had only spoken to casually, if at all. Weeks dragged on as I waited for their feedback. Finally, it slowly came rolling in, and it was mostly positive! Some great points, some words of encouragement, and some necessary critical feedback to help me move the plot forward.
I incorporated the feedback and relentlessly re-edited my draft. At that point, I knew I’d written a novel. A novel I thought a lot of people could enjoy. Only if I could get it to a state where everything I wanted to convey was there (sound familiar?). The imposter syndrome had shifted from ”I can’t write a novel” to “I can’t write a novel anyone will want to read.” A small but very important difference!
Next, I got my novel edited by another writing community member, hoping that would help make it the perfection I needed it to be. While it was certainly helpful, I wasn’t satisfied. The ideas still weren’t translating the way I wanted them to, and if the idea didn’t translate, readers wouldn’t be able to enjoy it. I went for the second round of new beta readers, who gave some helpful advice. However, after incorporating their edits and more revisions, it still didn’t feel like something ready for publication.
At that point, I was sick of reading the same sentence over and over. I officially shelved my one and only WIP. Figuring maybe if I let it sit, I could later come back fresh and make the needed changes. Or, the thought further in my brain that I wanted to ignore was telling me I would never be able to write a publishable novel. Something I knew the whole time.
I was ready to let the imposter syndrome win! It wouldn’t have sat on the shelf for a matter of weeks or even months; it would have been years and years. Just another bar story of “yeah, I wrote a story during the pandemic, nothing ready for publication, though.”
What brought me out of this funk? My original beta readers.
My original beta readers, whom I hadn’t known for more than a few months, two of them were persistent in asking me how things were going. Checking in on my progress, excited for a completed novel, and trying to hold me accountable. I expressed my doubts about the novel and admitted it wasn’t something I was actively working on. Fortunately, this was something they could not accept.
One reminded me how much she enjoyed it, ensuring me others would too. The other introduced me to another author (who has since become a dear friend) who gave me immeasurable help in figuring out the technical side of publishing and getting my novel ready to be seen as a real professional indie book. What really resonated with me was the phrase, “this is a story that needs to be told.”
This help from strangers gave me the faith in my novel that I needed to drag it over the finish line. I could finally say out loud, “I’m going to publish this book,” with full confidence. I saw myself making smaller and smaller edits every rewrite before finally gathering the courage to publish.
Without the help of the Twitter writing community, I would have let the imposter syndrome get the better of me. And as I look back on it, the odds were always stacked against publishing. From day one, I never saw it as a realistic goal, which let the imposter syndrome grow unchecked during the entire process.
I am so happy I published it! Once I did, the community around me grew even bigger as my eyes were opened to new authors, new readers, and others in the writing community with whom I would never have interacted if I hadn’t clicked publish. Of course, those who were there for me early on continued to be great supporters of my book, whom I still can’t thank enough to this day.
For those of you waiting for the stars to align before writing, get writing. For those of you waiting for an engraved invitation before publishing, go ahead and publish! I was so close to not publishing and only did because of the help of like-minded strangers. I would have regretted it, and honestly, I still kick myself that I didn’t publish sooner. Don’t let the imposter syndrome beat you down. You are an author. There are readers out there and fellow creatives here to support your journey, starting with me!
