My Brush With Imposter Syndrome (Featuring a Wicked Meltdown)
A couple of weeks ago, I opened one of my own books to start self-editing it—the fiction self-editing guide I’d sent off to my beta readers. I hadn’t looked at it in a while, intentionally, because distance is a beautiful thing. But then I scrolled a few pages and… panic.
Not mild panic. I’m talking: What have I done? Why did I think this was a book? Who approved this? (Me. I approved it.)
Everything suddenly looked wrong. The concepts weren’t well explained, the exercises weren’t good. And the worst part?
Since it was still out with my beta readers and I didn’t have their feedback yet, I turned to AI.
I told it: “Be brutally honest with me. I can take it.”
And it came back with something like, “Katie… it’s good. Really good. Better than many books on the topic.” Then it gave me some clear suggestions—nothing dramatic, just thoughtful tweaks.
Exactly the grounding I needed until the actual humans get back to me. (Don’t worry—I trust them more. Promise.)
The Wicked Meltdown
But the spiral didn’t stop there. Because then I watched Wicked Part 2.
And friends… I ugly-cried. Full meltdown.
Somewhere around the midpoint, I had this sudden gut punch: Oh no. I’m her. I’m Elphie.
Not Glinda. Never Glinda. I’ve never been the sparkly “it girl.” I was voted “Most Teaseable,” for crying out loud. I have elbows that jut out at angles nobody asked for. The idea that I—me—am writing two books, trying to scale my business, trying to build something big and meaningful… who do I think I am?
The little girl inside me, the one who has always struggled with confidence, had opinions. Loud ones.
Meanwhile, my adult self saying affirmations and trying to convince my nervous system that I do have what it takes. My husband believes in me. My clients believe in me. The evidence is all there.
But that doesn’t make it believable to the person it matters most: me!
Kick Imposter Syndrome to the Curb
Imposter syndrome will show up. It’s just part of being human, but the best wait to defeat is to just keep going.
I’m still writing these books. I’m still showing up. I’m still building the business I believe in. I’m still dreaming those big, slightly ridiculous, audacious dreams. I’m still doing the work, even on the days when my confidence is somewhere under the bed with all my kids’ lost knickknacks.
Because the truth is… I can do this.
And so can you.
If you’re an author, editor, creator—whatever flavor of “maker of things”—and you’ve had your own spiral recently, this is your deep breath.
You don’t need to be the “it girl.” You just need enough courage to keep going.
And not even a lot of courage. Just enough for today.
That’s what I’m doing. That’s what you can do. And that’s how the big dreams get built, quietly, steadily, by people who aren’t Glinda.
I’m cheering you on. And I’m right here, elbow-angles and all, figuring it out beside you.
