You Are a Real Writer (Even If That Voice Says Otherwise)
Imposter syndrome is lying—here’s how to reclaim your writer identity
Ever find yourself staring at a blank page thinking, “Who am I kidding? Real writers don’t struggle this much”?
Welcome to the Imposter Syndrome Support Group—we meet daily in the anxiety-ridden corners of every writer’s mind.
And honey, attendance is way up this year.
Let’s talk about that sneaky voice making you question whether you deserve to call yourself a writer. You know the one—it whispers sweet little lies like “your dialogue is trash” and “a real writer would’ve finished this manuscript by now.”
The Many Flavors of Writing Imposter Syndrome
Imposter syndrome isn’t just one generic feeling of inadequacy. Oh no, it’s a gourmet menu of self-doubt designed to mess with your head:
The "I haven’t published anything" flavor
Because apparently, there’s some magical threshold that transforms you from aspiring fraud to legitimate author. (Spoiler alert: there isn’t.)
The "everyone else writes faster/better/more" flavor
Nothing like scrolling through social media to see someone humble-bragging about their 5,000-word day while you’re celebrating a single paragraph that doesn’t make you want to set your laptop on fire.
The "my ideas aren’t original enough" flavor
As if Shakespeare wasn’t remixing existing stories, and we haven’t had roughly seven bajillion vampire novels since Dracula.
The "I don’t have the right credentials" flavor
No MFA? Me neither. Never attended a prestigious workshop? Also nope. Clearly, you’re just playing pretend, right? (Wrong. So very wrong.)
Reality check: Imposter syndrome isn’t some wise literary critic. It’s more like that one relative who asks when you’re getting a “real job” at every family gathering.
Why Your Brain Is Gaslighting You (And Why That’s Actually Normal)
Last month, I spent three days convinced I should abandon writing forever because I couldn’t nail a scene transition. Three. Whole. Days. Of existential creative crisis. Over a scene transition.
Sound familiar?
Here’s the thing: your brain isn’t trying to sabotage you. It’s trying to protect you—in its own misguided, overzealous way.
That fight-or-flight response kicking in when you sit down to write? It’s your primitive brain screaming: “DANGER! You’re putting yourself out there! You might get rejected! You might get criticized! ABORT MISSION!”
Your brain evolved to keep you safe, not to help you create art.
And sharing your writing? Publishing your work? That’s the equivalent of standing naked in the town square to your anxiety-prone amygdala.
Writers are especially vulnerable because:
We work in isolation (hello, just me, my demons, and my neuroses hanging out all day!)
Creative work is subjective (there’s no “correct” novel)
The gap between our taste and our abilities can feel enormous
Plus, writing communities can accidentally make it worse. When all you see are polished final drafts and success stories, you’re comparing your messy first draft to someone else’s heavily edited final version.
It’s like comparing your morning bedhead to a celebrity’s red carpet look. 1 out of 10, would not recommend.
The Receipts: Evidence You ARE a Writer
Let me drop some truth bombs about what makes someone “a real writer”:
You write = you're a writer. Full stop.
Do you put words on a page in an attempt to tell stories? Congratulations! You're a writer. Quality, quantity, and publication status? Irrelevant to your identity.
Success doesn’t cure imposter syndrome.
That feeling doesn’t magically disappear when you publish. The goalposts just shift.
Every writer you admire was once exactly where you are.
Stephen King's rejection pile was so tall he nailed it to the wall. J.K. Rowling was rejected by 12 publishers. Every writer you admire has felt lost, confused, and completely out of their depth.
A Personal Confession
I deal with imposter syndrome all the time. Even after publishing multiple books and being in the industry for 16 years, that voice still whispers that I’m a fraud.
The secret isn’t getting rid of imposter syndrome; it’s learning to publish anyway.
Ship the words, even when that voice screams they’re not good enough.
The irony? Every time I’ve pushed through, readers told me those pieces resonated most.
Take that, annoying voice!
Emergency Toolkit: When Imposter Syndrome Hits Hard
When you’re spiraling into “I’m a literary fraud” territory, try these emergency interventions:
The "Prove It" Journal Exercise
Set a timer for 10 minutes. Write every reason you’re not a real writer. Then spend 10 more minutes debunking each point.
The Screenshot Folder
Create a digital folder of every nice comment, positive feedback, and moment your writing connected. Review as needed. (I call mine the Wall of Win, zero shame.)
Find Your Writing Buddies
Nothing neutralizes imposter syndrome faster than hearing other writers admit they feel like frauds, too. Don’t suffer alone, friend.
The Five-Minute Permission Slip
Set a timer for five minutes and write the worst, most clichéd prose you can. It’s liberating—and often sparks breakthroughs.
From Imposter to Owner: Claiming Your Writer Identity
Shifting from “I want to be a writer” to “I am a writer” isn’t just semantics—it changes everything.
Language matters: Not “I’m trying to write a novel” but “I’m writing a novel.” Not “I just write fantasy” but “I write fantasy.” Own it.
Create boundaries: Some people won’t take your writing seriously. That’s fine. Protect your writing time like it’s sacred—because it is.
Develop rituals: A special mug, playlist, or startup routine can anchor your writer identity.
Ship your work: Publishing—even small pieces—reinforces your identity. Each time you hit publish, you’re saying: “I am a writer, and these are my words.”
The only person who gets to decide if you’re a writer is YOU.
Not your critique partner. Not agents or editors. Not your well-meaning but clueless relatives.
You’re not pretending. You’re not aspiring.
You’re already there. Imposter syndrome and all.
Your Turn: Let’s Laugh at Our Inner Critics
What’s the most ridiculous thing your imposter syndrome has tried to convince you of? Drop it in the comments!
Mine recently tried to tell me I wasn’t a real writer because I get more excited about marketing plans than metaphors.
As if “real writers” are supposed to hide in garrets, surviving on creativity alone.
Write on, my friends. Especially when that lying liar in your head says you can’t.
It's one of a bajllion reasons why I love the Byte-Sized Story Alliance - we're all at different steps of the same path. Everybody puts theor foot down for each other when the Imposter makes an appearance.