This weekend at ConFusion I found myself crying in a public bathroom.
Now, if you have never cried in a public bathroom before, there’s some stuff you should know. You’d think from the way characters cry in bathrooms in novels and on TV that this is a decent option. But it is actually fraught with difficulty!
First of all, is the bathroom empty? Because if it’s not, you have to cry very, very quietly. Or you might be interrupted mid-cry. Luckily I didn’t have this problem. It was late enough that no one else was there, and I made my way to the big handicapped stall at the back and locked the door. But then came another issue. Where was I supposed to sit? I didn’t want to sit on the floor (ick) or on the toilet seat that had no lid (ick), so I ended up leaning against the wall. And then all that’s available for tear-catching is low-grade toilet paper, and there’s glasses to keep track of, and I kept thinking about the fact I was wearing mascara, and was it running down my face in long black streaks, and if so, would I be able to remove all evidence of it with rough paper towels before going back out into public?
Also, everything just seems worse when you’re crying about it in a public bathroom. Because in the back of your head is the awareness that you’re so upset you couldn’t keep your shit together long enough to decamp to a more private location. And that just sucks.
Photo Credit: madamepsychosis via Compfight cc
So, why was I in that bathroom in the first place?
Well. Someone said some not-very-nice things to me. Some personally judgmental things. And I let it get to me. I tried to recover, but these not-very-nice things hit me on a tender spot, and I was exhausted from traveling all day, and I hadn’t seen it coming, and and and…. I let it get to me. I cared when there was absolutely no reason to do so.
This also sucks.
Then my brain saw an opportunity to take my emotionally vulnerable state as an excuse to stage a fun little field trip into the Land of Impostor Syndrome. “Why are you even here?” I asked myself. “You’ve been working so hard at being a writer, and all people know you as is the person who knows everyone. You don’t belong here.”
Other people who have gone on this mind trip will not be surprised to learn that shortly thereafter I was on the phone with a friend back home (yay time zones!) insisting that I was failing at everything that was important to me in my life. EVERYTHING. FAILURE. DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL. YES I CAN BE DRAMATIC, I’M A WRITER, WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?
I hate telling you about this. I want you to think that I’m always together, that even when life is hard, I always bounce back instantly with my silver lining generator and my recap of lessons I have learned. That as I write a novel, and then revise it, and then write another novel, and meanwhile collect a lot of rejections, I am always just fine.
But this simply isn’t true. No one is together one hundred percent of the time. No one. If they say they are, they are lying. If they look like they are, you don’t know them well enough yet.
And reaching for things that are difficult to achieve–going full-out–is really fucking difficult, emotionally speaking. Not settling for what you know you could have, and instead pushing for what you want to have? Can be completely brutal because success is not a guarantee. It’s not even always particularly likely. Trying to make art out of absolutely nothing, and knowing you’ll be heaped with criticism for even trying? Artists are insane. People with ambitions are insane. We are all freaking insane.
And into this turmoil creeps impostor syndrome. It slips into our behavior in both subtle and embarrassingly apparent ways. It makes it harder to put our full effort behind something. It blinds us to opportunities. We worry that if we talk about it, it could damage our careers. It could make people think they shouldn’t bet on us. It makes us afraid.
Well, forget that. I’m supposed to be working on caring less about what people think? Fine. I had rampant impostor syndrome this weekend. I had to take more alone time than I usually do, and I needed to talk about it with friends, and I needed a few pep talks, and I still feel a little shaky, and my brain is being less kind than usual. I also participated on all my panels as planned, and visited with my friends, and talked business.
I am speaking about my experience with impostor syndrome because it is something that is true, and those are the things most worth talking about. I know that like me, many of my readers are reaching for the stars instead of settling for a sure thing. As a result, many of us face impostor syndrome repeatedly. And having this experience does not mean we are any less capable or reliable or skilled. It’s just part of the territory of having vision and doing big and splendid things.
This weekend I ended up crying in a bathroom. Today I sat down and wrote. Tomorrow I will sit down and write some more. This is what matters: to stare our doubts in the face and acknowledge them and then, in spite of them, choose to go for it with everything we have.
The Practical Free Spirit 
I went to ConFusion a few years ago. It was my first and only Con. I met you, actually, you were very nice. I think we talked about books and Revenge. Anyway, I found everyone very welcoming, and some people very kind. But I had this one guy who kept sizing me up and asking me “Why are you here?” “Why ARE you here?” And it just soured the whole experience. Dick!
I should point out it didn’t prevent me from returning. I’ve just had circumstances preventing me from going. I fully support the Con and love the organizers. They can’t help it if some guy doesn’t like the way I look or talk.
I love talking about books and Revenge! Although I’m so behind on Revenge….
And I definitely still think ConFusion is a great con. This year was just a bit more challenging than others.
“We work in the dark-we do what we can and we give what we have. Our doubt is our passion, and our passion is our task. The rest is the madness of art.”
(Henry James)
I love this so much.
Yes. This. I feel the same way you do, Amy.
Thank you, Lou.
I so needed to read this today!! Thanks for sharing.
I’m so glad it spoke to you!
Big hugs hon. I don’t know a successful person that hasn’t had these kinds of doubts. But when you do feel this way, it’s always good to have someone to talk to. 🙂 Hopefully your friend helped you get things straight in your head so you can put those dark thoughts aside and keep moving forward.
Yes, I had a couple friends who were simply excellent at supporting and gently helping me see things differently. I am very lucky.
I think anyone who’s been around the scene for any length of time gives you more credit than that. We’ve all seen people who were around for a long time as aspiring writers and then, all of a sudden, they had book deals. What separated from them the rest is that they were serious, they worked, they completed projects, and they thought of themselves as writers.
When I didn’t have a deal yet, people always used to come up to me and be like, “Oh, that book will sell” or “you’ll have a book soon” and I always thought they were just being nice. But the truth is that they knew the shape of the world, and they knew what it looks like when someone is about to get there. And that is exactly where you are. Which is not to say that it will happen this year or the next year or even within the next five years. All it means is that I don’t see you as a manque or a poseur, and I’m pretty sure most others don’t as well.
Oh my gosh, this was such a reassuring comment. Thanks, Rahul. I know exactly what you mean about the shape of the world; I can tell the same thing. But I can’t see myself clearly in it, if that makes sense.
That makes sense. I’m sure you have lots of friends who you reassure in just this way and tell, “Oh, it’s going to happen for you.” But it’s hard to believe it when it’s yourself. Anyway, I can’t promise that it will happen for you (although I think it will), but I can definitely provide the second-order promise that people do take you seriously and that you’re always welcome in any writer circle I’m a part of!
Also, I think it’s sometimes hard for people who don’t write short stories, because you don’t have proximate successes to show to yourself and the world that you’re good enough. Like, maybe you’d have stories in Clarkesworld or Asimov’s if you wrote stories, but since you don’t, it really turns into a rags-to-riches sort of deal.
I’ve been there Amy, and I’ve been right there with you in the bathroom crying about being the Imposter, and I still have those Dark Nights of the Soul. I don’t think they ever go away. Ever. I can’t tell you how many I’ve had.
My advice for dealing with the Imposter syndrome, at those times when doubt has seized your soul and you’re not sure anymore whether you’re a writer: Set your pen down. Close up your journal. Leave it behind. Walk away from it all. Go somewhere else. Do something that’s more important. Let the ideas flutter away, get a new job, move away, forget about being a writer.
Because then you’ll know whether you’re an imposter or not.
Thank you so much, Tod.
And…um…there’s something more important than writing?
Yeah, not going to happen. 🙂
I was not at the convention, and I don’t know what was said. I’m simply very sorry that it was said, and I hope you don’t blame yourself in any way for “letting” it get to you. Self-blame can be very dangerous, and emotional vulnerability is not at all some flaw you deserve any additional grief over.
I’m pretty much a stranger here, so I’m not going to wish hugs. But I do wish you well. Thank you for sharing such a private pain hidden in a public place.
I love your honesty, Amy. I love this post. And I love you. I don’t love that this happened to you, though, and I’m sorry.
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