In my second year, I put myself forward for a test to see if I was dyslexic. When they told me I had dyspraxia too (clumsiness, confusion over left and right, poor short-term memory), I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders. So many of my battles now made sense but I couldn’t help feeling frustrated that I had been given detentions instead of support.
I longed to write for fashion magazines and my mum and sister told me about a full-time position as a writer in my hometown. I applied and somehow got the job – and spent the next three years writing product descriptions, catwalk show reports and trend articles. Through it all, without fail, the question “Is this the day that I get caught out and exposed as not being a real writer?” plagued my thoughts.
Since then I’ve written for luxury global retailers and landed bylines in digital magazines and broadsheets – things I could once only dream about.
But, before every pitch I send, product description I write or social media comment I receive about my work, dread engulfs me. I rely on those with careers I admire or even strangers I don’t even know for validation, for approval, for anything that may dismiss my self-doubt. I’m a fraud, I shout silently. I didn’t study writing, I didn’t read enough. I don’t deserve to write professionally.
Now, I freelance, sometimes simply shrugging at a “no” or unanswered email because I know there are lots of reasons why a pitch might not be commissioned. But other times, I take it as a personal failing and drag my destroyed confidence away from the laptop and to the sofa, lying there for hours and believing it’s proof I’m not good enough.
As my baby daughter’s eyes close while I gently cradle her to sleep on the rocking chair beneath us, I know she’s the reason why I continue to write – regardless of what my inner critic wants me to believe.
I will always battle imposter syndrome but the fear of letting someone I respect down makes me work harder. My daughter is now why I’m constantly reading and writing, even if it’s just in my diary, to try and improve. I need to teach her that dreams do come true, no matter what battles you endure or what you’re taught to believe.
