Screaming into the Void

The reality of smallness, impostor syndrome and vulnerability

Vulnerability doesn’t come easy to me. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I’m actually quite well-versed in taking all the parts of myself and cutting them up into slivers to sew into the characters I write, giving them my experiences, my traumas and essential parts of who I am. If that isn’t vulnerable, then what is?

But there’s a huge difference between being vulnerable through art and being vulnerable through explicitly autobiographical writing.

A lot of the time, you will find me typing out a post or an article and deleting the entire thing, no matter how eloquently written, because I’m afraid it’s going to come across as false or inauthentic, or—even worse—the dreaded pity marketing of things.

So, here’s the disclaimer: this is not me trying to sell you anything and it’s not even remotely about financial success.

This is very much about online presence. For most people who have had the experience of being an online creator, this will probably feel very familiar.

Trying to build an online presence and an audience is a lot like rowing against the current. Sometimes, you will post something that does remotely well by your small standards and you feel like you’ve made some headway. The very next day, sometimes even within the same one, you’re back to square one. The winds have blown you back twice the distance you believed covered.

Photo by Ben Grayland on Unsplash

And so we beat on, boats against the current, as that very popular novel says at the very end.

But rowing without relief makes for tiring work when you have mortal arms. And sometimes, all you need, is a gentle wind, a little push, a breeze to curl around you and whisper, “I see you. It isn’t all for nothing.”

Smallness in a world where success is consistently defined by massive figures and financial gain, thousands and hundreds of thousands of interactions, where the big get bigger and the small grow ever more transparent, can be exhausting. And when impostor syndrome comes knocking, it is this it whispers to you; this cruel little thought of “nobody’s listening”.

It isn’t true, of course. If there is one other person reading this, then that means that somebody is listening, and if I want that breeze to whisper that I matter, I whisper back to you, dear reader, that I see you. I see your interaction and it makes the rowing easier.

So celebrate the people in your life. Lift up the friends who feel small and remind them that they are the loudest, brightest thing in your life. Remind your loved ones that they matter, that their words, their work, their art has left its impact. It takes a lot of vulnerability to open the door to these inner secret parts of ourselves and lay them flat for public consumption. Sometimes, all we need is someone to tell us that they love it. Because it means they love at least some small microscopic part of us.

And we beat on, hoping for a shifting current.

Mood Board!

As my one reader, probably you reading this right now, voted in the last article, I’m using this part of the article to share a mood board for the love interest in my first Ezra Wren novel.

For a writing update, I have now completed two rounds of self-edits and I’m tweaking some minor details using further research before I send to my editor. I will have some exciting announcements for you in the coming weeks.

Poll time!

Remember to interact and let me know what little treat you want in the next ramble or update.