Imposter Syndrome ...again...
The last few days of the preorder period for my little book are upon us. The deadline is Friday; I have sold enough copies to qualify, so my book will, in fact, see the light of day mid-February. I ordered a few extra copies, just in case I get to do a book launch or reading.
It feels weird, and good, but weird anyhow. I'm grateful to all the folks who did buy a copy, and I am happy that I have sent out almost all of the printed broadsides to those who did. But I have this niggling fear that if I have a book launch, no one will come. (I have had this experience with Tupperware parties, crystal parties, birthday parties....) Pretty much, all the people I know (who actually are interested, or who have pity on me?) have bought one already. It is possible that I just have imposter syndrome, but I'm thinking I will have to figure out a real draw to get people to come... who would come just for me? Who am I, really? ugh. This self-doubt is deeply hard-wired.
So, I'll figure that all out later. I can't really schedule anything until February at the earliest anyhow. And all the feelers I sent out, all the emails to libraries about hosting a reading/workshop or a reading/open mic-- ALL of them-- met with silence. Granted, launching a little chapbook by a relatively unknown (okay, pretty much invisible) local poet (who reads poetry?) during an upheaval of American democracy was just plain bad timing, and not of my choosing. So, I'm grateful I got any sales at all, given the sloppy angst that we are all drowning in.
Still, maybe I can generate some interest. I will put my thinking cap on to see what I can figure out. In the meantime, dear readers, if you know of anyone who might like a copy, they are still available for the preorder price. I'll gladly sign books when they arrive. I'll gladly talk to a local reading group. I'll gladly zoom in to a not-local reading group-- if you have a book club, let's do that! Let's do something positive and fun, perhaps creating a momentary antidote to the darkness that is leaching into our psyches as January 20th approaches.
Anyhow, here we are. Us, and Yeats: "what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Oh sweetie...imposter syndrome is something I know all too well. Doesn't matter that I've studied with one of the finest synoptic mentors to walk the earth, or that I've reached full professor, or that I can turn on a number of channels in numerous locations and see my graduates at work. Doesn't matter how proud I am of all of them. I still feel like someone is going to pull back the curtains on the Wizard of Oz (ironic that the last play I was ever in was playing the Wizard of Oz). Smart people understand how little they know (I tell students there are libraries filled with the things I don't know), while idiots believe they know everything. I envy their confidence.
ReplyDeleteI hear you there, my friend. Academic humility is a rough hair shirt.
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