Do You Ever Feel Like a Fraud?
In my case, that notion strikes as powerfully as John Henry's hammer every time I begin to write. But do you know when it strikes me most damningly? In those moments of inconsistency when I find myself staring in disbelief at something I have written, attempting to reconnect with it, yet finding ZERO recognition of ever having produced those words.
Oh, I’ll remember having written them, obviously, but I will be entirely unable to slide back into the mental space that permitted me to produce them in the first place. It’s extremely disconcerting.
I mean, if I do possess even the most modest talent or ability, shouldn’t I be able to continue constructing a loosely packed castle erected—BY ME—in my own sandbox? True, my thinky-pudding is a bit runny and sour, whereas I am sure all of you are armed with cutting edge bio-computers. Still, I sit there wondering what moderately competent ass has slid in under cover of mindfulness and laid in a measure of admirable prose.
And how can he be better than me? I feel like an exposed, old fraud.
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Ken Bennett
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Do You Ever Feel Like a Fraud?
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