In one week, I will be lucky, blessed, honored enough to be here ⬆︎.
And I know I’ll be thinking, “What have I done?” Because Imposter Syndrome is already rearing its ugly head. (Hello, old friend!) Even now I can clearly envision my anxiety ramping up each mile I drive toward this beautiful chateau. (Yes, I’m driving. Don’t you also rent a car in a foreign country and have at it?)
I’m certain that I don’t belong there. There’s a an IG group of all the participants, and I’ve checked out their Instas. Everyone else is so talented, so accomplished, and looks so polished while doing their art…and I’m just me–the person who relishes wearing sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt, eating raw cookie dough while doing savage things to my characters. On a good day I’m a mid-list author not even with one of the big five.
Now, I’m not seeking praise. I’m simply explaining my thought process, and TBH, praise won’t convince me anyway because you’re just being kind. That’s how Imposter Syndrome works, you know.
This isn’t a new phenomena for me. I felt much the same back in 2013 when I went to the Isle of Man on an NEH Grant. Those people were all way smarter than me and maybe even better teachers than me.
Except conversation later revealed that most of us were thinking the same. No one thought they belonged there, and that did mollify me a little. (Imposter Syndrome is a permanent condition.)
I’ve come to the conclusion that this discomfort, this shaking of my ego is good for me (and might be good for you, too). As adults we get so comfortable in our lives, our little niches where we are experts and know everything. Knowing nothing and being a tiny fish in a big pond challenged me in good ways. Humbling? Yes. But soul enriching, too.
In the end, I learned so much in 2013 and made genuine, destined to be lifelong friends. My hope is that this time at Chateau Orquevaux will be much the same. If nothing else, I’ll have two weeks to work in a supportive environment (Not that I’m not at home. It’s just different in an artsy commune sort of atmosphere. I hope.) And I won’t have to cook. Just write.
If I can focus on one project. (LOL. Like that’s gonna happen.)
Beulah and Falon and the others I have met online have been amazing so far. It’s up to me to pack non-ratty t-shirts and new real pants and leave my cookie dough at home and embark on another new adventure.
Imposter or not, here I go. I’ll keep you updated.
D. S. Dehel 