I think most writers have imposter syndrome.
It’s been made worse, for me, with my ADHD, anxiety, and depression, although those last two seem to go along with writing. But it’s hard to feel comfortable just saying “I’m a writer” if you’re using some imaginary watermark to determine if that’s true.
Do I write? Well, yeah, I’m writing this right now. So by the most inclusive definition, I am a writer.
Oh, but you need to have been published, says my stupid brain. Wait — I have been.
Sure, some small publisher, says my stupid brain. But you need to have been published more than once. Wait — I have! More than twice, even! And they were all different publishers!
Yes, BUT, says my stupid brain, you don’t make a living by being a writer.
Well, yes, stupid brain, you have me there. But very, very few people can make that claim, at least as far as making money through traditional publishing. But there are people who have done well enough through freelance writing for every web site imaginable.
Yes, says my stupid brain, they have to hustle and you don’t do that.
The Hustle
I am ill equipped to hustle.
I have a problem with even doing the most basic self-promotion. See: the above on imposter syndrome.
And trying to go from self-promotion to making a sale of some kind? I could never imagine.
This is coming from a person who regularly spends money on really stupid things, yet I couldn’t imagine anyone spending money on anything I do — and my stuff isn’t stupid. I at least have enough self-respect to say that.
I’ve also had a real issue with asking for people to pay for something that I think is important, as if attaching a price to it makes it seem like that’s all it is: a way to make some money. Isn’t that gatekeeping? Aren’t I denying access to some because I’m asking them to pay?
And then how do you even decide how much to charge? What is reasonable, what will keep people away for financial reasons, and what will keep people away for perception reasons?
My Failed Attempt at a Soda Stand Empire
When I was in middle school, I started a soda stand on the street in my neighborhood.
I say “soda stand,” but this was Ohio, so it was probably a sign that said “Ice Cold Pop” followed by a price. My mom fronted me the money for the cups, the soda, and some ice.
I lived in a new, upper middle class neighborhood that regularly had multiple open houses each weekend, so I figured one particularly hot summer day would be a golden opportunity to make my millions.
I remember a friend’s dad who taught science at the high school asking for no ice, apparently to show that he was wise to the ways of soda sales. The ice, as you might guess, meant that a can of, say, Coke, could “fill” multiple cups.
I had two friends help me with the stand, although that’s probably overstating it. They were friends who wanted to hang out and in turn ended up helping me. I never asked them to help, it just kind of happened. They didn’t think any thing of it. Of course they’d help if they were there.
When it was all said and done, I think I made a couple of bucks, and that included money I got from recycling the cans.
Part of the reason I made so little is because I paid my two friends. They didn’t ask me to, but I did it anyway, because they’d hung out with me all day and probably even made a few sales. But in my ‘tween brain, they deserved some money as much as I did.
My parents thought I was making a mistake, but it seemed like the right thing to do.
That was the first and last soda stand I ever had.
Value
How do you place value on a story? Or teaching kids how to write? Or getting someone to think or feel?
How do you place value on your creations, on your actions, when you’ve never placed value on yourself?
I suppose that’s what it has always boiled down to — self-worth.
Maybe it’s my executive functioning therapist, maybe it’s my new medication, maybe it’s the simple fact that I’m no longer a part of the corporate rat race, but recently I realized that asking people to pay for what I have to offer isn’t a bad thing and it’s not entirely ridiculous.
If you’ve been to this site before, you’ll notice some changes. I have paid content now. I have a store. You can even sign up for my Top Secret Writing Club. Heck, I even have a banner so you can pay for the site.
I’m doing all these self-promotional things, all these things to drive monetization, that I honestly should have started doing 15 years ago. But I was never in a place where I could.
There’s still plenty of free stuff on this site. There always will be.
But I’ve realized that making money from your work doesn’t have to be a problem and it doesn’t have to impugn the reputation of said work.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to do what you love and still take care of those you love, says my stupid brain.
You know, you might not be so stupid after all.