Dang! I accidentally sent in the one I was still playing with instead of the one I’d finalized 🤦‍♀️ Oof! Still, enjoy the one that got published, and when you get a second, here’s what it should have been:

Imposter Syndrome

“I don’t call myself a painter,” she confided, “I paint, but I’m not able to say, ‘I’m a painter.’”

This, dear reader, is imposter syndrome: a person who has created dozens of pieces, sold them, maintains a shop both online and in a retail location, and still is unable to call themselves a painter.

Many creatives experience this feeling, so much so that’s it been given a name: Imposter Syndrome; and yet, even when we know we’re being silly, even when we know we write and are therefore a writer, we refuse to call ourselves such. Why?

At first, I thought it was an issue with labels. Many people don’t like how limiting labels are, the idea of tying themselves up in another one exhausting. This was certainly one of my excuses. But I happily took on “mother” with my first pregnancy, and waltzed right in to being “wife,” with happy tears. So as much as I may dislike the confines of labels, there are some I’m not afraid of.

Ah, “afraid of.” Maybe that’s the key. Maybe I’m afraid to claim a label for myself? Caring for a child 24/7 makes me a mother whether I call myself that or not. Marrying a person and deciding to love them not despite their faults but for them, makes me a wife whether I call myself that or not. But if I call myself writer, is it not enough that I write?

Apparently not.

The moment someone hears you write, they want to know the names of the books you’ve published. The moment someone hears you paint, they want to know where your paintings are hung. Unlike other professions, a chef can point to his restaurant, an instructor to their classroom; artists don’t usually own their own galleries or publishing houses. For creatives, it can be difficult to back up our claims with proof, and that’s daunting.

But does proof matter? Maybe. If my husband dies, I’m no longer a wife, I’m a widow. If my children die, I’m no longer a mother…and there is no word for me (people would say “bereaved mother,” but I call shenanigans). It would seem the proof matters, the titles changeable. And perhaps that’s what’s so frightening?

If I call myself a writer, I must have proof, and apparently forty personal journals don’t count, and maybe they shouldn’t. I cook for myself and my family sometimes, and I absolutely would not call myself a chef. Because the proof of my abilities in the kitchen is that I don’t have any. If I’m only writing for myself, perhaps I am not a writer. Maybe the reason we have imposter syndrome is because we don’t think what we do is good enough for others?

Who’s to judge? People who don’t know us from Eve, like what we do, and reach out to let us know. For a painter, which my friend absolutely is, it’s the moment your painting sells to a stranger. For a writer, it’s the moment you get feedback from a stranger. I believe, the moment you put your creation out in the world is the moment you are that person. It is no longer a private hobby, but a public persona, and therefore a title you must claim.

Because the thing is, you write one book, and then you write another, and another. There is never a write-a-book-and-now-you’re-a-writer moment. The being of a label only applies as long as we continue being. Wrote one book, published it, and now you don’t write? You’re an author, but not a writer.

Or are you going to leave it up to others to decide? There are those who think Jackson Pollock’s work could be done by a child, that Campbell’s soup isn’t art, that expressionism is too personal and abstract. Good grief! Are you really going to let other people label you, or will you claim your titles yourself?

A creatives title must be claimed by the creator. It doesn’t matter how many pieces you write or who publishes them, it doesn’t matter how long you’ve had a column in your local paper or how many anthologies you’ve been published in. None of those things bestow the title upon you, you still have to introduce yourself to the new neighbors, or your kids’ new friends’ family, or Montana Poet Laureate, Chris La Tray, and be assured in who you are.

You must know who you are so other people can know you too. So, who are you? Cause I’m a writer, and I’d like you to meet my friend – she’s a painter.

Sunday Dutro is an internationally published writer living in Thompson Falls with her phenomenal family. Reach her at sunday@sundaydutro.com