I haven’t written a blog post in a while. I have started and stopped about 25 different posts since the end of January, but I didn’t think any were worth publishing.

You see, I have this problem. Maybe you’ve heard of it. It’s called imposter syndrome. It’s a psychological condition in which one believes that despite all their accomplishments, people have an intense fear that others will find out they are a fraud.

Yes, I know. I’m being ridiculous. I know I’m not a fraud, but let’s face it I’m not an author either (yet). But, it’s a process. It’s a long process to go from writer to a blogger to an author. I’ve been doing the writer part since the fourth grade. I wrote for the school paper in high school and in college, I minored in journalism. I was the features editor of The Quad, had a popular weekly column, worked weekends as an obituary writer and then landed a reporter’s beat after graduation.

But then, I decided to put down my reporter’s notebook for a 9-5 job because I didn’t think I could make a living that way and have a family. I didn’t have a mentor or anyone back then to encourage me and tell me otherwise.

Since then, I’ve been dabbling in writing for the last 20 years. I’ve been a blogger, a storyteller, a scriptwriter, an editor, a presenter, a communications manager and, most recently, an email marketing expert.

But I no longer think this dabbling crap is enough for me, and here’s why.

If you came to my house and looked at my bookshelves, you would find writing magazines, books about writing and grammar, prompt decks and a poster on my corkboard with a list of quotes from famous writers about…can you guess…writing!

In the drawers of my desk are countless notebooks and yellow legal pads filled with things I’ve written for the writer’s workshop I’ve attended casually for years.

If you looked in my Yahoo inbox, you’d see emails from websites like Writers Write, Writer’s Digest, Poets and Writers, WOW – Women on Writing and so on.

If you read my mind, you would discover the plethora of personal stories still untold, the lists of people I want to interview, several book chapters and ideas, blog posts and more.

So, I’ll say it right now. I’m not an imposter.

I’m a writer.

And I feel like the universe is trying to tell me something.

Seriously, what the fuck am I waiting for?

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This morning I had a dentist appointment. I hate going because even though the staff is incredibly friendly and professional, and my dentist and I exchange stories as if we were friends from the old neighborhood, they always find something that needs to be fixed.

My dental history is a sad litany of cavities, root canals and crowns. Just once, I’d like to go to the dentist and receive a clean bill of health. Just once, I’d love them to say, “see you in six months.”

But, before I even step foot into the dentist’s office, I get a text from Andrew.

“If you are able to, can you bring me my warm-up jacket?”

Now, I know what you are thinking. Why did I say yes?  Why did I go out of my way to bring it to him, which is the complete opposite direction of the dentist’s office?

I know what you are thinking, and I hear you. I should say him no and just once not run over there to save the day.

But he had an important swim meet today. Literally called the “Last Chance” meet, it is his last chance to improve his breaststroke time so he can qualify for Districts. All season long, he goes to practice from 5:30 am (AM!) -7 am and then again after school from 3:30 pm-5:30 pm without complaint. Every day, he packs his snacks, his swim gear and his laptop and leaves the house and comes home in the dark. He’s allowed a free pass occasionally. And, if I didn’t bring it to him, he’d be standing around the pool wearing only his Speedo tech suit. I couldn’t do that to him.

Why am I telling you all of this? I’m not sure. Everyone has rough mornings. Everyone has that moment when they are ready to walk out the door only to be stopped by a text from their forgetful child. I don’t think I’m doing any significant damage by being kind and going out of my way to bring it to him.

And I had a fleeting thought that perhaps a good deed would equal good karma at the dentist.

Fast forward an hour later; I have an appointment to get a cavity filled on March 4th.

And how was your morning?

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