You’d be lying to say you’ve not judged a piece of art. We all assess the creative output of others, with varying degrees of criticism and appreciation.

Be it a painting, photograph, film, or essay, the person sharing it is likely to notice how you feel, one way or the other. They’ll know it’s coming, the judgment or the acceptance. It is from that anticipation that comes Imposter Syndrome.

Despite being a seemingly universal feeling, Imposter Syndrome doesn’t impose its effect equally. Depending on who you are and what you’re sharing, it can overwhelm or be wholly absent.

This is all to say, I feel very uncomfortable when sharing something I’ve written. Through years of sharing my creative output, be it music, art, or video, Imposter Syndrome has certainly made itself known. However, the degree to which it manifest’s itself upon the prospect of sharing my writing, far outweighs anything else.

Reading requires more than a passive glance, it imposes upon both the reader’s time and their full attention. I’m not making audiobooks to be listened to while doing the dishes, anything I write would require active engagement to consume.

Who am I to impose upon others with my ideas and stray thoughts?

Despite that, I’ve decided to force myself not to care about that question. So, for what it’s worth, I’ll be putting together the odd word or two in this space. Today I’m thinking about Imposter Syndrome, another day it’ll be something else.