I love all of my art prints, but the one above my desktop monitor has a special place in my heart: “No one is you and that is your power,” usually attributed to singer/songwriter Dave Grohl.
The other day, I was beating myself up over my latest project. The professionals call it imposter syndrome. I was comparing myself to others in my community, writers with book deals and large Twitter followings, feeling like I had nothing to offer. Writing is difficult. Marketing is even harder. Why was I struggling when other people make it look easy? Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be an author after all. Maybe it would be better if I just gave up.
And then I looked up.
No one is you and that is your power.
“I have been carrying stories for a decade, tending to them like I tend to my succulents and house plants.”
Putting them down on paper is hard. I’m sure that publishing them will be equally arduous. But they are still my stories. Mine. And they are bursting at the seams with everything I love, from fairy tales in space to disability representation.
They are not perfect. But they are mine. And therein lies their power. My stories are a curious amalgamation of dreams and experiences. If I do the stories justice and write them well, they won’t look like anyone else’s. They will be flawed and earnest and quintessentially me.
“There is power in that, even if the world—or our inner self talk—says otherwise.”