Ten years. That’s how long I’ve been a professional writer. And yet, some days, it feels like I’m just pretending to know what I’m doing.
It’s not as if I haven’t accomplished anything. I’ve shown up consistently. Found my niches. Crafted pitches and content strategies. Hit deadlines. Published hundreds of articles. I’ve received kind words from editors and readers. I’ve worked with thought leaders, changemakers, and influencers. I even fulfilled a childhood dream by writing two nonfiction books: Busting Cliches and Darkness and Light. My essays were featured in Karen Hallion’s acclaimed book, The She Series. And so on.
Still, I doubt myself. I wonder if I have what it takes to keep going in an industry that seems to be falling apart.
The Pressure to Be an “Expert”
These days, every writer is expected to be an expert. Even newbies are encouraged to build a personal brand, speak with authority, and sell their services with confidence.
But when everyone is presenting themselves as perfect, it leaves little room for honesty. There’s no space to admit that sometimes, you’re winging it and barely holding it together.
The truth is, I’m a good writer. But the pressure to present myself as someone who has all the answers is exhausting.
The Harsh Reality of Freelance Writing
Freelancing is supposed to offer freedom. But more often than not, it delivers instability. Rates are inconsistent. Clients ghost. Editors disappear. And now, we’ve got AI tools being hailed as just as good, if not better than us.
When someone says, “AI can write just like you,” I don’t get mad. I get tired.
Tired of having to prove that empathy, nuance, and lived experience can’t be manufactured. Tired of wondering if meaningful writing will survive machine-generated content.
What Happens When the Platforms Disappear?
I’ve watched beloved publications shut down without warning. I’ve seen talented editors laid off in waves. One day, you’re writing your heart out. The next day, your platform is gone.
It’s hard not to take it personally. It’s hard not to ask: Did any of it matter?
If you pour your soul into your work and the world stops noticing, does it count?
We’re told to be resilient. To pivot. To reinvent ourselves. But sometimes, you just want to grieve the loss of what was once stable.
I’m Still Here, Writing
Despite the chaos, I keep going.
I write through the doubt, the silence, the frustration, the impostor syndrome. Because writing is how I make sense of the world.
Because I still believe words help us connect with each other like nothing else can.
Along the way, I’ve realized something: Consistency and honesty beat confidence and expertise every single time.
If you’ve ever felt like the only writer who doesn’t have it all figured out, know this: you’re not alone.
Keep showing up. Keep writing. You got this.
