I was overwhelmed by impostor syndrome this morning. I started out on my walk and kept thinking about that icky feeling we all have creep in when we’re getting incredibly good at something, or that we’ve always been particularly gifted in. As someone who has been focusing more on visualization in my everyday life, I began to visualize a child version of myself. I came back to the second grade me who used to carry around a purple composition notebook full of fashion design drawings. I was going to be a fashion designer. She couldn’t be stopped.
And why, to this day, do I sometimes get the childish feeling when I’m carrying around my beautiful, Louise Carmen notebook? But like, in an embarrassing and derogatory way. “I’m going to be a writer.” I am a writer. I’m over 30,000 words into writing my debut novel.
Maybe it’s because so many of the words feel not great and also like where are we going?
I’ve had this problem: whenever I’m not sitting in front of my computer with a blank Substack, I have all of these wonderful, juicy ideas, in moments where I’m in no place to write them down. Driving the car, taking a shower, corralling tiny children. Whenever I sit down to write, I have this massive blank. It’s like writer’s block, but it’s just writer’s amnesia. Can I coin this term? And then anything I actually do sit down to write, it feels like crap.
I’ve been so caught up in checking off to-do and must lists that I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be overflowing with creative ideas and the ability to write them well because I’m so consumed with how they’ll sound when I write them. I want to be able to let my mind go and wander rather than staring down the fence line.
This month was a doozy, I’ll be completely honest with you all. I’ve taken inspiration from a monthly post Gina Kawalek has been doing, and she calls it her Play by Play.
It’s not the highlight reel. It’s genuinely how everything in the month went for her, and I love the transparency. Vulnerability begets vulnerability, and I can get down with that.
So without further ado, let’s pull back the curtain on September.
A doozy. A giant doozy.
Started with finally getting our kids back to school after Labor Day. Praise. 3 days in? First kid down with the stomach bug. All over my mom’s car. 2 hours away from our house. So great.
None of us got it! A true miracle. It lasted 12 hours for him, and he bounced back. What a guy. We made it home, got back to rhythms. All was well.
Ragweed season HIT. And we all went down with what we thought were allergies. I’m thinking now it was either a virus or a cold? It lasted multiple weeks.
The fall photography season is looking incredible. We’ve been booking and booking and booking, and it’s got me so excited (potentially slightly overwhelmed) for October and November. Over ten years in, and I still pinch myself over what this business has become.
Last weekend, FINALLY coming up for air, allergies subsiding for all. Took a little trip to the apple orchard in North Georgia, the dreamiest fall weekend, truly. Watched the Georgia game. Packed the kids up to head home, all of us wiped out by the joy of fall activities, 10 minutes into the drive. And my daughter puked all over the car. 2 weeks after her brother had what we think was the same stomach bug! What is this!
I began praying we all wouldn’t go down. Luckily, so far, it’s looking like we’re all okay again. Hers didn’t even last a full 12 hours, praise God. Both kids took it like champs. I am very proud, and also very desperate for a healthy October.
Oh, and also we called it quits on Phase One of the Live Hard program. We stopped at Day 26, got a sugary iced coffee, and called it a day. I’m proud we made it that far.
I wrote 500+ words toward my debut romance novel every single one of those 26 days. So that’s 13,000+ words toward the book. That feels massive. A lot of it feels incredibly disjointed at the moment, but still a very big deal, almost feels too big to be putting in this tiny paragraph.
The ice cream truck drove through our neighborhood today, and it made me incredibly nostalgic. Not only that, it was pure magic because my kids had never seen one before, and they were so confused. It was the best.
And in the mix of allllll of this, work has been insane. In the best and hardest ways, like I finished more of my days than not feeling like, “Wow, I’m really exactly where I’m supposed to be, and I’m good at my job.” That’s a huge blessing.
If you made it this far, I’m proud of you. I’m still finding my Substack rhythm, and I’m so grateful you’re here.
It makes me happy to hear my post inspired you. Thank your for sharing and for giving us all a look behind the curtain