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Imposter Syndrome as an Unpublished Author

  • teganfairleywrites
  • 2 hours ago
  • 3 min read

Let’s talk about the very specific flavour of imposter syndrome that only exists when you are:

  • Writing a novel

  • Not yet published

  • Deep in edits

  • Refreshing your email

  • And wondering if you’ve completely made this whole thing up


Because imposter syndrome hits differently when there is no contract, no cover, no ISBN to validate you.

Just you. A Word document. And audacity.


The Quiet Question No One Says Out Loud

“Am I even allowed to call myself a writer?”


There. I said it.


When you’re unpublished, it can feel like you’re play-acting a career you haven’t earned yet.

You hesitate before introducing yourself as an author. You downplay your work. You say, “I’m working on a book” in that careful tone that sounds like you’re apologising for having ambition.


You start to believe that legitimacy only comes with a yes.


But here’s the uncomfortable truth:


You can write 100,000 words and still feel like a fraud.

Because imposter syndrome isn’t about achievement. It’s about identity.


The Myth of the “Real Writer”

Somewhere along the way, we absorb this idea that “real writers”:

  • Write clean drafts

  • Query confidently

  • Never doubt their talent

  • Always know what they’re doing

  • Wake up inspired and disciplined


Meanwhile, you’re sitting there rewriting Chapter Twelve for the fourth time, questioning every life decision that led you here.

You assume everyone else has clarity.

You assume they’re further ahead.

You assume they know something you don’t.


But here’s what I’ve learned in the messy middle:


Most writers are just making the next best decision they can.

Published or not.


The Unpublished Spiral

Imposter syndrome as an unpublished author has its own greatest hits:

  • “If I were good enough, I’d have an agent by now.”

  • “If this book were strong, someone would’ve said yes.”

  • “If I were meant to do this, it wouldn’t feel this hard.”

  • “Maybe I’m just… delusional?”


It’s especially loud during:

  • Querying

  • Waiting for beta feedback

  • Major structural edits

  • Watching someone else announce a book deal


You start to feel like you’re watching everyone else board a train you somehow missed.

Except no one told you there are different trains.

And different timelines.

And that the platform you’re standing on? It’s still part of the journey.


When Improvement Feels Like Proof You Weren’t Good Enough

This one sneaks up on you.

You revise your manuscript and it gets better — noticeably better.


And instead of celebrating that, your brain whispers:

“If it’s better now, that means it wasn’t good before.”


Which then turns into:

“So maybe I was never good.”


Growth becomes evidence against you.

Instead of evidence of becoming.

That mental flip is cruel.

Because writing is literally the act of improving something until it works.

You are not supposed to arrive fully formed.


The Problem With External Validation

When you’re unpublished, your milestones are invisible.

There’s no launch party. No sales dashboard. No external proof.

So you start attaching your worth to:

  • Agent responses

  • Beta reader praise

  • Social media engagement

  • Someone saying “this is good”


But here’s the problem:


If your identity as a writer depends entirely on external validation, your confidence will collapse the moment it disappears.

And in this industry? It disappears often.


The Identity Shift That Changes Everything

The most powerful shift I’ve made isn’t about skill.

It’s about language.


Instead of asking:

“Am I a real writer?”


I started asking:

“Am I writing?”


Because the first question is about status.

The second is about practice.

And practice is something you control.


You don’t need permission to be becoming.

You don’t need a contract to validate your discipline.

You don’t need an audience to justify your effort.


Imposter Syndrome Doesn’t Mean You’re Not Meant For This

Here’s something that doesn’t get said enough:

Feeling like an imposter does not mean you lack talent.


It means you care.

It means you’re aware of the gap between your taste and your current skill — which is actually a sign of growth.

It means you want this enough that the stakes feel real.


And that’s not delusion.

That’s investment.


If You’re In the Middle Right Now

If you’re unpublished and questioning everything:

You’re not behind. You’re not silly. You’re not “pretending.”

You’re in process.

You are allowed to take yourself seriously before the industry does.

You are allowed to claim the identity before someone stamps it for you.

You are allowed to write badly, revise deeply, query imperfectly, and grow publicly.


Nothing about being unpublished makes you less legitimate.

It just makes you early.


The Truth I’m Holding Onto

There will always be another level.

Even published authors feel imposter syndrome. Even bestselling authors doubt themselves. Even successful writers question their work.

The difference isn’t the absence of doubt.

It’s the decision to continue anyway.


So if you’re still writing —Still editing —Still learning —Still trying —


You’re not an imposter.

You’re becoming.

And becoming counts.


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