Am I Even Good at This?

"When I started grad school, I didn't realize how quickly self-doubt could take root in a room full of writers. Everyone seemed so certain of their talent, so fluent in the language of ambition. I, on the other hand, was still figuring out what I even wanted my voice to sound like. Every workshop felt like an audition for something I wasn't sure I wanted."

"There was this quiet, unspoken current of competition: who got published, who was shortlisted for something, who got invited to read. No one said it aloud, but we all felt it. The irony was that the more I compared myself to others, the less I actually wrote. I'd leave class, sit at my desk, and stare at the blinking cursor, convincing myself that everyone else's words were stronger, cleaner, more necessary."

"To add to the pressure, I studied at a widely celebrated MFA program with faculty renowned around the world to be some of the finest in our field. In the second semester of my first year, I worked with Marilynne Robinson, a Pulitzer Prize winner and Barack Obama's favorite author. I became consumed with making my writing worth her time, so much so that the first story I handed in for our workshop was an emotionally stunted, over-polished thing."

A graduate student entered a program and encountered rapid self-doubt in a cohort of confident writers. Workshops felt like auditions, and a quiet current of competition centered on publication, prizes, and readings. Comparison reduced productivity; the student often left class unable to write, staring at a blinking cursor and convinced others' words were more necessary. Admiration for classmates' work repeatedly turned into insecurity, prompting late-night journal browsing and fixation on peers' bios. Studying under celebrated faculty intensified pressure, leading to an over-polished story criticized as lacking soul, which wounded the student's confidence.

Read at Psychology Today