I'm a Fraud
I’m not a writer. I’m a fraud, a sham, a chartitan. A jack of all trades, master of none. I feel these things deeply as I read the works of the fellow members of my writing group. I feel them deeply as I walk around in my skin every day. My inner critic is loud. He is unscrupulous and harsh. He doesn’t limit himself to a simple critique of my writing either, he shows up in my day to day life. Lately I’ve become more aware of him. Before it was just a quiet voice that whispered in my ear. He talks all the time! His voice background noise, static that I could tune into whenever I wanted. It’s his right to address any part of me that he would like, talking about my appearance, my skills, my work, my hobbies, my weight. Lately I’ve been addressing this voice, recognising him for what he is, a naysayer, a cynic, my harshest judge. A asked my husband what his inner critic sounded like after he had commented about a p...