I Love My Writing Until I Publish It

The extremely brief window between “this is brilliant” and “who the fuck do I think I am?”

There is a very specific kind of confidence that only exists before you hit Publish.

While you’re writing, you feel huge. Clear. Certain. Like you finally got the thought exactly right.

Then you hit publish and suddenly you’re six inches tall wondering if everyone from high school is reading it like, “who the fuck does she think she is?”

Every single time.

I can spend hours working on something, finish it, read it back and genuinely think, Holy shit. This is fucking good.

Not “good enough.”

Good.

Then somehow making it available for another human being to read immediately turns me into somebody hiding behind a curtain.

Maybe nobody will understand it.

Maybe it wasn’t as smart as I thought it was.

Maybe somebody I know is reading it right now and laughing.

Maybe I’ve been confidently publishing complete bullshit for the past two years and everybody has been too polite to tell me.

Which is especially funny because writing is one of the few places where I don’t normally question myself.