I once heard a story about a famous writer who would ask his wife and/or assistant to lock him in his study, demanding to be held captive until he’d finished the work he’d allotted for himself that day. Apparently, within twenty minutes, he would be banging on the door, screaming, “LET ME OUT! I’m a fraud!!”

I loved reminding myself of this story as a means to soothe my own insecurities as a writer and have used it for many years during times when I had completely convinced myself that I’m a useless poseur who was only wasting her time by chasing this dream as a writer.

Recently, I started researching this story to try to remember who the writer actually was so when I repeated it to those around me, I wouldn’t sound like I was fabricating the whole thing.

And then a few days ago, I got my answer: J.D. Salinger…

…which really defeats my whole purpose because I think he suuucks and, as far as I’m concerned, he was a fraud.

So back to Square 1, I guess.