definitely<\/em> felt like I didn’t belong.<\/p>\nThe Time I\/We Went…<\/h2>\n
My wife and I worked on a comic book together in the mid 90s, and we were fortunate enough to be given a table at an old Dallas Fantasy Fair. At this particular convention, we were seated beside one of Cynthia’s favorite artists at the time: Adam Hughes.<\/p>\n
Most artists and writers would have started up a chat with him, but…we felt like we weren’t deserving to be in such fine company. To make matters worse, the convention got busy enough that space where we were became a commodity, and the organizer apologized and asked if we’d give up our table for Mark Waid.<\/p>\n
Waid overheard the exchange and offered to cram behind the table with us, allowing us to keep our spot. But…we left.<\/p>\n
Most people in comics at the time would have killed<\/em> to be seated next to Adam Hughes and share a table with Mark Waid at his<\/em> insistence, but my wife and I gave up our table and left the convention entirely. Even worse? My wife and I felt bad about making Mark Waid feel bad about two nobody creators being forced away because he needed the space.<\/p>\nI missed a lot of opportunities because I always felt like I didn’t belong…<\/p>\n
Good Company<\/h2>\n
Many of the people I met over 25 years ago when I was writing independent comic books have gone on to much bigger things. And even though I’m friends with some very cool (and even well-known people), I still<\/em> feel like I don’t belong…even when they’re in town and ask to get together.<\/p>\nAnd I definitely<\/em> don’t feel deserving of the handful of friends I’ve made in the literary community.<\/p>\nThe weirdest thing? Because some of these friends are known for what they do, I fear they will think I’m friends with them in the hope of getting something from them. When mentioning this weird feeling to a friend, he said, “We’ve been friends for over 20 years…I think I know<\/em> you’re not in it to get something from me. Especially<\/em> since you had no idea if anything would happen for me when we met…”<\/p>\nConfidence is a Weird Thing<\/h2>\n
Perhaps the strangest thing about all this is that I’m confident in my abilities. The doubts that many writers, artists, musicians, and other creative people have about their work are almost foreign to me.<\/p>\n
It’s not that I think I’m great at what I do, but I’ve been validated by enough cool people to know that I deserve a chance. And because of that, I’m comfortable enough with my abilities and process that I don’t carry doubts about the things I write. The panic many friends have that their work isn’t good enough is not a problem I face.<\/p>\n
Where I lack confidence is with people. And I think what got me with Wendig’s “I can leave…”<\/em> comment is this:<\/p>\nEven around some people I’ve known for decades, it’s a thought that pops up…especially if I’m chatting with them at a convention, conference, or festival and someone else known by others stops by to talk with them.<\/p>\n
Retreating<\/h2>\n
I retreat a lot. Part of it is because I adore solitude and quiet places: a walk in the woods…exploring new places in a canoe and later returning to known places to see how they change over time…things like that.<\/p>\n
Much of it, though, is the feeling that I don’t belong.<\/p>\n
I can speak at a conference, train people, or write with confidence, but when it comes to certain situations, all I think is “I can leave…”<\/em><\/p>\nEven the conferences and conventions I’ve spoken at…I leave when my part is done. After-parties and other things? I leave early and go home or to my room.<\/p>\n
For me, it’s not even so much imposter syndrome, but something bigger.<\/p>\n
And I need to change that in 2018…<\/p>\n
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<\/p>\n
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There’s a line in Radiohead’s song “Creep” that always settled somewhere deep within me: I don’t belong here… It’s a feeling I’ve struggled with for decades. There have been times, even among close friends, that I’ve felt like I don’t belong. I know part of it goes back to being heavily picked on when I […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":""},"categories":[23],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.christophergronlund.com\/blog\/tjw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7184"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.christophergronlund.com\/blog\/tjw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.christophergronlund.com\/blog\/tjw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.christophergronlund.com\/blog\/tjw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.christophergronlund.com\/blog\/tjw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7184"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"http:\/\/www.christophergronlund.com\/blog\/tjw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7184\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7196,"href":"http:\/\/www.christophergronlund.com\/blog\/tjw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7184\/revisions\/7196"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.christophergronlund.com\/blog\/tjw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7184"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.christophergronlund.com\/blog\/tjw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7184"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.christophergronlund.com\/blog\/tjw\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7184"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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There’s a line in Radiohead’s song “Creep” that always settled somewhere deep within me:<\/p>\n