Tag: short story

  • Impostor Syndrome: A Writer’s Silent Struggle

    Impostor Syndrome: A Writer’s Silent Struggle

    Impostor syndrome is a silent companion for many authors, lurking in the background as they craft their stories, and submit their manuscripts. Despite evidence of talent and achievement, some writers struggle with persistent self-doubt, and the feeling they don’t deserve their success. They become afraid of being exposed as a fraud. The phenomenon isn’t limited to just newcomers. Many celebrated authors like Maya Angelou and John Steinbeck have confessed to feeling like impostors, convinced that their accomplishments were mere luck or deception.

    “Each time I think, ‘uh-oh, they’re going to find out now. I’ve run a game on everybody, and they’re going to find me out.’” Maya Angelou

    For writers, impostor syndrome exposes itself in many ways. Obsessive self-editing, scrapping drafts at the finish line, endless feedback loops. As well as a reluctance to refer to themselves as “writers”. The subjective nature of writing lies at the core of these feelings. Quality is hard to measure and validation is external, and beyond their control. Unpublished and self-published authors may feel especially vulnerable, lacking the traditional markers of success, while even those with publishing deals can struggle to accept their achievements.

    The emotional toll can be significant. Authors may minimize their accomplishments, attribute their success to luck, and compare themselves unfavorably to peers. Perfectionism and overworking become coping mechanisms, but they rarely silence the inner critic. Yet, the universality of impostor syndrome among writers offers hope. You are not alone.

    “I am not a writer. I’ve been fooling myself and other people.” John Steinbeck

    Overcoming impostor syndrome begins with acknowledging the problem. Naming the feeling and challenging the negative self-talk are crucial first steps. It has been suggested writers keep a “kindness file” of positive feedback. Connecting with supportive communities and focusing on their mission rather than external validation. Shifting attention from self-doubt to the impact of their words can help and authors reclaim their creative joy.

    Ultimately, impostor syndrome may never fully disappear, but acting despite it is what sets successful writers apart. By embracing vulnerability, celebrating small wins, and remembering why they write, authors can continue their journey knowing their voice matters, and their story deserves to be told.

  • Weekly Writing Challenge 12/03/2025

    Weekly Writing Challenge 12/03/2025

    Eric rolled Jared over, his eyes were closed, his face slack, his chest perfectly still. He looked like he was merely sleeping, but Eric understood it was a sleep from which he would not awaken. Eric stood up and looked down the narrow mine. It was only another hundred feet or so to the opening of the crystal cave, he could carry Jared’s body that far and leave it for them.

    He only hoped it would be enough.

    Every sacrifice before Jared had been alive. He hoped they would not hold that against him. Squatting down he lifted Jared by his arms and slung his cooling body over his shoulder. Rising back to his feet he fixed his helmet upon his head and moved in the direction of the crystal cave.

    As he moved, he debated with himself. One part of him wanted to leave the body where it was and flee. But that wouldn’t do any good. If his offering was unacceptable, they would still find him. Maybe there was a chance they would understand, after all he’d always brought them what they wanted without argument. But what choice did he have?

    He found the crystal cave when he’d become lost in the mine as a young boy looking for adventure. How he managed to get down into the lower levels without a rope had remained a mystery to him. All he could recall of that time was squeezing himself through narrow passages as he ventured deeper and deeper into the earth.

    Reaching the horizontal shafts of the mine made his adventure a little easier, that is until the flashlight he brought burned out. He had never expected to get this deep, originally planning only to explore the easily accessible portions of the mine. But the lure of uncovering the secrets behind those narrow crevices had proven too much to ignore. Today, as a full grown teenager, he’d never be able to squeeze through those cracks and crevices.

    When his flashlight went out, he had nearly lost control of himself, the darkness around him so complete, he saw nothing. It was much darker than anything he’d ever experienced before. But as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he detected a faint light coming from somewhere ahead. With every step closer to the light, it grew brighter, and he found himself in that room of crystals.

    They were massive, hexagonal shapes, some nearly thirty feet long and at least four feet across. Crammed together into a room he would never be able to properly measure, and that was when he found them. The lost miners. This who had been sealed into the cave after its collapse. He didn’t see them at first, but as he explored the room of crystals, he became aware of shadowy shapes moving just out of sight, catching brief glimpses of figures that scurried about just beyond his peripheral vision.

    “Hello,” he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth, that solitary word echoing into the distance as it repeated itself into the depths. It was then a chill slid down his back as a soft voice whispered in his ear.

    “We are here.”

    He spun around in a circle as those shadowy shapes no longer hid from his view, yet they remained behind the crystals, marring their milky depths with their shadowy shapes. As if the souls of the lost miners had taken up residence in the crystals themselves, offered a form of eternity few would understand.

    “What do you want?” He asked as the black shapes crowded around him.

    Their answer filled him with terror. They wanted the blood of the living, the warm spark of something whose heart still beat. They wanted their memories, their experiences, their knowledge of the past, and the dreams of their future.

    To be continued

    If you’d like to read the entire story up to this point follow this link.

    Hell Hole

  • Weekly Writing Challenge 11/26/2025

    Weekly Writing Challenge 11/26/2025

    Sorry I’m a little late getting this out to you.

    With Jared trialing behind, Eric followed the beam of his flashlight into the depths of the mine. Around them the shadows felt alive with the memories of past miners who spent their days toiling beneath the ground, their emotions becoming permanently etched into the shattered stone around them. Hope, dreams, and the desire for a better life filled the emptiness pressing in on all sides.

    Errant thoughts filtered through Eric’s mind. Concern for a sick child. Worry over meeting unrealistic quotas. The fear over losing one’s job only because they couldn’t keep up. What would they do then? None of them had much socked away for emergencies, the company store made sure of that, offering an easy line of credit that could never be paid off. Not even the homes they lived in belonged to them, another aspect of living in a company town where the only thing that really belonged to each miner was the misery of eking out a living.

    There lived in these shadows the constant fear the roof might cave in, locking them away for eternity in the cold ground.

    “It’s getting warmer,” Jared said, struggling to keep up.

    “We’re getting deeper, the deeper we go the warmer it will get. I did some reading on these mines. Did you know the miners worked in company towns that made sure they could never escape their job?”

    “That sounds horrible,” Jared responded.

    “That’s the way things were back then. Families were indebted to the owners of the mine for everything. Every week their rent and whatever they purchased at the company store were deducted from their pay. They didn’t have much left over, but they still pooled what they had left to build a schoolhouse and pay a teacher hoping their children would grow up and escape the life they were leading.”

    “I’m glad it’s not like that anymore,” Jared said.

    Eric nodded in response as they reached the end of the passage where a slight ramp took them down to the next level. Reaching the bottom of the ramp Eric heard what sounded like picks working the mine somewhere in the emptiness ahead. The sound was accompanied by soft voices murmuring in the shadows and he imagined a crew of men working by candlelight in the shadows ahead.

    Once again that soft voice whispered in his ear. Beware of friends who tell half-truths. A chilled breath tickled his earlobe.

    Eric spun around on Jared who was several feet behind him, his hand closed in a fist.

    “Why do you keep fucking with me?” He shouted as he stalked towards Jared who cowered from his approach.

    Only a liar would be afraid, the thought whispered through his mind as he closed with Jared who held up his hands to protect himself. His defensive posture only enraged him more and he lashed out with a right cross that sent Jared falling to the floor.

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about?” Jared said as he tried to get back to his feet.

    Eric hit him again, hard, and Jared dropped back to the floor where he remained still.

    Jared stood over him, his hand opening and closing as the anger he’d felt slowly drained away. When reason reasserted itself, he realized what he had done and dropped to his knees next to Jared’s prone figure.

    “I’m sorry man, I don’t know what came over me,” he said as he ran his hand up and down Jared’s back, searching for signs of life. He had no idea how to take a person’s pulse and was filled with horrifying loneliness as he struggled to wake his friend up.

    To be continued!

  • Weekly Writing Challenge 11/19/2025 Hell Hole.

    Weekly Writing Challenge 11/19/2025 Hell Hole.

    The story continues.

    “I didn’t say anything,” Jared responded from the emptiness below. Eric shrugged as he dropped another ten feet. Once again, as his feet came to rest against the wall of the shaft he heard a faint whisper. It was as if someone were standing right behind him, whispering in his ear, yet the words remained unintelligible, and his mind nibbled at them as he tried to decipher what was said. He had even felt a chilled breath against the sweaty flesh of his neck as ghostly fingers skipped along his spine.

    “Are you fucking with me?” Eric said, He was certain Jared was somehow messing with him, though it made little sense how he was doing it. After all Eric was still nearly thirty feet above the floor where Jared waited. He’d find out in time though, when the little prick realized what was about to happen and would do anything in his power to stop the inevitable.

    He dropped another ten feet and this time the voice in his ear was as clear as a bell, chilled breath washing over his earlobe as the whispered words filled him with dread.

    Beware of friends who tell half-truths.

    He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as a cold sweat broke across his arms. He glanced back at Jared, still waiting at the bottom of the shaft. It had to be him. Eric kicked out and dropped the remaining twelve feet to where Jared waited. 

    “That was so cool,” Jared said, slapping Eric on the back.

    Eric turned on Jared with a voice that promised violence. “Why are you fucking with me bro?”

    “What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything,” Jared said as he backed away with his hands up to defend himself.

    “I know what you’re doing, throwing your voice like that, messing with me while I was coming down.” Even as then words left his mouth, he realized how crazy they sounded. He struggled to calm himself down, aware that if he did anything stupid to upset Jared he might leave, then what would he do?

    They’d take him for sure. There was no loyalty in death, the normal constraints of living were stripped away when one stepped across that narrow divide. Certainly promises had been made, and he had so far kept up his end of the bargain, but it was there all loyalty ended. The moment he faltered and failed to do as he promised, they would come for him, and he shuddered at the thought.

    “I’m sorry, man, I don’t know what got into me,’ Eric said as he crossed to Jared with a smile on his face, his hand extended.

    Jared shook his hand, with relief flooding his features. “You scared me there for a minute, I thought for sure you were going to leave me down here.”

    “I wouldn’t do that to you bro, I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately, you know with Jessica talking about getting more serious, and with us leaving for college in the fall. It’s just been a lot to take in. I thought coming here today would help me put it all behind me for a bit.”

    “Wow, man, I didn’t know you and Jess were getting that serious, that’s gotta be a big step.”

    Eric nodded, a slight smile playing at the corners of his lips, while relief filled him with a small measure of peace. It would be over soon, and he could go back to being just a stupid jock, until the next time they called.

    To be continued!

    If you’d like to go back to the beginning to see the whole story go here: Hell Hole.

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  • Weekly Writing Challenge 11/05/2025

    Weekly Writing Challenge 11/05/2025

    Eric took a moment to read through the names, stopping when he came to a familiar one. Joshua Watkins. Jared’s last name was Watkins. The connection sent a chill across the flesh of his arms, and he brushed it off. It was obviously just a coincidence.

    He turned to Jared who stood right beside him. “Did you have any relatives who worked in this mine?”

    “I don’t think so,” Jared replied. He stepped around Eric to look at the plaque, the beam of the flashlight stopping on the name in question. He shook his head. “It doesn’t ring any bells.”

    Eric shrugged as he turned away from the plaque and approached the shaft at the back of the mine. This was how they would get down to the natural cave. Someone in the past had left a rope to make the descent easier, but Eric chose to use his own. He didn’t know how long the other rope had been in place, and with the amount of moisture present in the mine he wasn’t sure how sturdy it would be. Halfway down would be a bad time to find out it couldn’t hold him. Using the pinions already in place he secured his own rope and tossed the bag containing it into the black depths below. After a few seconds the sound of the bag hitting the bottom came to him.

    According to his map once they reached the lower level it would get a lot easier as there were ramps built into the interconnected shafts that would allow them to walk down to the cave. Once they were done they would use an ascender for climb back up the rope.

    “Are you ready for this?” Eric asked as he turned to look at Jared.

    Jared nodded, but Eric could tell by the expression on his face he wasn’t really ready. They would have to rappel down to the next level that was only fifty feel below.

    “I don’t know man, I mean I know you taught me how to do this, but it’s so dark down there.”

    “You’ll have the light on your helmet, as long as you don’t get in a hurry everything will be all right.”

    They had rappelled several times from a nearby cliff and Eric had proven to be adept at doing so.

    “I know, I need to quit being such a baby and just get it over with,” Eric said. He stepped up to the lip of the shaft and after turning on his light he peered over the edge. “It doesn’t look too bad, but I’ll need your help hooking up, I want to make sure I do it right.”

    “No problem brother, let’s get you set up.”

    Eric turned his back to the shaft and Jared hooked the rope through the brake bar rack attached to the front of his harness. Once they were done Jared held onto Eric while he carefully added his weight to the rope.

    “This doesn’t seem too bad.”

    “Just remember, lift the lever to speed up and push it down to slow your descent.”

    Eric nodded then pushed off the lip while lifting the friction bar. He dropped from sight with an exhilarating shout and Jared looked over the edge to watch as he descended. In a matter of moments Eric reached the bottom and looked up at Jared, momentarily blinding him with his headlight.

    “Are you good?”

    “I’m good man, I’m off the rope, come on down. This is great.”

    Jared turned and wound the rope through his own rack and stepped off the edge. He stepped off the edge and dropped about twelve feet before swinging back to the wall and bringing down the bar to stop him. As he did he heard someone talking below him.

    “What did you say?” He shouted.

    To be continued!