Good Enough

Hello and welcome. As always, I'm your game master and solo player, Steve Morrison, and, like many creatives, I have imposter syndrome. I constantly doubt whether my work, be it writing or recording, is good enough to be seen by anyone. And for years, I've allowed that fear to hold me back. I've let it keep me from publishing my writing. I've let it keep me from pursuing my creative dreams. I've let it stop me from sharing my creativity with others.

But wait, you might say, you've published over twenty podcast episodes and a few pieces of short fiction (there will be more of both, I promise), why are you writing about imposter syndrome? Because I want to talk about why I started publishing episodes of my podcast, and why ultimately, I posted those first few stories here on the website.

Because a stranger on the internet told me to. 

Yes, I did the thing we're all supposed to avoid and I took to heart what a stranger said on the internet. I listened to a stranger when so many of the people in my life, who care about me, have told me to do it, to put my creativity out there, to share it with whoever would listen or read.

Why did I listen to that stranger instead of my friends and family? Why did their words resonate differently? Because they didn't have to say anything.

I love my spouse, she is incredibly supportive of my creative endeavors. Even as I write this, she hasn't said a word about the fact that I'm an hour late heading to bed, and I know she won't either. No, she'll just smile at me and ask me how it went.

I love my friends. They are also incredibly supportive. They read my novels and sit at our gaming table, indulging my flights of fancy. They cheer when I tell them how many downloads I'm at and tell me all about the great things I will do.

So why don't I believe them, these people who love me? There's the imposter syndrome, whispering hateful things like: they're just saying nice things because they don't want to hurt your feelings, or maybe they're blind to all your creative flaws. I know those are lies told to me by whatever devil of doubt resides in my mind, but knowing isn't always believing.

Last year, I became involved in the Ironsworn: Starforged playtest. I lurked on the discord and watched other people engage with the system. I didn't have time to dig into it, I told myself, I didn't have the energy. Let's be fair, imposter syndrome or not, no one could be blamed for thinking those things in 2020. But, late in the year, I decided I wanted to get involved, to actually play the game I had been longing to play for months, and I did. I recorded myself, reasoning that audio of someone using the system might provide a different sort of feedback to the designer. I don't know if that’s actually true, but it's what I needed to tell myself in order to do it, and it worked.

I recorded some audio and edited it (because I'm still a perfectionist who wants everything to be just so), and I opened Discord to post it. And that's almost where it all ended, because that voice in my head said: no one's going to care; it's not good enough; you sound boring and monotone; you really should have added music or sound effects. You're wasting your time.

And I almost believed that voice. I had my moment of doubt and I watched the flood of positivity in the Discord chat flowing around me, but never touching me, and in a year where connection and community were so hard to come by, I wanted to belong. So I pressed the key and uploaded an audio file and I tried to go about my day. I tried not to think about it, because why would anyone want to listen to me?

And then, Shawn Tomkin, the designer of Ironsworn and Starforged, told me he liked it. He told me it was a balm for a rough day at the day job. And he told me I should think about putting it up on a podcast feed.

For all the encouragement from my spouse, from my friends, it was those words that made me think: maybe I can do this. 

And then, others echoed his sentiments. That river of connection, of community, flowed over me. And maybe for the first time in my life, I believed it was good enough.

In the months since then, that imposter syndrome hasn't gone away. I still hear its doubts gnawing at my courage, but here I am. Publishing episodes of my podcast, publishing pieces of short fiction on my website, being creative in a way I haven't been in my life.

All because a stranger on the internet told me I made a good thing. 
I doubt Shawn remembers that moment as vividly as I do, and that's ok. It was the moment I needed.

As I watch the Ironsworn: Starforged Kickstarter go, I feel a sense of joy, of excitement, of satisfaction. It may seem like a small thing in the grand scheme of life, but I am glad for the success that Shawn and his team of creatives are achieving.
Because without his kind words, his positivity, his encouragement, I wouldn't be writing this post. I wouldn't be producing Errant Adventures. I wouldn't be the creative I am now.

And I hope when my turn comes, I will be a light in the darkness for someone else, a voice of a stranger telling them: you are good enough.