Imposter

Written for https://weeklyprompts.com/2023/11/22/weekly-prompts-wednesday-challenge-satisfaction/

Satisfaction of a job well done, Mary was proud of her finished book. Eighty-five thousand words-her characters were expertly crafted. She followed the beat sheet. It was a masterpiece like the works of Danielle Steel. What agents could she send it to? This time next year, she could see her own writing in a published novel. There could be interviews on the television. She could give up her job, write for a living.

A glance at her watch; had she been on the computer for three hours? A Beanies’ coffee, and she would be straight back on her laptop.

Her pupils strained against the brightness of the kitchen. A swift click on her kettle and she moved from the marbled surface. Coffee would wake her enough to give it one last look through before she released it into the wild. Basking in the glorious glow of her fridge, the milk was scooped from its ledge. She gave it a sniff. Slightly out of date, it still was drinkable. Was that cheesecake at the back?

Back at the computer, she double clicked the icon. Reading the first sentence was like giving birth. Was it six months ago she wrote it? Where was the capital letter at the start? The sentence was clunky, and didn’t make any sense.

‘I’m an imposter,’ she thought to herself.

She swallowed two bites of soft creamy cheese. With a rush of sugar, she revisited her work again. Was it perfect? No, far from it. That didn’t mean she should stop. Putting fingers to keys, and the trepidation of climbing mount Kilimanjaro was less severe. Some parts were simple, and your lungs could cope. As you reached the peak, the air was thinner. Yet the goal of reaching the top and beholding the view; she was closer to her dream.

Self doubt squashed she finished off her sweet treat; being a writer and even Hemmingway’s initial draft desperately needed a good edit.

‘I can do this,’ she said.