The day this article was due, I looked at the version I had ready to go, ready to send, ready to publish. And then gave it the middle finger.
So I deleted it.
Let me explain. I’m a writer. I write articles for Ms. in the Biz, for my own website, and for my (coming soon) series on Channillo. I also write my young adult fiction novel and everything that goes with that business: query letters, a long synopsis, a short synopsis, beat sheets, post its reminding me why I’m doing this, back cover copy, tweets, Facebook posts, and notes to my husband saying that dinner is being ordered in and not made from scratch because I have to finish this chapter.
I’m also a planner, which means that everything you see above is scheduled. Everything has a process. A system. A rule.
Take the articles I write for Ms. in the Biz. They are due once a month on a Monday. So the process I have for these articles go as follows: write the article the Monday before it’s due, print out the first draft, put it away for two days, edit it on Wednesday, finesse it on Thursday, toast to its brilliance over the weekend (no, this isn’t an excuse to drink wine, I don’t know what you’re talking about), and finally, send it off on Monday the Due Date.
But here I am. The day the article is due and I hate it. I didn’t finesse it. I certainly didn’t toast it. And now I’m giving it the middle finger. And deleting it all. Starting from scratch and throwing out the rule book. And here I am, talking to you fine people without hope or agenda of sending you into the wild throes of soul enriching article reading.
As I was having this moment of “must turn something in” crisis, I started scanning my memory for past advice that might get me out of this pickle.
**scan, scan, scan**
**go to the fridge for a pickle**
**scan, scan, scan**
And then this little gem of advice, that I’ve received numerous times over the years, popped in:
Fake it till you make it.
And I got pissed. Like really unjustifiably mad.
I know what this well-meaning piece of advice is telling me: just pretend like you have your s*** together and they’ll never find out that you’re a mess behind the scenes, because no one wants to see that yo.
Sure I could’ve phoned this article in. I could have faked it. I could have regurgitated a five step how-to on creating systems, or talked about the merits of finding a niche, or worse, taken it out on you guys and wrote an article about having your s*** together that is just dripping with hypocrisy.
On the surface, “faking it till you’re making it” is a lovely sentiment. It suggests that when starting out, you fake your skills until you are certain of them. This little humdinger certainly gets the fire lit in the old “rev your engines” department (there have been studies on how you can actually influence your attitude by faking it at first). However, most make this gospel as trying to hide their skills turns into hiding their confidence. There are some well-meaning professionals, gurus, neighborhood cats, mentors, and grandmas who cling onto it, making it a long-standing practice. They don’t let go because they are frantically grasping at the elusive “I’ve Made It” land.
But here’s the rub people, as my husband likes to say, it’s like Super Mario Brothers. “Once you’ve made it through one level, there’s another one for you to tackle.” Making “making it” just out of our reach because we keep pushing it further ahead.
So what should we do? Fake it till we make it? Wherever “making it” actually is.
But in a world that is digital, fast moving, sharable, instantaneous, and bombarded, the last thing we want to be is fake. People don’t have time for fake, they want the truth (“You can’t handle the truth!” —> sorry, couldn’t help myself).
What they want is the real you.
They want the real you who has no idea what to write for a monthly article. They want the real you who has no idea how to do a web series, but loves your self-deprecating Periscope sessions on how you’re figuring it out anyway. They want the real you who has never put a bald cap on successfully and takes priceless Instagram photos of your thirteen year old neighbor who has come over to help you.
It may be one thing to fake your skills in the beginning when you are trying to land that first client, that first gig, that first shot. But what happens when you’ve got the skills and continue to fake it? What’s it hurting?
You.
You and your instincts. You and you confidence. You and you humility. You and your authenticity. You and your ability to realize how far you’ve come.
This month I could’ve pretended like my systems worked. That my methods and skills came through for me. I could’ve turned in that crappy article and called it a wash. “I’ll hit ‘em hard next month,” I would’ve told myself. “Maybe they won’t even notice,” I could’ve thought. I should be faking it because **looks down at yoga pants, glances at piles of bills** it doesn’t look like I’ve made it.
But then I listened to my gut and before I knew what I was doing I hit the delete button. I trusted myself that I could create something better. Something original. This article may still be crappy. It may not live up to the standards I have set for myself. But I’ll tell you what this article is not…
Fake.
It’s authentic. It’s raw. It’s unscripted. It’s unplanned. It’s sincere. It’s too sober.
But it’s me.
In a town like Los Angeles, and an industry like entertainment, wouldn’t it be refreshing to push aside all the fake for once and just breathe a little? Isn’t it a comfort to know that in a community like Ms. in the Biz we could raise a glass to one another saying, “I’m with ya, girl.”
Wouldn’t it be nice to know that there’s no need to fake it because we’ve already made it. We’ve kept going. We’ve kept believing. We’ve kept trusting in ourselves. And the results can be gorgeous, a little unkempt, constantly thrilling…
…and undeniably real.