by Aaron Hamburger
These feelings have become only more acute, not less, as I’ve racked up credentials to prove I’m a “real” writer. My CV is dotted with publications and prizes. I faithfully show up to my laptop or notebook six days a week. Most importantly, the translation of my experience into language is the fundamental way I relate to the world. And yet, in my darker moments, I am still convinced that at any minute I’m about to be found out for the writing humbug I really am.