Mathilda's Plumes & Pixels

Today, I’m exploring overcoming impostor syndrome in writing in my first open journal entry. It’s a journey of doubt and discovery.

A New Adventure: Building My Space

For the past fifteen days, I’ve been building this blog—literally. However, I’m no expert in code—JS, CSS, HTML, it’s all a mystery to me. Nevertheless, this space had to exist. In addition, it was a necessity: a place to share my writing, my thoughts, unfiltered.

Why now? Because this is the first time I’m opening my journal to others. Before, it was all private. But I told myself it was time to set the foundation, to explain who I am and why I write.

Why I Write: A Daily and Essential Habit

I write every day. For all sorts of reasons:

• To clarify my ideas, like a personal brainstorming session.
• To take notes while learning—right now, I’m tackling Japanese.
• To reflect on the nature of things or to create stories. At the moment, I’m working on my novel The Green Base.
• For this blog, of course, or even to jot down questions for AIs like Claude.
• To build myself, quite simply: notes on everything and nothing, verbal sketches.

I write far more than I speak. It’s my way of being in the world. It’s not that I write “well”—I’ve never known writer’s block. It’s just… me. Writing is like breathing.

My Identity: A Teacher of Written Language

I’m a language teacher. People often imagine language teachers as talkative, leading lively conversations. But not me. I’m a teacher of written language. It’s less glamorous, perhaps, but it’s what makes me tick: producing text, like sketching a drawing.

I love the pedagogy of writing—how to structure ideas, how to make a thought readable. And I’ve decided to share that passion here, on this blog. But, well, it’s easier to write than to do…

Impostor Syndrome: The Myth of Perfect Writing

Here’s the core: doubt. Moreover, a myth surrounds writing. We see it as exclusive, for geniuses with a polished style. Consequently, we feel like impostors early on. Thus, we self-censor due to high standards.

But is that true? I don’t think “great writers” are snobs. It’s us, the text producers, who create imaginary barriers. In my head, it goes like this:

• I want to write “well” (because I assume I don’t write well).
• Since my style isn’t “academic” or poetic enough, I tell myself I don’t have the right to write for others.
• So, for years, I’ve only written for myself.

It’s humbling to admit: I can’t speak for everyone, but this is what I feel. Does it resonate with you?

The Role of School: A Glaring Gap in Teaching Writing

School plays a huge role in this. In my case, French teachers graded my essays with comments like “too heavy,” “poorly said,” “needs development.” Okay, but how? Moreover, they pointed out flaws. Yet, they didn’t teach me how to write better.

We often hear: “To learn to write, read a lot.” But no! It’s like saying, “To speak English, listen a lot.” Input helps with vocabulary, yet writing needs practice. It’s developed through:

• Specific exercises.
• Real writing tasks (like journals, essays, stories).
• Clear tools and advice.

Our education system lacks this. We’re judged, not taught. Thus, we end with mental blocks, thinking writing is a gift.

My Commitment: Breaking Barriers and Creating Tools

Today, I’ve decided to try. Therefore, I want to create tools to improve writing, whatever its purpose (journal, notes, stories…). The goal? To break down those mental barriers. In addition, just write, and find ways to make our unique thoughts readable to others.

And no, it’s not about talent. You’re not born a writer—you become one. Life and experiences shape us. To be a writer, you just need something to say. That’s it. Every voice is unique, every hand translates its world. And every hand deserves to be read.

My Personal Struggle: Moving Forward Despite Doubt

I sound confident, don’t I? But impostor syndrome hides in every line. I’m a literature teacher, which adds pressure! Yet, I keep fighting. This morning, I’m determined—I won’t back down. Now, I share messy thoughts, like a message in a bottle. They’ll find their way.