Like a lot of writers I often feel that I’m going to found out as rubbish, that I don’t deserve to the title author (despite repeated publishing contracts). Such voices are also part and parcel of my depression, the constant negative voice that I can never be good enough.
It’s a debilitating way to think about yourself. Leaves you powerless and vulnerable. Anyway, this morning I stumbled on an article about the syndrome, I found it very interesting. Here it is if you want a read:
Yesterday, more by luck then anything, my husband actually managed to get hold of a bag plain flour! Yay! Baking time.
The plan was to make eclairs. I got all the ingredients out, put the oven on, started heated the water (salted by then), went to weigh the butter. The weighing scales briefly showed the code “Lo” then wouldn’t do anything. The batteries were dead. So I checked for spare batteries, and found the card for the type I needed – only to discover it was empty. Since I don’t have an alternative scale, there was no way for me to weigh the ingredients and I’m really not that good at guessing.
Another supermarket trip was required, so we managed to get more of the right batteries, got them home, put them in the scales – and nothing happened! It seemed the scales had died completely. Even my hubby had a look – after claiming that I’d put the battery in the wrong way around – loved that reaction, as you might imagine. But he couldn’t get it working either.
Turns out there was a sticker on the back of the battery, once that was removed the scales worked perfectly. By then I was wasn’t in the mood for baking.
So, powerless today, but baking tomorrow.