Sitting cross-legged on the deck of the boat, the Viking writes in a notebook with a fountain pen, a compass, a coffee and nautical charts around him — The Hammock and the Hummingbirds, practical guide to writing
Hummingbird, the icon of the practical guides of The Hammock and the Hummingbirds

Why do I feel like a fraud in what I create?

Imitating isn’t cheating

Nobody skips the first two steps.

The keyThe doubt comes from wanting to be on the third step while you’re still on the first.

“You don’t start out original. You end up recognisable.”

Not from a chapter — based on an interview with Jacob Collier, British musician and arranger.

When it happens to you

You want to make something of your own. Really your own. So you wait for an original idea, and you wait. Or you start, you find it looks too much like someone else’s, and you stop.

Why you’re mixing up the finish line and the starting line

Nobody starts out with a voice of their own: it gets built, and in this order — you imitate openly, you interpret in your own way, then you say what nobody has said. Impostor syndrome doesn’t come from a lack of talent, it comes from being on the wrong floor: you judge yourself by step 3 standards while you’re on step 1.

Rule

You don’t skip the first 2 steps. You climb them more or less quickly, that’s all.

How to find your step, in 4 steps

  1. Write down what you’re stuck on, in one sentence.
  2. Ask yourself honestly which step you’re on. Not the one you’d like to be on: the one you’re on.
  3. Do that step’s work, on purpose and without guilt. Step 1: choose three people who inspire you and copy them openly — copy, not “take inspiration from”. Step 2: take the same thing and change just one variable, the subject, the tone, the ending. Step 3: it comes on its own, you don’t decide it.
  4. Write the date next to the step. In six months you’ll see you’ve moved — and that’s something you never feel from the inside.

⚠ Imitating isn’t copying to publish

You imitate to learn the craft, not to sign the result. What you produce on step 1, you keep to yourself: it’s practising scales, not a book. The rule is simple and allows no exceptions — you never publish someone else’s work, even half-transformed.

What it changes for you

You stop waiting for the brilliant idea before you start, and you work without judging yourself because at last you know which floor you’re on. That cuts impostor syndrome off at the root: it isn’t saying you’re rubbish, it’s saying you got the rules of the game wrong.

How to practise

Once a month, reread your sentence and see whether you’ve changed step. Nobody climbs in a week. Everybody climbs in a year.

Remember

You don’t start out original. You end up recognisable.

You may be wondering

How do I know I’ve moved up to the next step?

You don’t feel it at the time, hence the date. You notice it rereading six months later, never live.

And what if I stay stuck on step 1?

It’s often because you’re copying too few people. Three different sources is what stops you becoming a copy of just one.

Copying makes me uncomfortable.

That’s exactly the sign you were taught to aim for step 3 straight away. Nobody finds it awkward when a musician practises scales.

Watch the hummingbirds

Watching the hummingbirds means changing your point of view.
Seeing things from every angle.
Accepting every part of ourselves. And of other people.
And laughing about it.

A hummingbird has every colour. So do we. Our shadows and our light.
You take one step to the side: green turns pink. Then gold.
Nothing has moved, except you.

What a practical guide is for

Trying out a tool.
Changing your point of view.
Laughing at something that weighed on you this morning.

What it isn’t

It isn’t therapy.
It isn’t a diagnosis.
It isn’t a courtroom: nobody’s looking for a culprit.
It isn’t a rulebook for good behaviour. You do what you like.

What it’s for

Accepting that we’re human. And fallible.
Our shadows. Our light.
Taking the drama out, to melt the resistance.
Not judging ourselves. Not judging others.
Laughing about it. It works better, and it’s more fun.

Nobody gets judged here. Least of all you.
We don’t know anything you don’t. We just wrote some tools.

Where these guides come from

Nobody made them up. They came out of a novel, chapter by chapter — in the order I learnt them. Not in logical order: in the order life threw them at me.

What you get, end to end:
Not getting stuck in the middle.
Not having to prove your worth.
Understanding the other person without carrying what’s theirs.
Spotting what keeps repeating.
Setting the limit, and holding it.
Naming the manoeuvre, which is enough to defuse it.
Getting out when the judges are also the accusers.
Listening to the body, which answers before we do.
Sorting out what we keep.
And finally: choosing where we’re heading.

I only saw the logic afterwards, reading it back. That’s why it holds: nobody drew it up in advance.

If something feels too big for you, see a professional. A guide is a tool, not a doctor.