I recently posted about one day seeing my book on a shelf. “One can dream, can’t he?” It was meant to be a light, half-joking wink. But the truth is, there’s always that moment after I post something like that where I think, What if this is embarrassing? What if this is delusional? What exactly is the line between ambition and delusion?

There’s a thin line between believing in yourself and wildly overestimating your importance… I’m not always sure which side I’m on.

Some days I feel steady, disciplined, capable. I sit down and work, to write sentences that turn into paragraphs that turn into books. I convince myself that if I just keep stacking these days on top of each other, something worthwhile will eventually come of it. 

Other days, like today, I just feel messy, exposed, unlovable. Like maybe this whole thing is just a public display of ego parading as “creative pursuit.”

Ambition sounds noble when it works. Before it works, it just looks like a guy talking about a thing that hasn’t happened yet. And the internet doesn’t easily distinguish between vision and vanity.

There’s a voice in my head that says, Who do you think you are? There are better writers, smarter people, more disciplined artists. There are many people who deserve it more than you do.

And then there’s another voice, quieter, but stubborn, that says, maybe being deserving has nothing to do with it. Maybe the only real difference between ambition and delusion is whether you’re willing to do the work when you don’t feel special. 

Because I don’t feel special today. I feel like someone with a keyboard and an idea and an uncomfortable amount of doubt.

But I’m still here, still writing, still risking looking ridiculous. Maybe delusion is thinking the world owes you something. Maybe ambition is just showing up again tomorrow, even when you feel small.

I don’t know which label history will assign to me.