I once engaged in a heated exchange with myself about an annoying person with whom I’d had excess contact. A man suddenly appeared a few feet away from me, raptly listening to my solo conversation. In my defense, I was out walking in dense fog (the kind where, if I dropped my cell phone, I’d have to get down on all fours and feel around for it).

At first, I was mortified. Had the eavesdropper heard the part where I wanted to tie one end of a rope to a chair to which the irritant was handcuffed, and tie the other end to the bumper of a four-wheel drive truck that I would then drive over jagged edged boulders at high speeds? I was subjected to some heavy squinting and blinking by the man as he vainly searched for the party with whom I was having said conversation. Rather than defend my jabbering, I smiled, waved, and moved on quickly, letting him jump to his own conclusions about my sanity.

After this incident, I kept my talking out loud to a minimum or at least within the confines of my car or home where such behavior is not totally unexpected. I enjoy solo talk – as a writer, it helps me remember things and work out challenges. I discovered that for some people, it helps ease loneliness and creates a sense of community.

I came across a woman in a grocery store who not only talked to herself out loud, but did it so others had to be involved as well.

“Don’t the pears look good?” “Should I buy some cereal?” “What time is it?” she yelled to no one in particular.

I heard a nearby man answer, “Uh, it’s 4:10.” Which made me wonder, “Are they together?” (to myself, not aloud).

They were not together, and she proceeded in this manner for the duration of her shopping.

“Where’s the bread?” she inquired, looking around her.

I stepped forward. “Aisle four, I think.”

Does such talk cross the line into mental unbalance? I noticed a man on a street corner, alone, on a hot day, talking up a storm of nonsense. Heat-stroke or insanity? I’d place my bet on the latter. But the woman in the market was not insane. She managed a fairly normal conversation with the cashier. She just hadn’t mastered the art of not talking to herself loudly in public places. Something I learned after being busted and possibly mistaken for a raving lunatic.

It’s not just writers, loners, and the insane that talk to themselves. Historical figures known for their genius did so as well. Albert Einstein engaged in solo talk. It helped him figure out things and rid himself of stumbling blocks. A Time magazine article stated jabbering to oneself can help retain focus and improve perception. In my case, it helped siphon off stress, reason through a difficult situation, and perhaps provide fodder for my next book. Should you feel the urge to engage in a soliloquy, go right ahead. You’ll be in good company. Oh, but do stay off street corners lest a case of mistaken identity ensue.

Imposter Syndrome didn’t start with my becoming a published author. It started long before and plagues me to this day, thankfully to a lesser extent. But I sometimes still wonder if I am what I am, professionally speaking.

When I took the California Bar Exam – the final step needed to practice law – doubt nipped me the whole way. At my heels, my elbows, the ears and all other exposed body parts. In fact, on the second day of the three day exam, I nearly left, certain I’d never pass in this lifetime. The passage rate that year was 32%. It didn’t help matters that, during the breaks, I overheard other takers discuss subjects I’d entirely missed on the test. With one foot dangling out the door, I forced myself to return and completed the exam. And passed. Unbelievable, but true. Yet, once in a while, I still wonder if there was a mistake in my score. How ridiculous is that?

CalTech describes “imposter syndrome”: “Impostor syndrome can be defined as a collection of feelings of inadequacy that persist even in face of information that indicates that the opposite is true. It is experienced internally as chronic self-doubt, and feelings of intellectual fraudulence.”

Does this syndrome plague me as a new author? (Insert deep breaths). I’d like to say not one bit. I’d like to, but I can’t. But it only happens at the starting gate. It rears its wobbly head when I appear in front of an audience on an author panel. Especially when I’m the first panel member to speak. Which brings me to the story of Secretariat, the champion race-horse. Although he lost his maiden race after another horse collided with him, he won his second by six lengths. Slow to start, it took a while for Secretariat to reach his stride. This marked his signature for the rest of his career. Starting behind, in the blink of an eye, he’d lead the pack. And he continued to lengthen his lead with every step. Now, I certainly am no leader of any pack, but I do know I’m slow to start. I scan the audience members, asking myself why any one would want to read my book or listen to me speak. What do I have to say worth hearing?

It’s been said that our thoughts will inevitably bring either failure or success — according to which thought is the strongest. So to keep strong thoughts about my current status as a happily published author, I carry my book with me. It is real. I can smell and touch and see it. I did actually untangle 90,000+ words and over 100 rewrites to create something tangible that other people have read. People I don’t know. I’m lovin’ every moment of authorship. If that doesn’t light a fire under me, or anyone suffering Imposter Syndrome, nothing else will. We authors are the real deal.

Every other month or so, I pick a messy kitchen drawer to organize. Okay, maybe it’s every six months to a year or when it becomes so crammed that letters and extra wall calendars sneak out the back end and relocate into lower level drawers that offer more breathing space.

Don’t get me wrong. These are not cutlery drawers or those housing kitchen towels or spices. These are the ones specifically set aside for loose AA batteries, notes to myself covering all subjects from reminding Son to return a library book to writing down snippets of great lines I’ve snatched from eighties’ sitcoms, as well as renegade paper clips, rubber bands and anything else without a proper resting place. I believe these items may be of future use, however indeterminate. I shove them in the drawer so I can think about them later.

Why am I sharing this with you? To embarrass myself into stopping this useless little habit of cramming nonsensical items into drawers that otherwise could appear tidy.

I am partial to clutter. I know it. I pile my clutter knee-high, hoping these little towers of chaos will give off the impression of neat, carefully planned disorder.

I believe these commonplace habits can easily be broken, provided there’s a willing participant. A few tips for unharnessing unruly habits:

1.Acknowledge the habit, realizing that if it didn’t exist, you’d be one step closer to taking control over your life;

2.Convince yourself that change is good. Ask: after the clutter is gone, will I honestly miss it? Or will I appreciate the fact that spiders and earwigs no longer have a multitude of hiding places inside my home?

3.Visualize what your life would be like without the habit. For instance, I could open a drawer and actually find a pen when I needed to write down a phone number instead of dashing about searching for a long lost writing utensil. And when guests come over and open a drawer in hopes of finding a notepad, they actually will. They shouldn’t fear misplacing a hand when searching;

4.Join a support group or elicit the support of loved ones. Surround yourself by others who’ve successfully broken habits; and

5.Pay attention. Know your triggers. Most of our habits come about when we’re not thinking clearly. I reach for the delectable chocolate chip walnut cookies when my mind is cloudy or otherwise preoccupied. And I don’t mean one or two morsels. A muddled mind also triggers my robotic penchant for picking up random objects and dropping them in random drawers. I lost a pair of diamond earrings that way.

Join me in choosing awareness, organized living spaces, and eliminating the unnecessary in our lives. This will free us up to focus on what we authors love to do: write.