Shortly before I pushed out an ebook (WordPress Plugin Support) I had a rush of panic and fear. “Why do I think I’m capable of this!?” I asked myself. “I’m not a great coder like Jorbin! I don’t know deep seated WordPress secrets like Otto! I’m not an autodidactic trac machine like Sergey! Where do I get off thinking I can write a book about plugins!?”
Then I stepped back. I wasn’t writing a book about how to write plugins or how to code, or even everything that everyone did wrong. I was writing a book about how to submit a plugin to the repository. I was writing about how to handle support, how to document, how to reply to people, and generally how to not be a pain in the ass. That’s all stuff I know damn well, and I’m good at!
So why was I scared?
Impostor syndrome is a weird idea. It’s basically feeling like you’re not worthy of the praise you get. Have you ever had someone say “Thank you!” and you replied “It was nothing.” even though it was hours of thought where you racked your brain for a long lost memory? Why didn’t you say ‘You’re welcome.’ instead? It’s because somewhere, deep down in your head, you were sure you didn’t deserve it.
Mentioning this on Twitter brought up the suggestion I write a book about impostor syndrome and how to overcome it, but the fact is I don’t know how.
Oh, don’t get me wrong, I know what I’m supposed to do, but I can’t do it and not feel a little bit like a fraud. I was always told ‘Write what you know!’ and that gave me the courage and confidence to hit the publish button on a lot of posts here, and my books. Certainly I wasn’t raised to not be confident, which is funnier if you know my father. I have absolute confidence in myself and my abilities. I know I can do things, but still I get scared.
Here’s what I do know. At some point in my life, I lost that ability to be certain at all times. But only when I’m alone. Before I speak at a WordCamp, any WordCamp, I am tense and stiff, not very funny, anxious, and nervous. People get a lot of crappy pictures of me that way. I told the photographer at Las Vegas “It takes a bit for me to warm up. As soon as I start talking, though, I’ll be fine.”
And this is true. Once I start doing it, I’m fine. As soon as I hit publish, the fears were gone. As soon as I did something I felt great. This is true pretty much all the time (except the one time I clearly remember thinking “Bad choice! Bad choice!” and it ended in broken bones). I know it won’t be perfect, and I know I’ll probably have to go back and fix things, but that’s alright.

What is the truth here? Am I really lying to myself at one point in this process? Do I really know nothing? Why can’t I, or anyone, just shake it. It’s not true, and I know it, that I’m incapable of things, but fear and all this stuff that’s ‘in my head’ is frustrating especially because I know it’s pretty much all in my head.
The point, and this comes back to why this is on my ‘tech’ blog and not my personal one, is that what holds us back more than anything else is ourselves. The reason I don’t code ‘as much’ with core is not because I can’t but because I still feel awkward and slow when doing so, which holds back a process which is running along so fast now, it can hardly stop to wait for me.
But instead of grumbling and giving up, I’ve been slowly, steadily, working on what I can do, making it good– no, making it great, and moving forward with that. Sometimes that develops into a patch, and sometimes it means I write a long blog post about things and what they mean to me, or how I learned them.
That’s my truth. The only way to keep fighting that impostor feeling is to ignore that inner-me telling me I’m not good enough, accept the fact that I’m probably not fast enough for the rapid development world, and just truck on keeping up and fixing what I can, when I can.
But this is my answer. It’s not going to be the same for everyone, and that’s why I can’t (yet) write a book about this. Because there is no answer for everyone, or even enough people, to make that doable. Still, know this. If you did something, if you tried something, then you did it. You tried it. No one can take that away. Not even that really annoying inner you who thinks you suck.
Because you don’t suck.





On production, you have your content makers be Editors. They edit the content live (because you trust them). If you want to be extra secure, lock down the server via IP rules. At the end of every day, run a reverse sync, where the staging DB’s posts and content are replaced by the live site’s, thus ensuring everyone has the ‘live’ data. Obviously you’d want to script in a serialization safe search/replace after every sync (and have an auto-backup taken before any messing about starts).
Content isn’t just posts and pages. What if your ‘editors’ need to edit widgets?
I hate the five nines. The Six Sigma Stigma has me wishing that everyone who tells me they’re a ‘black belt’ please die in a fire. It’s not that I don’t think that the process can work for some people, or that it’s useless as a whole, but that I think too many people treat it like an MBA. “I did this thing for a few months, I am now an expert.” I had a bunch of coworkers who did that. I hated them. I got to the point that if you said “We need five-nine reliability” I had a Pavlovian reaction that involved me rolling me eyes and tuning out.
I don’t expect anyone to do all that 100% of the time, but I expect them to care about the things that are important to them as an entity. My webhost should care about the severs not being on fire and serving up webpages. My bank should care that my money is safe and available. My government should care that it’s … Too soon? Anyway, the point is that you should care about what you do, and provide the best service you can. Now, if 50% uptime is your best, maybe I’ll look for someone else. I am reasonable about these things. If email goes down, how fast did you get it back up? But to me 50% isn’t reliable unless I’m looking for something that, intentionally, only works half the time.
I very rarely say no. The two days I tend to are Fridays and Saturdays. I’m not online Saturday, and Friday is usually pretty busy for me. Okay, and I admit Sundays I’m usually out at the archery range or solar (it’s an arts and crafts thing), but still, with enough warning I can make some time. The point being, I’m totally fine with people asking me “Hey, can you be on our thing?” Unless you’re totally hate filled, anti-everything, jerks (which is … surprisingly hard to find in the WP world), I’ll likely say yes if I have the time.