The rhythmic clatter of the Tube. Usually a familiar, reassuring sound. But not this time. This time, the carriage buzzed with a nervous energy that mirrored my own. I clutched my portfolio. Tight. The pages within holding the weight of both of aspirations and nerves. I was on my way to meet a potential client, a well-known brand, and the stakes felt impossibly high.

The brief had been a dream – a chance to weave my poetry into their brand narrative, to infuse their products with a touch of lyrical magic. Think Nike motivational spoken word type beat. It was the kind of opportunity I’d been working towards for years, the kind that could catapult my career from the dimly writing in my bedroom to actually working with super cool brands and projects that mattered to me.

But as the train rattled closer to my destination, doubt began to creep in. What if my poetry wasn’t “brand-appropriate”? What if they found my ideas too abstract, too… me? The  imposter syndrome was having a field day.

I arrived at the fancy office building and the contrast with my own slightly chaotic creative life couldn’t have been starker. The receptionist, impeccably dressed and radiating an air of effortless efficiency, directed me to a sleek, minimalist meeting room. As I waited, I said a short prayer as I marvelled at the how gorgeous this place was.

Then, the door opened, and in walked… a woman wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with a line from one of my poems. Not a well-know none, either. A deep cut from Belonging, my self-published collection, a line about finding solace in the city’s hidden corners.

My jaw dropped. She laughed, a warm, genuine sound that instantly diffused the tension in the room. “I saw your name on the schedule,” she explained, “and I had to wear this. It’s my favourite.”

The meeting that followed was less a formal presentation and more a conversation between kindred spirits. We talked about poetry, about the power of words to connect, to inspire, to transform. We talked about the city, about its hidden rhythms and untold stories. And in that shared space of creative understanding, the imposter syndrome faded away, replaced by a quiet confidence.

I didn’t just land the client that day. I found a connection, a validation of the very essence of my work. And it reminded me that sometimes, the most unexpected encounters, the smallest gestures, can have the biggest impact. It’s a reminder I carry with me, a testament to the power of words, and a story I’ll always cherish. Because in the end, it’s not just about the words we write, but the connections we forge, the stories we share, and the way we find our place in the world, one carefully crafted line at a time.