Both are symptoms of an event and a lie about the event.

It is a Faustian bargain. As soon as you think you have IT, whatever IT is slips through your grasp, because IT’s someone else selling you a lie about yourself.

You come to deeply respect other writers and artists who accomplished big feats, because you realize that it is a lie that any of them did anything big.

Falling for that old lie, we enter more easily into what should be entered into only as one would enter a corridor to hell: you go that way only because all the other ways are shut.

This, however, is an earlier-day lie.