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I'd been working at the St. Louis Post-Dispatch for nearly five and a half years when another reporter and I started a project on teenagers and mental illness. I'd been waiting for a chance to do a multi-part series and I'd gathered reams of material, done dozens of interviews and was ready to start writing. I faced an empty computer screen, struck with rising panic and that terrorizing thought. It was the same thought that seized my brain on my first day of each of my internships, my first day at the paper and at countless moments afterward when the words wouldn't flow. "They are going to find out I am complete fraud and I can't do this job. I have no idea what I am doing. Maybe I don't have what it takes to ...