The Elimination of Impostor Syndrome
some thoughts on overcoming impostorism
Dear Friends,
I had started writing down some thoughts this past week to encapsulate the previous year as some sort of newsletter, but by the time I got to the end of it I realized it was more of a journal entry (i.e.: something from and for my private life) rather than something I wanted to share with a public. This is not to suggest there was something remarkable or scandalous about 2023, but rather that it was full of markers that might mean something to me, but probably mean very little to you. Think of it as avoiding someone sharing their long-winded, surreal dream with you that you didn’t want to her about in the first place. Phew.
In any case, a new year is upon us with its expectations of goals, resolutions, intentions, desires…. and I’ve been thinking about some topic I could tackle that connects to the working writer’s life as we begin again. At the end of 2022, I touched upon ‘five-year plans’ via a writing goals worksheet (an evergreen post if you’re still looking to set some goals for 2024). I’ve also written quite a bit about transformative failure, rejection, illegitimacy, and the grief work connected to authorship. These thoughts have been returning to me for the past few weeks. I do a little academic coaching on the side, and recently someone had wanted to talk to me about overcoming impostor syndrome. It wasn’t until we dove in that I realized I had quite a bit to say on this topic, and this is where I return to and begin at with this new year.
When I think of Impostor Syndrome, I like to frame it with us between two guiding forces: the Spiritual Guide and the Somatic Other (S.O.). Perhaps we could just say “Guide” to keep this as agnostic as possible. The Guide, to me, is an internal voice we all have inside of us. It’s our editor, our critic. It’s our perfectionist, our workaholic. It’s the voice that tries to keep us safe from harm, including potential embarrassment or future moments of shame. It’s also the voice that holds us back. It’s the voice that guides us from the lonely act of writing into the public figure that authorship entails. It’s the voice that desires to guide us away from amateurism and toward expertise. In a way, it’s a type of creative super-ego.
While the Guide is this immaterial, psychical thing, the Somatic Other is all those external forces that shaped (and continue to shape) your sense of yourself as a writer and author. It’s your third-grade teacher who told you that you were the strongest writer in the class. It’s your parents who told you that you would never make it as an artist, and how you need to get ‘a real job'.’ It’s your mentor who told you that you had something special inside of you. It’s your workshop peer who told you to just keep writing. It’s your library book club members who made you feel ashamed. It’s that random person who encountered a piece of your writing in an online literary magazine and shared it on social media, tagging you excitedly. It’s that book review, award, brother, sister, internet troll, nemesis. It’s Toni Morrison being asked by Charlie Rose, “Can you imagine writing a novel not centered around race?"
So, while Impostor Syndrome is certainly nearly a universal experience, how we each individually internalize it is not. That guiding voice inside of us is more or less critical, depending on who you talk to. The ratio of external support-to-discouragement that we’ve experienced in our lives is never the same—and either is the way those external forces have reinforced this idea of ourselves—or if our Guide rebuffed them. We all have different personalities, and we all deal with these forces in different ways.
It’s also worth pointing out that just because you have a certain creative make-up doesn’t necessarily mean you’re positioned in a way to meet your audience’s needs. Just look at how mean-spirited some of George R. R. Martin’s fans are because he happens to be a slower writer. It probably doesn’t help that a large portion of Martin’s readership are people who expect a new Marvel movie every six months. While I doubt Martin experiences Impostor Syndrome to the same degree as some writers out there, it probably doesn’t feel great to have random internet commenters spitefully speculating about one’s weight, health, age, and whether or not they’ll finish their magnum opus before they die.
You know who is a writer I’m endlessly fascinated with? Danielle Steel. Danielle Steel is reported to have said she works for at least 20 hours per day. In a way, I wish I could do what she does. Sitting in a cashmere nightgown and living off of toast and decaf coffee and somehow sitting at a desk for twenty hours each day sounds like a dream, even in reality if it’s anomaly. It is something my body—with its sleep apnea and need for caffeine—cannot understand. Not to get all bioessentialist, but it feels similar to reading about Michael Phelps. Perhaps, like Phelps, with his unusual wingspan and double-jointed muscles and lesser production of lactic acid... Steel has sometime of evolutionary advantage as a writer who needs less fuel and less sleep. For the rest of us, we’re continuously fighting for hours in the day to create what we want to create free from the constraints of rent and mortgages and day jobs and groceries and childcare and healthcare….
What I’m trying to get at here is that we all have our demons, our admirations, our grass-is-greeners. We’re also all on our own timelines. What I’d like to offer up is that 1) Impostor Syndrome is not unique to any of us. 2) Even if you overcome Impostor Syndrome, the goal posts will move and you will have new issues to face as a writer 3) This continues until you die. 🤷 The best thing any of us can do is to practice self-awareness over how our Guide loops sound bites in our brain—as well as recognize how Somatic Others are affecting us with their gestures and their words. What I’d like to offer up below is a list I’ve compiled of some characteristics that connect to Impostor Syndrome. Consider this a type of checklist, if you will. I’ll try to offer up some suggestions for overcoming I.S. at the end.
Creative Characteristics of Impostor Syndrome
Perfectionism. I would wager this is where most writers hold themselves back. Impostor Syndrome is heavily connected to perfectionism. It’s the fear of entering a public with a memoir that’s not quite finished yet, a poem that isn’t good enough. It’s that writer residency application that you won’t apply for because you’re not ready yet. As I suggested before, we are all on our own timelines. However, if you are feeling frustrated that you’re failing to act or tired of agonizing over small details, perhaps this is something worth overcoming.
Workaholism. We all have our own reasons for writing, but we also need to be honest with ourselves about our limits and when we surpass our capacity for joy. Workaholism feels like an extension of perfectionism, but it can also be its own category. Are you obsessing over your writing activities or this idea of yourself as a writer that other aspects of your life are suffering (day job, interpersonal relationships, hobbies you once enjoyed…)? Are you spending all day on social media because you believe you feel you have a ‘brand’ to keep up and that you need to manage your ‘second self’ at all times? It’s possible there is an underlying problem and throwing oneself into the ‘creative writer’ identity obsessively is a cover-up for another issue.
Self-Deception and Self-Sabotage. We all need to be honest with ourselves about our actual goals and what we want to achieve with our writing. We need to be honest with what we actually want and not what the Guide or the S.O. voices tell us we want. Do you need to be paid for your writing? Do you actually want to be famous? Self-sabotage includes learning when to say “no” and carving out space for yourself and your actual writings. While it is good to be a literary citizen, reviewing books, editing literary magazines, and hosting open mics should not come before your actual writing if that is what you care about the most. However, this also means saying “yes” if you constantly find yourself not applying to opportunities you desire because you’ve deceived yourself into thinking you’re not worthy.
Low Self-Esteem and/or The Myth of Genius. “I’m too old to start being a writer now.” “I don’t deserve to be here.” “Everyone else in my workshop is more talented than me.” “I’m not smart enough.” “I’m not a real writer.” “I’m not as successful as this peer or writer I admire in my genre.” Once again, I believe this is connected to perfectionism and this ideal of The Writer that we have built up in our minds. Some of us have invested in this idea that ‘genius’ is part of nature. If you are not born with creative talents, you cannot ever compare with those who you perceive that do. This is simply not true. It is just another narrative we’ve been told or tell ourselves. When the Guide inside ourselves is being critical to the point that we are atrophying and stopping ourselves from doing what we desire, it is time to turn the volume knob down on that voice.
Curse of the Luckless, and/or, The Impeccable Plan. While it is true that there are writers who sit in the dark with their stories, attend an Ivy League school for undergrad, attend a lauded MFA program, receive a star literary agent while in grad school, go on to get a Stegner, publish their first story in the New Yorker, and then publish a debut novel that was already a success and prize-winner before the ARCs ever went out… these are extremely rare cases. While it is great to make goals, these goals should not be so rigid that we feel there is some eternal blemish on our creative lives when one of them doesn’t go according to plan. You could apply to the same lauded poetry contest for 20 years hoping you’ll win, but think of how you could have grown and changed in that time period. Likewise, it’s unfair to compare ourselves to people who have lived different lives than we have. It can also be toxic to dwell on the success of others and punish yourself (or them) for a perceived success that you’re lacking. We can only live the lives that we have lived. Part of denouncing perfectionism means denouncing the feelings of being cursed with bad luck, rejection, and failure.
Envy. Let me get this one out of the way: envy is normal. I also hold the potentially unpopular idea that envy exists on a spectrum, and that it’s not inherently a bad feeling within literary communities. If the idea of rivalry gets you out of bed and over to the keyboard each day, then let that galvanize you. However, if your level of envy is a destructive voice that includes malice, hatred, prejudice, or wishing ill-will on other writers, then it may be time to have some hard conversations with your Guide.
Big Fish Syndrome and/or Expertise Obsession. I’ve seen this happen before. Someone is, say, a star in their MFA program, but once they graduate they realize that their competition isn’t a small graduate cohort—but everyone else writing in their genre. If you’re so concerned with being the best, so pressured into always being an expert, you’re never going to grow. Most of us have been transformed and humbled by our momentary failures.
Lone Wolf Syndrome. While it might be an unusual angle on impostorism, part of feeling like a ‘real’ writer is acknowledging that you are in this together beside other writers. Joining the pack is not a sign of weakness. Asking for help is not a sign of weakness. Despite what publishing budget cuts tell us, not all of us are meant to be our own publicists, marketers, editors, proofreaders, workshop peers, book reviewers, etc. Being a literary citizen and part of a community is what adds depth to being a writer—and once you realize how the gift of helping others can return to you—it feels incredibly rewarding.
So, what does overcoming Impostorism ultimately look like? The answer is that it will be different for each of us. For me, it meant registering my domain name (jdscott.com) and working on a website even when I had very few publications to my name and felt like a fraud. It also means acknowledging that sometimes you have to be messy and even ‘wrong’ to grow. Embrace failure. Embrace feeling like a phony. Embrace mess. Be courageous and brave. Set realistic goals. Be honest with yourself about your desires as well as your limits. Keep yourself humble, kind, and find a comfort in the work you are doing and the writer you are in this moment. Acknowledge that we are all on our own timelines and have the capacity to transform and be transformed endlessly.
And always, always, be slightly mistrustful of that internal Guide voice within you (as well as the voices of others around you)—as the sound bites and slogans and snippets we tell ourselves are not always true—nor are they always working to bring us closer to genuineness, authenticity, and our better selves.
Yours,
JD
Thanks for this! 💗👏