Does Impostor Syndrome Ever Leave?
In which I share notes on how I navigate the ugly feeling.
A few days ago, a young writer commented on an old edition of the newsletter, asking why I stopped writing. I had a thousand excuses at my fingertips. Work. The rigours of living in a new city. Working on my novel. My several personal projects. I was lying. Since April, I’ve written at least six editions of the newsletter, all of which I never sent because they just didn’t feel good enough. What was I going to say that a better writer hadn’t already said? I never replied. The next morning, I saw an opportunity I could apply for. I’d never get this, I told myself. My days of writing good stories were far behind. Perhaps I was a one-hit (three-hit, four-hit) wonder. I had, after all, written several short stories, some with no ending, no joy, no acceptances.
And then it clicked - like a lightbulb lit above my head - I was (am!) suffering from the paralysing feeling most people will go through in their lifetime. Self-doubt. Impostor syndrome. But: I am quite accomplished. I have done this and that, and am doing this and that - which includes finishing my first novel, quarter ways into the second, flying to Zanzibar to workshop with the best writers ever… How could I still be battling with self-doubt? How could I still feel like a scam? I know enough to know that I don’t know everything, but I don’t let myself feel like what I know is valuable to writers looking to get better and share their work with the world.
The good thing, I later wrote in my journal, is that I have named it. In naming it, the power it had over me fizzled away. It reminded me that this wasn’t my first rodeo. As a younger writer, I experienced it when my work was shortlisted for the Writivism prize and eleven months ago when I sabotaged an important interview. Naming it reminded me of the ways in which I could tackle the feeling. And then assured me (because misery loves company!) that creators of all skill levels deal with it, no matter where the heights they reach in their career. If Maya Angelou dealt with it, who am I?
Here’s how I’m dealing with it:
I’m doing the work. By writing this edition of the newsletter and planning for other editions. There’s something reassuring about getting your hands dirty. Impostor syndrome says you’re a fraud and people will soon catch up with your fraudulent ways, if they haven’t. Your work is evidence to the contrary. It will speak for itself, and hopefully lift your head when you the doubt threatens to drown you
I’m acknowledging and documenting my wins. I’m grateful for whoever taught me to document my wins. It’s an easy place to return to when you feel like crap. Here’s a free Notion template I made. You can customise and use to document your wins.
I’m not downplaying the effort I put into my work. It’s so easy to chalk things down to luck or someone else’s effort. I’ve learned, though, that you can give credit to whom it is due, while also acknowledging the role that you played.
I’m constantly reviewing my progress. I look at work that I created one year ago and cringe because it could’ve been better. Way better. That’s not a bad thing. It signals growth and I appreciate both the past, present and future versions of the things I create.
I’m constantly learning. These days, I’m too busy to share notes on the things I’m reading. Mostly because I scrawl them all over my Remarkable. Still, I’m learning a ton. I acknowledge that there’s a lot I don’t know as a writer, editor, content marketer and operations professional, and I’m obsessed with filling the gap to whatever extent that I can.
Surround yourself with honest people. I’m grateful to have friends and colleagues who can say, ‘Ope, this doesn’t make sense’ about one thing and subsequently, ‘You’re doing amazing.’ I know I can trust their feedback and that whatever word of encouragement they provide when I’m in doubt will not just be hype.
Immersing myself in community. Community is important, especially for creators. No one can understand the angst of writing quite like a writer. Just by following other writers, chatting with them, I know that I’m not alone, and it’s comforting.
I’m not letting rejection or ‘negative feedback’ shape my narrative. Rejection isn’t a bad thing; it can mean that your work is not a right fit for that opportunity. Or that you still have so much growing to do. When I receive any rejection letters, I let myself stew for a few minutes and sometimes, days, before I acknowledge: this is helpful. What I don’t do, though, is allow that feedback or rejection become who I am. I’m so much more than 100s of rejection letters sitting in my mailbox (and I’m not joking).
I’m reminding myself that I won’t always strike gold. Not every story I write will be profound. Not every newsletter will have a 50% open rate. And maybe my first book won’t get me that advance (and readership) that I want. And I’m fine with that. I will work hard towards my goal and take stock if I fail.
I’m trying to compare myself to others less. Nothing screams ‘you’re not doing great’ like looking at other creators, their accomplishments, and how they present their work, and thinking I couldn’t touch the hem of their garment. Some jealousy in creators can be healthy; jealousy that takes the shape of ‘I wish I had written that! It’s so good.’ This might motivate you to create something similar. But the constant fixation on other people’s success is harmful and will make you feel like you’re not good.
Did you find this useful? Share with your friends! Also, tell me how you’re dealing with impostor syndrome. Till the next newsletter! 🍀
I needed this. Checking out Remarkable.
Well said. Thank you for sharing.