How to Overcome Imposter Syndrome as a Writer
By Margaret Dilloway | May 13, 2016 |
My mother always told me not to brag. Whether this was a Japanese trait or her unique dislike, I do not know. But I do know she did not want me to draw the attention or jealousy of others. To be humble. Nonetheless, she urged me to “ichiban” (number one) anyway, albeit secretly.
This is a hard line to walk. If you get into a mindset that you should not tout your accomplishments at all, it’s easy to then think that perhaps your skills aren’t as good as you thought. You can get sucked into what’s called “imposter syndrome.”
CalTech describes “imposter syndrome” thusly: “Impostor syndrome can be defined as a collection of feelings of inadequacy that persist even in face of information that indicates that the opposite is true. It is experienced internally as chronic self-doubt, and feelings of intellectual fraudulence.”
I first caught this tendency in myself when someone asked me to teach a writing class several years ago. I declined. “What do I know?” I thought. I feared people would criticize me, say, “Get her out of here! She has no MFA. She’s only published two books so far, and they’re just women’s fiction! She’s not a real writer.”
Then I saw the writing workshop was being taught by someone who had never actually published fiction. The ads made it sound as if this person had loads of experience and industry insight, when the opposite was true. I was astounded. If this person can pump themselves up like that, I thought, why can’t I?
Who Gave You Permission to Write?
I thought back to the times people questioned my abilities, even my very right to be a writer. About a year out of college, I met my now-husband and moved up to Washington State, where he was in the Ranger Battalion.
I applied at a temp agency and randomly got placed at a job doing classified ads for a publisher of two military-oriented newspapers for the Army and Air Force bases, and a weekly lifestyle paper. Of course, placing classifieds all day and doing bulk mail, getting my hands and arms covered in ink, was not the end of my ambitions. I wanted to be a reporter.
One day, maybe a month into my assignment, I was recycling the discarded faxes (because this was the mid-90s) I saw a note from McChord Air Base asking for a reporter to fly in a C-130.
I wanted to do it.
At that point in my life, I was extremely shy. The kind of shy that isn’t cute bashfulness, but extreme social anxiety. People mistook me for being extremely aloof, even snobby. In fact, I clammed up and felt sick to my stomach if I had to put myself on the line and talk to someone. To ask for anything. But I remembered the immortal words of the Smiths, from the song Ask (look it up if you want the lyrics; I don’t have permission to reprint and you know what sticklers they are.)
I gathered up my courage and took the print out to my boss, the editor. He was young, handsome, and extremely intimidating to me. Hesitantly, blushing, I asked if anyone was going to write this story, because I would like to. He said why not, he’d pay me as a stringer, and told me to take photos while I was at it.
An ad sales rep was livid that I, a lowly classifieds temp, was going to get to report. Apparently she’d been harboring secret dreams of being a reporter. “Why does she get to do it?” I overheard her ask him. “She’s not a writer. I’ve been here longer.”
I went cold. I wanted to hide under my desk. She had found me out. My boss would come to his senses, say, “Oh my goodness, you’re right. I hadn’t thought of that. Margaret is a phony. You can do the report instead. Go ahead.”
“Because she’s the one who asked,” my boss replied.
The one who asked. I was the one who asked, and this set me apart. The article was a success (thanks largely to Dramamine) and I got more assignments. When a spot opened up, I was promoted to Contributing Editor.
I bet this willingness to ask is what sets most successful writers apart, too. They’re the ones who never gave up, who asked for feedback, asked for that chance. Risked criticism and rejection and the awful feelings of inadequacy. Ignored feeling like an imposter.
Be the One Who Asks
So, why can’t I always be the one who asks, who easily overcomes her imposter-ish feelings? Maybe it’s because I really do feel I still have a lot to learn, which is good. People who believe they know everything stop growing. I don’t think it’s a bad thing to stop for a moment and question whether you are indeed the most qualified person to perform a task.
However, it’s definitely bad to dismiss your own abilities outright. Maybe it’s because I no longer have that boss telling me I am indeed good enough. He gave me validation and permission.
I have to give myself my own approval and authentication, instead of depending on external sources. Nobody else can do that for you. You have to take that power and confidence for yourself.
Better yet, you should assume that confidence and run with it. Assume you are worthy. Like the actor Mindy Kaling said about her self-assurance, “ “My parents raised me with the entitlement of a tall, white blond man.” Since I wasn’t in fact raised like that, I had to learn it as an adult, and sometimes it requires a lot of self-talk. I have to remind myself to walk into a room as if I’m a tall, white blond man and deserve every ounce of respect given to me. Because I’ve worked hard and I’ve been on this planet long enough to know things others do not.
I’ve been teaching creative writing at a middle school this year. Today a student wanted me to read his story before he was finished. This is an A+ student who always incorporates my lessons on how to make his writing stronger. He takes criticism well and edits his work, albeit with some groaning. Over the year, he’s learned how to craft snappy, realistic dialogue and snappy plots. In fact, I gave him a writing award last semester. To me it seems like he ought to be one of the most confident students in my class. “Send it to me when you’re done,” I said.
“I want you to tell me if it’s good, though,” he said. “I need the validation.” ( Yes, he actually used that word!)
“You have to learn how to have validation from the inside, not from me,” I said. “You’re a good writer.” So he went back to work and finished.
He sent it to me when he thought it was good enough. I read it immediately. Indeed it was.
[coffee]
Margaret Dilloway is the author of the new middle grade series MOMOTARO: XANDER AND THE LOST ISLAND OF MONSTERS (Disney Hyperion) and three women’s fiction novels. She lives in San Diego with her family and a big Goldendoodle named Gatsby. She teaches creative writing to middle schoolers and does developmental editing.
Splendid story in itself, Margaret! Nowadays anyone who flew in a C130 would expect to see Mark Harmon hanging on the next strap, but YOU. All on your own. Great lesson for us all, I’d say. Except for the saints and the madmen, we all need some encouragement- that inner seed you rightly pointed to needs water and sunlight, and guess what. You did that for your student.
You’re right on. My mother taught me not to brag, but to let people know what I’d done and what I was capable of doing. I was shy and didn’t follow instructions. I revered writers and wished I could be one but assumed I didn’t have what it took. I haven’t published much–certainly not a book–so when I say I’m a writer, I feel like a fraud, as usual. But owning up to what we do builds confidence, so I suppose it’s worth a little discomfort.
“Assume you are worthy.”
I have met a number of best selling and award winning authors. Nice folks. Talented. Hard working. Generous. They have right spirit and they’ve put in the 10,000 hours or million keystrokes, or whatever it is.
What do they have that some writers don’t? Confidence. Assurance. First publication does that. It did for me. My first novel (many moons ago) was a paperback romance. It was awful. But it gave me confidence. *I can do this.*
But I think there’s something more: a mandate. A mission. Assurance not that I can write, not that I can get published, but that I want say something important. I can write a novel that matters. I can write something that nobody else can.
That’s what I practice today. And why not? Thomas Edison didn’t sit around wondering whether he was good enough. He invented. We have light.
I can make light. Inspiring post. I envy your flight in the C-130.
Uplifting post, Margaret!
Benjamin, you really brought it home for me with this: “Assurance not that I can write, not that I can get published, but that I want say something important. I can write a novel that matters. I can write something that nobody else can.”
To me, that’s a mission and a sort of confidence I can aspire to. Thanks to you both!
Loved this, Margaret, “You have to learn how to have validation from the inside, not from me.”
If I don’t have confidence in myself, faith in my abilities, who will?
Great post.
Dee Willson
Author of A Keeper’s Truth and GOT
Thanks Margaret. I really needed this today.
Hi, Margaret: I think we are sisters? Maybe not in blood, but our backgrounds have telling similarities. I too always wanted to write. With little education and coming from a truly dysfunctional background, the odds were never going to be even. I was working as a printer for a large professional organization when my boss came into my cave one morning and said, “Our editor has just quit. I’m told you can write. I need someone quick, can you do it?”
To my horror I said, “Yes.” Sometimes you lie. It turned into the truth. After a long career in corporate communications, freelance writing, and two ebooks to my credit I still think I’m not good enough. But, gee, I’m a good liar. Thank you for the post–it shows we are never alone in our struggles to just “do it.”
“Because she’s the one who asked.”” That seriously gave me chills. If showing up is half the battle, asking is the other half. (Plus a dash of mad writing skills, of course.) This was wonderful.
OK. This >>>
I bet this willingness to ask is what sets most successful writers apart, too. They’re the ones who never gave up, who asked for feedback, asked for that chance. Risked criticism and rejection and the awful feelings of inadequacy. Ignored feeling like an imposter.
… is now up on my wall. Something I need to get better at asking for help. It’s always been extremely hard for me to ask–even family for help. But I love this paragraph–it’s so right on! Thank you, Margaret.
I really enjoyed this, Margaret. Hey, my brother used to work on the C130s simulations. So wonderful that you swallowed your shyness and asked to write the story.
It’s funny, being a writer has made me audacious. I am fully myself when I examine life on paper. Yes, I dare to write. Seeing beautiful crafted stories make me want to be better. Right now I’m studying the art and craft of picture books and loving it. Last summer it was poetry.
It is a fine line, indeed. I’ve always disliked people who walk around with a billboard of their accomplishments hanging from their neck. Especially when I knew most of it was fabricated. Therefore, I tend to go the opposite direction. It’s almost embarrassing when someone else touts my accomplishments and abilities. But you’re spot on here. We can be humble while, at the same time, put ourselves out there to take on new challenges. My father always had a saying: fake it ’till you make it. While it’s a but humorous, it’s also the way most successful people operate. Say you’re the expert, then learn how to be the expert. It’s worked for me so far in my engineering career. It should be no different with writing.
I like your dad, Ron :) And yes, that’s my policy too: jump in first, learn to swim. So far, so good. I’m still here …
Terrific post, Margaret. So glad you asked.
I feel like this post was written just for me! I am a newbie, and working on my first novel. When I set up my Facebook page, I did not call myself an aspiring writer or author. I titled myself as an author. So far, no one has called me on this, but I constantly ask myself if I am overreaching. I have only published one short story in a holiday anthology a couple of years ago. I will eventually be an author, but I do feel like a fraud sometimes. I sometimes believe others have more faith in me than I have in myself. Thank you for this post!
You are so right! I sent this to every writer I know. I don’t even know how many times I don’t tell people I am a writer when they ask, “What do you do?” because I feel like a fraud! I need to stop that! You reminded me of that. Thank you!!!
Thank you, Margaret. I needed this today. I know I will need it again. Thank you for emphasizing the fact that I’m already worthy and that sometimes all I need to do is ask.
My mother used to say “Fools names, like their faces, always seen in public places.” I owe her for that one, in a bad way. My wife has, I believe, learned a great deal about writing from her teaching various writing seminars, mostly on characterization. Only recently, as in the past six months, have I gotten to where I’ll seriously consider handing out writing advice. Dang it, mom!
Encouraging post, thanks for the great reminder. SO good that you can pass that along to your students too!
Many truths told, Margaret. I have a variant of Imposter Syndrome: I have a good deal of confidence in my nonfiction writing. Indeed, this past month I’ve had lot of pieces either paid for or accepted (with publication and payment coming) by national publications.
But the fiction, the fiction, arrgghh. That’s the material that means the most to me, and I can’t seem to believe any grace will ever come, no matter my efforts. Today I received perhaps my 70th rejection (or a no response) to a second novel’s query, a novel I’ve tinkered with for long years. The work alternately feels good, then bad, then on days like this, empty. Feels like I should give the book an Irish wake, because at least there would be whiskey.
And I’m in the final chapter of a third novel I’ve been collaborating on with another writer for a bit less than two years. It too feels like an actual novel, but then in reading passages over again today, nope, just words, no current. Fake.
Time for Beckett’s dictum from The Unnamable: ” … it will be the silence, where I am, I don’t know, I’ll never know, in the silence you don’t know, you must go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on.”
Going on now.
All I can say is thank you. You validate my goals with this post. But I know the goal, the core of the belief has to come from me. Happy Writing.
Excellent post. I can relate, but I often remind myself of what the late, great baseball player Dizzy Dean said: “It ain’t bragging if you’ve done it!
This is so great as well as exactly what I needed to hear! It’s so hard to believe in yourself as a writer, I struggle with it all of the time!
This. Ohmygosh – THIS!! Thank you!