I first heard the term ‘imposter syndrome’ when someone who was well-respected in their field applied it to themselves. This perplexed me. I was pretty sure it wasn’t false modesty, yet how could they think they were an imposter when their work was so impressive?
When I started getting a small degree of success in my chosen field, I began to understand. In writing – and I suspect in other creative arts – perfection is not possible; in fact, the more you learn and the ‘better’ you get, the more impossible it becomes.
The trick is to acknowledge this – to realise that you’ll never totally nail it – but at the same time, to never stop trying.
If you don’t try, you won’t improve (obviously). Less obviously, if you think you’re, if not perfect, then at least better than everyone else, then not only are you almost certainly wrong, but you stop learning, stop improving. Also, in my experience, someone who doesn’t occasionally question their work in this way is at best a bit of an egotist, and at worst a self-obsessed talentless wanker.
There’s also a lot of luck involved in creative success (whatever ‘success’ means in this context). I’ve had some lucky breaks, while others of equal or greater talent haven’t. I did little or nothing to ‘deserve’ these breaks. But then, is luck something we can ever earn?
I’ve now heard many talented people say they feel like imposters in fields where I would say they’re experts or leaders. I get it now.
And me? I’m certainly an imposter. I’m more of an imposter now than I was ten, or even five years ago. Even then I was only an almost-was who had some moderately lucky breaks, and now I’m probably a has-been. That’s not me being either despairing or disingenuous, just a factual observation.
I’d like to think that one day I’ll feel like less of an imposter than I currently do, having kept up the work, learnt some more, maybe got another lucky break. But I hope I never think of myself as not being an imposter at all.
No comments yet.