The Imposter Writer–Stop Doubting Yourself

On September 21, 2023, Cendrine announced our new essay series: Writing & Self-Empowerment. And here we are!

Our aim is simple: To explore what gets writers inspired and keeps us going, even when we tell ourselves that we aren’t worth it. We want to open up discussions about the craft we share, particularly around self-confidence, and bring some optimism into the picture. Any questions you have, we want to try to answer.

With this piece, I want to establish a big picture for us around how to combat the common writerly struggle with self-esteem. Future essays will dive deeper into several topics I touch on here and also expand beyond.

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“What am I doing?”

“Why do I think I’ll be successful at this?”

These questions circle my mind a lot while I write but also, and perhaps more frequently, when I don’t write. Lapses in consistency – when the space to over-analyze is gifted to my inner critic – are the ripest for doubt.

As writers, we’re familiar with the term, ‘imposter syndrome.’ Now, I've heard some arguments against this term, and perhaps I'll address that later. As it stands, there is a part of me that appreciates it for its bluntness. Imposter. Syndrome. Many, if not all, writers feel like hacks, even swindlers at times. We put on an act of being more practiced and experienced than we are. We pretend to offer something more valuable than others in our field. We literally make things up and expect people to give us money and admiration.

‘Imposter’ seems appropriate.

I wonder if it is, though. Everyone has to start somewhere. Where would we be without confidence, especially when we’re just beginning?

More importantly, what does every famous writer have in common? The answer: Rejection...numerous rejections. If you’re asking yourself what the professional writers did at this stage, the answer is, The Thing. The Writing Thing. Writing into the Void until it reveals your audience.

I think it's okay to feel like an imposter at the start or before you find your footing, which might take a long time. It's like we're entering a world in which some magical approval system watches our progress and deems us worthy at the opportune moment. I suppose a metaphor would be waiting in the lobby until you're buzzed up to the right office...you're walking that line between trespassing and having business to be there.

Of course, approval systems are integral to publishing—from third party platforms like Vocal and Medium, to a traditional publishing house, or even self-publishing—someone is gatekeeping. (Yes, even in the case of self-publishing. That’s when we become the gatekeeper. I'll wait til it's good enough...Sound familiar?) The question is: is the doorman of the building going to call the police on you, or let you wait as long as it takes for you to be buzzed in?

Here's where I imagine the second word comes in to save the day: 'Syndrome.' Doesn't that word imply that we're wrong to think we're imposters? It seems to be saying that because we feel like one, we have a disorder, which, isn't that communicating that our belief is not true, and instead, just a feeling?

We just feel like imposters. We aren't actually. It's like Munchausen's. We're feigning a disorder to justify why we can't succeed, to justify listening to our inner critic, to justify giving up before we've tried.

This is common.

Every writer struggles with self-confidence and self-esteem. A lot of us were “the shy kid” or “the nerdy kid” and have experienced formative social struggles. Think: not fitting in, being bullied, having few to no friends, and disagreeing with established norms. We have a complex about our worth. So what did we do? We used our outlet—creativity—to deal with it. Yet, in the process, we created a vicious cycle. If we didn’t get validation from our creativity, we decided we weren't worthy as a person.

This is very common for artists in general. After all, art is defined by having an audience; without it, everything we create is simply an expression or a one-sided conversation. So, it makes sense to crave validation in the form of eyes, minds, followers. The harmful aspect to this is making the attention be a mark of your character and value as a human being.

You are not your art. Separation is good.

Although we want to see our writing flourish, many of us established an unhealthy pattern of what our writing is and what it means. If I were to paint a picture of what this looks like, I'd describe it as a chimera of creator + creation, and wanting people to look at us with admiration and no criticism.

Now, I’ve already written a couple essays that discuss the value of art separation. Please go check those out here and there, if you want a more in-depth perspective. Here's a brief rundown:

All writing involves a process of splitting the authorial identity and creating personas. The author embodies different people when he/she writes: author, world-builder, narrator, character(s), plot-outliner, secret-keeper, editor, publisher, critic, reader. These personas create distance between the author and his/her work.

This is probably the most helpful when we think about autobiographical stories. They’re honest, about the author, and often use the first person voice. But, the story is not the author as a person. A different persona was used to write the narrator’s voice; it did not experience what the author did, didn’t have the time to reflect on patterns, didn’t see the lessons, etc. That "I" voice of an autobiography is just as much of a character as it would be in a fiction story.

Consider what might happen if a potter sold a handmade mug to a customer. Instead of remaining at the shop to sell more, he decided to watch her every move to make sure she never broke this mug—after all, it was his signature creation; didn’t she know how much work he put into making it? So he hovers when she washes it, dries it, puts it in the cupboard and takes it out again, even when she pours hot water to steep tea.

This is an artist who cannot remove himself from his creation for fear of it being mistreated. He is so insecure that he cannot enjoy the fact that someone liked it, bought it, and wanted to use it for its exact purpose for as long as it lasted. That wouldn’t do. He has to make sure she reveres it.

To do this is self-destruction.

I get it. Writers (artists) consider their work to be pieces of their soul. No one wants to be rejected, discarded, or ignored; I certainly don’t. We expect a certain care from readers, but when we become like the potter, we do damage.

We are merely the creator. Once our work is done, we step back. Our work must stand on its own. And it will. The benefit of willingly trusting that fact is that we channel the confidence to continue creating. Letting go, moving on, and surrendering control are symptoms of self-confidence.

And, isn’t that the ultimate goal that we all, as writers, share? To let go of our finished works, sit back with pride, and go, “Yes, now onto the next one?”

The hardest part is accepting what happens next – audience reception.

"What if no one reads it?"

"What if I get bad reviews?"

"I’ll give up writing if this isn’t a success."

Writers do themselves a disservice by believing that getting their writing published has anything to do with other people. By creating something from scratch, finishing it, and sending it out to the world, we've completed our goal.

We are not our work, remember, so anything that people say regarding it is also not directed at us, no matter the words used. Nobody knows us. Our work is not a window into our soul, even if it feels that way. (Can you accurately sum up a writer's beliefs, values, and essence after reading their work? How could you be sure, even if you thought you could?)

Yes, our work needs an audience. This simply boils down to eyes, minds, followers. These acts of viewing/reading, thinking, and sticking with our future projects are the positive affirmations that writers should expect. Personal notes with glowing reviews, are not reasonable to add in here. Personal notes cross into wanting admiration as a chimera. They ought to be bonuses, if we do get them.

Establishing the reception of our success is now a new goal. We need to untie it from the first one, and be proud that we've finally become a published author. Getting reads, reading reviews, making it onto a best seller’s list—those are part of this goal.

After finishing the marketing step, it's done. If your reception doesn’t meet your expectations, that's just fine. Consider all the people who never got this far. They're likely jealous of a writer's negative reviews because in their minds, “At least people are reading their stuff.” Getting bad press (or even no press) shouldn’t count as a failure and shouldn’t be a sign to quit the craft.

So – 'imposter syndrome.' Is it a term we ought to keep around?

The term seems to be most damaging when an artist doesn't account for their own skill and passion, instead putting it down to luck or other external forces. But as a simple term, I believe 'syndrome' accurately characterizes 'imposter' as being the wrong way to think about one's abilities. And as a whole term, it has the power to serve as a reminder that just because we feel it, doesn't mean it's true.

To doubt is to refuse to believe in the face of truth. We can do this Writing Thing. So what do we have to doubt?

• Passion keeps us inspired.
• Not knowing something means we get to learn.
• Criticism can boost our drive and give us new ways of thinking.

But ‘doubt?' Doubt is only there to provide an out.

Is that what we want? If so, I fear we really are imposters.

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A/N

Stay tuned for the next one! As I mentioned at the beginning of this essay, I am hoping to expand upon the ideas here, but feel free to leave questions if you feel I left something dangerously unpacked (lol).

Cendrine will be posting next. I’ll be sure to link her essay at the bottom of this one when she does! (Keep in mind, the post schedule might be infrequent. Make sure you’re subscribed to both of us, so you can stay up to date on this series!)

Do you want us to cover anything specific in a future essay? We look forward to your comments.

Thank you so much for reading!

Read Essay 2, by Cendrine.