One of my fellow authors said she was experiencing the worst case of imposter syndrome. She wondered if anyone else felt inadequate. My answer? Always. And, I’ve thought about that a lot this morning.
As a teacher, I felt it. As a principal, I felt it. As a performer, I felt it. As a writer, I feel it. All_the_time. I’m not entirely sure about the psychology behind it. No doubt we can retrace the steps in my life and pinpoint some key moments that led to such embedded doubt. In many ways, the cause is irrelevant. The old cliché of what’s done is done leads to the one that it simply is what it is. And I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.
I think, perhaps, that if one feels overconfident, they become complacent. When one becomes complacent, one tends not to seek out anything that might destroy that equilibrium. Which limits growth. Regardless of your path in life, if you do not seek to grow, you stagnate, you wither. In any role in life, inertia is boring. It often leads to apathy and mediocrity. In the arts’ world in particular, it is the kiss of death. While the genre of romance comes with a set of tropes and comforting expectations, people (me included!) want to see writers switch things up, come at things differently, wow them with something new. They want a pop of color in their familiar palette.
So, I like to consider imposter syndrome the catalyst to new growth. That little voice nagging me about inadequacy? It’s pushing me to learn new things, challenge myself, take risks. Am I a Diana Gabaldon (insert your favorite writer here)? No. Will I ever be? No. But am I better than I was? Can I be better than I am? I believe so. And that feeling that I don’t belong, that I’m a fake, urges me on. And, one last cliché, you know what they say—fake it ‘til you make it.
