I’m Not a Poser, You’re the Poser: A Few Thoughts on Imposter Syndrome

Imposter syndrome is tough. We’re all tempted to compare ourselves to others in our occupation or field of passion, and find ourselves lacking. With creatives, there is a slightly bigger risk to this happening, because (just for example) self-published authors can, at the click of a mouse, be scrolling through the accomplishments of a traditional author on multiple bestseller lists, and feel we will never reach that level of achievement.

This doesn’t mean that we aren’t “real” writers, though. By definition, a writer is someone who writes. So if we manage to write a book, then we have succeeded in earning this title. Trad or indie pub is another matter entirely. (Oh, yes, I’m getting to it.)

Since many writers are also avid readers, it’s pretty inevitable that we’re going to read a book in our genre, authored by someone else, and determine it’s amazing, and worry we’ll never be able to write something as amazing. In a way, this is normal. In a way, this can even — hear me out — be positive.

No, I don’t want us all beating ourselves up and wailing in agony as we burn unfinished manuscripts in an 18th century-style fireplace. But there’s a big difference between feeling we’re inferior — and realizing there’s more to learn and aspects of the craft to hone, and becoming determined to grow in our own expertise.

Sometimes that sort of motivation — “If I can capture metaphors the way so-and-so does”, “I’d love to know how to plot backwards, just like what’s-his-face” — can indeed help us perfect our own art.

Competition is a tricky thing when it comes to the arts. As creatives, we’re all individuals, even when we’re in the same discipline or style. So comparison isn’t a fair game from the start (it’s literally an apples to oranges scenario), and we have to be careful that we don’t crap on ourselves and what we can bring to the medium, and its audience.

Being inspired by those already established in the field is just going to happen, and that’s a really excellent thing. Reading Maggie Stiefvater showed me the value in subtly revealing character interaction and growth. Neil Gaiman left me with a distinct impression of knowing how all the pieces fit together. Terry Pratchett taught me that you can deliver a powerful message without building a soapbox.

Rather than trying to imitate our heroes, we need to find what about following their methods uncover our own strengths. Don’t write like Tolkien or Diana Wynne Jones to become the next them. Use the formulas or techniques that most inspired you to better shape your work.

Don’t shame your fellow creatives, either. You don’t have to like every single self-published book; you can still be supportive of indie authors. Just don’t accuse people who have poured their heart and soul (and quite frequently at least a few gallons of sweat, tears, and blood) into what is a massive accomplishment of “not being a real author.” Just because you catch a few typos in their social media posts. Or feel they aren’t “mature enough” or “educated enough” or…whatever “enough.” If the subject or style of their work isn’t for you, VALID. But LET THEM HAVE THEIR MOMENT. Even if you may never read their book, be HAPPY for them.

The same goes for yourself. So your finished product is 200 pages and you had to do all the editing yourself, and you know there were grammatical errors that slipped through because it was getting late and you have a learning disability. SO WHAT. You published it. Random people you’ve never met HAVE left 5 star reviews of it on Amazon. So your sales are about a tenth of Rick Riordan’s or Marissa Meyer’s. DON’T CARE. You are impacting lives: maybe just as a fun beach read, or possibly by shining insight into a tough situation, releasing some pent-up guilt or regret, even encouraging readers to change a challenging behavior or tackle an important goal.

The only way you’re an imposter is if you’re deliberately re-writing the ending to Twilight and slapping a different title on it (cough, cough, Fifty Shades of Grey); or playing Among Us. Taking your favorite dystopia premise and throwing in classic Shakespeare tropes simply means you’re doing what we all do — sharing, borrowing, mixing, and reinventing genres.

So be as imaginative or formulaic as you wish — there are markets for both. Write what you love; be aware of your audience’s expectations, but if theirs and yours don’t line up letter for letter, let theirs go. To thine ownself be true, always. What you love to write is part of who you are — don’t go changing to try to please people.

Oh, and if you happen to be around people who want you to change what you write — find a new community. If you’re happy with your choice, and they’re not, you aren’t the problem. Trust me on this.

There shouldn’t be any need to dive under the covers and never come out; whether it takes you five months or fifteen years to complete your manuscript, crossing the finish line is worthy of celebration and joy. Whether you have an agent or not, it’s all real. Graphic novels, poetry, short stories, it all counts. Your contribution to the world will exist.

So be brave. Be you.