The reading went well; I fooled them again

I did a reading in a nice neighborhood bookstore on Saturday and it seemed to go well. I say "seemed" because, well, nobody threw anything at me or screamed "YOU'RE NOT DEAN KOONTZ!" or started vomiting. On the other hand, neither did anyone proclaim their love for Channel Blue nor offer me a bag of gold Krugerrands to write a sequel. So, in my mind, that is a reading that seemed to go well.

The truth is, I felt like an imposter the entire time. This is not a unique feeling. I also have it when I go to work and when I go home. But I especially have it when I'm standing at a podium as an "author" answering questions about my book. Not because I don't know the answers, but because I'm always waiting for someone to come running in and say, "You think you're an author?! You're not an author! Get away from that podium! Stop fooling these nice people!"

Is there some word for the condition of secretly believing (or not-so-secretly, now) you're a fraud? Because I have it. Fortunately (in more ways than just this), I'm not the president, because I would probably spend all my time sitting in the Oval Office thinking "Who am I kidding? This is ridiculous."

But anyway, the event seemed to go well. My secret is safe for at least one more reading.