Wrestling Imposter Syndrome

Imposter syndrome ambushed me recently while I was trying to write an essay for CrimeReads. The syndrome had been dormant for a while, but it took that opportunity to slip up behind me, sink its fangs into my neck and inject its venom into my bloodstream, leaving me paralyzed, staring at a blank screen.

I couldn’t write anything.

I had my theme; heists. I have lots of opinions about heists. I watch heist movies and read heist books. I wrote a book with a heist in it (which was why I’d been asked to write the essay). None of that mattered. Self-doubt flooded into me, filling my head with unassailable arguments about my incompetence. I had nothing to say about heists. I wasn’t an expert. The people who read CrimeReads are experts. They’ve read every single heist novel ever, plus all the non-fiction heist books like The Great Train Robbery and they probably even know about ancient historical heists like the time a plucky band of Spartan robbers hijacked a Persian treasure ship or something. They would descend on me in a horde and savage my pathetic, tissue-thin opinions to bloody ribbons, and I would be exposed as a fraud who knew nothing. About anything.

I guess it never goes away completely.

It was ridiculous. The essay was about my opinions. I knew I could write an essay–except, in that moment, I couldn’t. I could not come up with an opening sentence. I had a list of fantasy heist novels I wanted to discuss. I knew them well, but I still had my copies by my computer so I could double-check my work. It didn’t help. I couldn’t find a way to open the piece. I was supposed to write about 1500 words. Usually, I have to shorten something of mine to that length. Now, I was marooned without water in a merciless desert, 1500 words long, no sign of help on any horizon.

Imposter syndrome tells you that you really don’t belong. I would guess, without thinking about it much, that it affects people from marginalized communities (and most women) more than it affects white males, but I don’t want to oversimplify, because patriarchy also sends messages of worthlessness to white men. It tells them if they aren’t at the top of the pyramid they are “betas” who don’t matter. Some white men must grapple with the feeling that they “don’t belong.”

“Fake it ’til you make it” is a popular expression that seems, paradoxically, to have its roots in imposter syndrome. Why yes, the expression seems to say, you are an imposter. You are faking it. And just keep faking it until you learn what you have to learn and succeed at what you have to do. Then you’re not an imposter anymore.

That’s a great technique. The syndrome itself makes it clear that “fake it ’til you make it” will never work for me. I will be exposed, ridiculed, and sent away. Forever.

I did what I usually do when I’m stuck on an opening sentence. I skipped it. I started with what was clearly at least a second paragraph and I pushed through, like rolling a great big rock up hill, through the word count. Eventually, at the end of that, I had an idea for an opening paragraph–which, I guess, could be seen as a a way of faking it until I could make it.

At least by then I had words on the screen, something I could work with, and finally ended up with a decent essay.

Am I cured of the syndrome? No. The freezing anxiety doesn’t respond to objective facts, or other people’s opinions (people who don’t know me like my book–that should indicate something). It attacks, not surprisingly, when things are going well or I’ve hit a high spot–like being excited about getting to write an essay for CrimeReads.

There is a mirror to imposter syndrome. It’s called the Dunning Kruger Effect, a cognitive bias. People exhibiting this tend to rate their own knowledge or competence in a given field as much higher than factual testing shows. You can probably think of people you’ve worked with who demonstrated this effect. Or some political figures. It must make life easier. On the other hand, to go back to the desert metaphor, I don’t want to be stranded in the desert with someone with Dunning Kruger Effect. (“I watched two episodes of Bear Grylls and I have a great sense of direction! Follow me and we’ll be drinking margaritas on the beach in an hour!”)

At the end of the day, I guess imposter syndrome is just something I will work through or around. It’s been with me a long time–it’s probably not going away any time soon.