On Imposter Syndrome

I began to write pretty much from the moment I learned how to hold a pencil. I vividly remember the thrill of drawing the lines that turned into letters, and joining the letters to form words. As I got older, I was never without a book in my hand or a pencil and paper. I’d get nagged to go out and play instead of scribbling all the time. I handwrote stories, sketches, essays, diaries and endless letters, when writing letters was still a thing. Putting words to paper had a magical effect on me, filling me with joy and satisfaction as I created something only I could give life to. My primary school teacher would often say I’d be a writer. And, turns out she was right.

I never stopped loving words, or becoming lost in the worlds my mind would conjure up. The same way a baker might look at a range of ingredients and know what their cake will look and taste like, so would I populate these worlds with characters and plots that took them (and myself) on all kinds of adventures.

Yet, after decades of stringing words together in one format or another (in two languages no less) when people ask me what I do, “Writer” still catches in my throat.

Welcome to Impostor Syndrome.

That little voice tucked in the back of our head, whispering “you’re not a writer” or “you’re just faking it” or “you’re gonna get found out sooner or later…” You know the one. It can be crippling. But if you’ve heard it, know that you’re not alone.

I’m hearing it right now even as I write this.

Why is that? Why do we doubt our ability to do what we do? Is it because we’ve been made to think of our writing as a “hobby”? Or that it is not a “real” job? Or maybe it’s the lack of recognition; we haven’t been published, won competitions or had anything produced, so surely, we’re not legitimate writers.

Right?

Do these doubts sound familiar? Most likely. But, are they reasonable?

It’s only a hobby. So is kicking a ball around; careers have been made out of that.

It’s not a real job. Countless publications, media outlets, continuing series and shows beg to differ.

You have no accolades/successes. Every published, produced or award-winning writer has arrived at their destination by climbing on mountains of rejections.

It might be hard to evict that little voice from our heads, but there are ways to silence it.

Writing is by its nature, a solitary activity, and when there is no one else around, that voice is without fail the easiest to listen to.

So, surround yourself with like-minded people. Share work and encourage the exchange of honest, constructive feedback. Vent if you have to, when the panic or anxiety sets it. Listen, when it’s their turn to vent. Remind each other that this is part of the process.

Look at your body of work, good and bad. Who put all that together? Look at the relationship you have with other writers. Do they ask for and value your opinion? If they trust you to scrutinise their work, then you must be doing something right.

Right?

If you have professional clients, do they return to you for content or input? Something I remind myself daily, is that employment is not charity; it is a business transaction and no one invests in a product of no value. If you are getting the work, then your skills are valid.

But ultimately, all the above boils down to one question:

Do. You. Write?

If the answer is yes, then my friend, you are a Writer.

written by Patty Papageorgiou