What if I'm a fraud?

A note on imposter syndrome

I was recently on a panel for Open Secrets Magazine to talk about personal storytelling. When I read the bios of the other speakers — who included bestselling authors, literary award winners, and actual writing instructors — my immediate thought was, “Oh no, they made a mistake. I don’t belong here.”

This feeling of being an imposter — and of subsequently being “found out” — has followed me through every stage of my academic, professional, and personal life.

I carry a persistent fear that my closest friends will one day realize I'm a self-centered, ignorant person unworthy of their time and care. My partner will discover I’m not nearly as smart, interesting, or attractive as I’ve somehow led him to believe all these years.

Even after seven years as a full-time artist / printer / writer / entrepreneur, I still fear if people saw what went on behind-the-scenes, they would be horrified.

Even as I write this newsletter, I’m wondering: "Who am I to write a newsletter about life’s problems and learnings? What makes me think this is worthy of someone's time and inbox space?" This is the voice that pipes up at every opportunity to tell me that I am, at best, a fluke; at worst, a grave mistake.

What if I'm a fraud?

1. Check the evidence

When I feel unqualified, I find it helpful to distinguish facts from feelings:

Feeling: I’m not a “real” writer.

Fact: I write, which is the definition of a writer. Exhibit A: This newsletter! Even if it’s not as consistent or amazing as I would like, I am writing. Therefore, I’m a writer.

Feeling: I’m not a good enough writer to belong on this panel.

Fact: Many people have bought my book, and have left positive reviews or emailed to tell me it was helpful during a difficult time. This shows that my writing resonates with others.

Feeling: I don’t have any useful insights to share with other writers, because I don’t have an MFA or extensive writing & publishing experience.

Fact: Many writers didn’t go through MFA programs or study writing in any official capacity. Each person has interesting, funny, relevant, valuable experiences and insights to share.

These facts ground me. I have limitations, and my writing won’t resonate with everyone—but that doesn’t make me any less of a writer.

The panel audience, which included both seasoned writers and those earlier in their writing journeys, were able to see that there’s no single path to getting published. I hope that someone listening thought, “If she can do it without any formal training or a plan, maybe I can too. I don’t have to wait until I have X, Y, or Z.”

Sometimes, the evidence will show that I’m not the right fit for certain opportunities. For example, I was invited to join a radio segment about talking to children about grief—but since I don’t have any familiarity with this specific topic, I turned it down. Either way, separating facts from feelings helps me make better assessments and decisions.

2. Give other people credit

I'm not that good of a liar, and chances are, neither are you. Admissions committees, hiring teams, editors, and judges are generally smart, discerning people. They have experience, systems, and instincts to help them determine if it’s in their best interest to let you in. Rachel Kramer Bussel of Open Secrets Magazine knows my background and has read my writing. She intentionally made the choice to include writers with different experiences and profiles. In other words, trust that people know what they are doing.

The same goes for those who are personally close to you. They see you in all kinds of situations — when you're hungry and tired, under stress, and outside your comfort zone. None of us can keep up the appearance of being a flawless human being 24/7 in order to trick people into loving us.

The truth is, I can be sharp, irritable, and judgmental. I am not as adventurous or easy breezy as I would like to be. My baseline anxiety is pretty high (see: this entire newsletter series). Those close to me know this already. I'm not fooling anyone. And still, I’m loved and cared for. Both things can be true.

3. It's not just you

While I appreciate that the term “imposter syndrome” helps normalize self-doubt, naming it a "syndrome" makes it seem like a purely individual problem, and not also a systemic one.

Women, and especially women of color, and others from marginalized communities often feel like we’re not good enough because we’re told in explicit and implicit ways that we don’t belong. Systemic racism, sexism, and other biases are still embedded in all institutions. These biases shape what behaviors and work are seen and rewarded as "professional," “legitimate,” and "worthy."

For example, according to NPR, over half of published books are now written by women, and on average, female authors sell more books than their male counterparts—showing strong popular demand for their work. Yet, most major literary awards still go to male authors or books with male protagonists, reflecting persistent biases around which stories are valued as “serious literature.”

All that to say, imposter syndrome isn't a personal failing. The onus isn't only on us to internally navigate our insecurities; we need to acknowledge the cultural and systemic reasons behind why imposter syndrome exists for so many of us. We need to change external work environments to equitably value different individuals and their contributions.

Further reading: I thought this 2021 article, "Stop Telling Women They Have Imposter Syndrome" by Ruchika Tulshyan and Jodi-Ann Burey in the Harvard Business Review was really good and borrowed a lot from it for this last point. Recommend giving it a read!