An Ode to the Imposter: How doubt creeps in our artistic work.
im·pos·tor syn·drome / noun / the persistent inability to believe that one’s success is deserved or has been legitimately achieved as a result of one’s own efforts or skills.
You may have heard of it, but just so we’re all on the same page, here we have the Oxford Languages Dictionary definition.
Adam tasked me with writing about this familiar demon because it hides in the shadows of our minds as we pursue our artistic lifestyle. It watches us confer about projects, tangoes with our processes, and becomes most visible when we put forth our product to all of you. It is sneaky and at times relentless. Most of the time we wrestle with it individually, and only when we check-in with each other do we realize the lack of ground it stands on.
But as we put a name to the phenomenon, we have also concluded that maybe it isn’t so bad that this demon toys with us. I ask myself, is it this imposter demon that has kept me humble despite my artistic achievements?
When we think of Pride in the context of the seven deadly sins, there’s an emphasis on a grotesque vanity that fictional stories are quick to shame. And yet I am followed by a generation glowing with unapologetic declarations of self-love. The division between the good and the bad seem only present when we severely screw sh*t up. And then Morgan Freeman and Brad Pitt have a bloody mess on their hands…
My mind wanders specifically to my live performance experience. I don’t recall ever being excessively boastful about my accomplishments when I was younger, but I have a strong memory of a possible reason why pride has not been an issue in terms of my theatre career.
When I was thirteen, I took a musical theatre class in school. In addition to learning about the basics of live performing, our class produced a junior version of a Disney musical and presented it to the whole school. I was lucky to have the class with a bunch of my friends… lucky at first. Unfortunately, there was some internal friend-group conflict as we neared the in-class rehearsal process. Our teacher held traditional style auditions — so, add in some junior high hormonal pressures and anxieties — and a mini dramatic episode unleashed. Nickelodeon would have gobbled this story line up.
I remember having a deep sinking feeling from the beginning that I would be the cause of conflict. Not to brag on my pre-teen self, but I had done a few community theatre kids shows prior and therefore had a leg up on my classmates with stage experience, as most of them were doing this for the first time. Even then, I remember, I could objectively determine that I most likely would be cast in a lead role of my choice (which was the villain… duh).
I couldn’t feel good about it, however. I knew I would upset my friends — one in particular who was arguably the alpha of our group. She was extremely vocal about wanting that part. I would shyly shrink away in these conversations. Come to the day the cast list was posted, and as I walked up the stairwell, my aforementioned friend was briskly walking towards me from the other direction. She was holding back tears as she said, “Congrats, you got the part.” And shoved me aside as she passed.
I can still recall that weird feeling of being happy that I got the role (or rather that I was objectively correct in surveying my abilities), but also the sinking feeling that I did something terrible to hurt someone. It took a week or so before our friendship was mended. All in all, it was typical, “whatever,” junior high girl drama.
But this story lives in my memories clear as day. That feeling which conjured from seeing my distraught friend to then seeing my name on the cast list is burned in me. Naturally, I have zero judgement or withstanding resentment toward my friend or the situation. I blame no one — ’tis but the work of hormonal driven circumstances. However, that emotion buried itself in my core personality and lives on. My mind highlights negative associations with personal accomplishments and causes me to feel undeserving of them.
I spoke in my last blog about attending The College of Wooster for undergrad. At my worst, I’ll tell you how I must have fooled the acceptance committee and tricked my professors of having more profound ideas than I actually do. Or, perhaps I would receive passing grades because I garnered pity or had charmed them to lead them to thinking something like, “oh well, she probably didn’t mean that” and just passed me on assumption. All ridiculous ideas. But real in my head.
In a double-whirlwind of martyrdom and stupidity, I gave up acting for a residential theatre company, and instead asked to focus only on singing for about 6 months. Why? Because I was consistently getting cast in roles and felt the pressure of my peers who were being denied the chance to perform (my ex girlfriend being one of them… yeahhhh). I genuinely thought I was in the way of others getting what they deserved. What I thought was some rebellious act to stick it to the casting and production team actually resulted in my own unhappiness. And general confusion for all.
Adam and I started taking our photography seriously during lockdown of 2020. Just two years ago. The amount of content we have produced is almost crazy to look back on (and you can do so by reading my 2021 recap blog here!). We scrapped this business together from nothing but our determination, experience in other artistic fields, and a core of friend & acquaintance support. Now we have a fully functioning machine of content creation that we advertise on Instagram, Facebook, and have paying subscribers on Patreon. And our content doesn’t stop at photography — we are also composing music, making music videos, and *ahem* deliver unique insight of our creations with an awesome blog. We made this happen.
It’s never enough to keep the imposter demon silenced. Nearly after every photoshoot session, I check in with Adam to see how he thought it went. It’s never a confident answer. “We’ll see,” is the most common response. And then, during the editing process, my check in is usually responded with, “Why did I ever doubt myself?”
We doubt because we are hard on ourselves. We doubt because we are often comparative to other’s success. We doubt because why wouldn’t we expect the highest, greatest, most perfect product of ourselves? What’s worse, is when we do feel good about something, and the response from our peers and subscribers is nearly mute… it’s easy to deflate our confidence.
Sometimes, we’re not always looking in the right places. I can’t tell you the amount of times people we hardly know, borderline strangers, will approach Adam unprompted to compliment his photography. Sometimes they’re people that maybe “follow” us, but don’t interact via social media. Anonymous acts of compensation will arbitrarily hit our accounts after posting a new song or video. Pure internet strangers will find us and subscribe to our highest tier on Patreon. My inbox is visited by old friends telling me how much they enjoy reading my words, and have even casually quoted my own blog to me in conversation. It’s a great reminder that the audience you’re reaching isn’t always the one you expect.
It is Friday, March 11th. I was supposed to post this blog ten days ago. I could tell you I was immensely busy with rehearsals/tech week… and sure, I am. But that’s only partially true. I was fearful that my words here are irrelevant or uninteresting. Overblown; egotistical. But those thoughts aren’t mine… not exactly. It’s that playful impish syndrome that is quietly sitting on my shoulder, judging everything I type, in every way that I type it.
Just as Harry boldly states the Dark Lord’s name to dampen the fear of Voldemort, I shall name my demon and post this damn thing today.
F*ck off, imposter.
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