The Dreaded Imposter Syndrome

Last Friday (11th April) I took part in my first ever Facebook Live. I was part of a panel of three authors, with my fellow Boldwood Books authors and Write Romantics, Jo Bartlett and Jessica Redland, and the occasion was that all three of us were celebrating ten years as published authors.

My anniversary happened on March 28th. Jessica will celebrate in May. Jo’s anniversary will be in June. I don’t think any of us can believe a decade has passed already, and when Jessica suggested a Facebook Live I couldn’t say no.

But as the time approached I was seized with dread. I’d never done a “live” before. What if my internet froze? What if someone banged on the front door while we were live? What if the builders next door started making a noise?

But, without doubt, my biggest fear was that I’d be exposed as a fraud. We might all be Boldwood authors. We might all be Write Romantics. We might all have managed ten years in a difficult and fickle industry. But Jo and Jessica had hit heady heights, and I - hadn’t. I was about to be shown up for the failure I was. And I was terrified.

So many of us suffer from these sort of feelings that it has a name. Imposter Syndrome they call it - that awful, sinking feeling when you can’t help but think, What on earth do I think I’m doing? Who do I think I’m fooling? I’m not a real writer/artist/mum/teacher/whatever. I’m not as good as all the other writers/artists/mums/teachers/whatever.

It’s linked to that other horrible condition, Comparisonitis. That’s where you look around you and think, Everyone else is doing so much better than me. Why am I such a failure?

The over-riding fear is that, one day, you’ll be exposed as a fraud. That people will wake up and realise you’ve just been pretending to be good at what you do, and then the whole world will rise up in judgement and tell you what you already knew anyway.

You may think that writers are full of confidence about their work, but you’d be surprised how many suffer from feelings of inadequacy. It’s such an awful feeling. Any praise that comes your way is dismissed, as you don’t believe you deserve it. Any criticism, on the other hand, is lapped up and clung to, because it enforces what you already believe to be true. Good reviews - as welcome and appreciated as they are - are forgotten the instant a scathing one comes in. I couldn’t quote a single one of my five-star reviews, but I well recall the chilling one-star comment, ‘Absolutely dire’. And I’ve had worse than that!

You keep slogging away, trying desperately to prove to yourself and others that any good reviews you’ve ever had are justified, that you really can do this. You look around you and it seems as if everyone else knows what they’re doing and you’re just bumbling along, bluffing your way through it all. One day, surely, someone will realise and expose you for the fraud you are?

When the Facebook Live got underway, I braced myself for the question I knew was coming. “What’s been your major career highlight?” Uh-oh.

Jessica and Jo have had unbelievable sales since signing with Boldwood Books. I think they’ve each sold around 1.5 million copies! I mean…

I couldn’t compete with that. When it came to my turn I said something about being able to give up my day job and become a full-time writer.

Hmm. Can we move on, please?

But that same evening, when the fear had subsided and the adrenaline had ebbed away, I began to see things differently.

I started to think more clearly, and suddenly the career highlights came flooding back. All the milestones. All the achievements. And I was suddenly furious with myself for letting the Imposter Syndrome win yet again.

Let’s be honest here: just writing a book is a major achievement in itself. Lots of people say they’re going to, but the statistics show quite clearly that very few people actually do it. Even fewer get that book published. And as for the number of those people that go on to write another book… Well!

I’ve written thirty-four books and am halfway through my thirty-fifth. Major achievement! I’ve had thirty-three books published and am at the proofreading stage for the thirty-fourth. Wowsers!

Way back in 2012/13 I joined the Romantic Novelists’ Association New Writer’s Scheme. This meant I had to show my work to someone else! Not only someone else, but a published author. Can you imagine how scary that was? But guess what? I did it! And I did it again the following year. And both times I got constructive and very positive feedback that made me realise I wasn’t wasting my time or fooling myself. I could write a book!

In 2016 I submitted a short story to the People’s Friend magazine and it was accepted. It was published as The Luckiest Man Alive. I was staggered when many of my author Facebook friends congratulated me and admitted they’d tried many times to get a story published in the magazine and had never managed it. Another massive achievement!

And there have been more. I’ve sold large print rights for five of my indie books and have the copies on my bookshelf to prove it. I’ve had two People’s Friend pocket novels published, and turned one of those into the first in a successful series, Bramblewick. One of my proudest moments was finding one of my large print editions in Hornsea Library!

I’ve had multiple orange bestseller flags on the ‘Zon. I’ve been a Kindle Direct Publishing all-star author on several occasions, earning bonuses on top of my royalties for the high volume of sales achieved. I sold the audio rights of two of my indie books to a well known audio company.

As a natural introvert, I’ve somehow conquered the absolute terror of putting myself “out there” to attend literary festivals, an awards night, conferences, and parties. I’ve sat on a panel alongside authors Jessica Redland and Jeevani Charika as part of the East Riding Libraries Festival of Words, answering questions from a live audience. I’ve done a book signing. I did a Facebook Live for goodness’ sake!

Then there are the skills I’ve taught myself along the way. As an indie author I had a lot to learn. Through googling and watching how-to videos on YouTube, I learned to format both ebooks and paperbacks, and how to upload manuscripts and covers to the ‘Zon.

I approached and hired editors and cover designers. I learned how to use Canva to make promotional graphics, short videos, and book trailers. I practised and practised until I could make book covers. After a lot of frustration, (and a bit of swearing!) I learned how to turn ebook covers into paperback covers. My Bramblewick, The Other Half, and Home for Christmas covers were all designed and created by me.

I started a basic blog. Then I turned it into a website. I found out about domain names and bought one. Then I learned how to use a website builder to gain increased functionality on that website. Then I moved my website to another provider and started from scratch, building the website I love today. I started a Facebook author page and built up my followers from zero. I set up a newsletter - and believe me, that’s one of the most complicated processes I’ve ever had to go through!

I now co-host a podcast with the fabulous Helen Phifer - at her invitation. Helen is another Write Romantic and a publishing phenomenon with Bookouture. We share a love of witches and witchy books, and our podcast is the Witchy Wednesday Book Chat Podcast. It’s nothing formal. It’s extremely casual, would never win awards, but it’s fun. We’re two northern women sharing our passion with the world. Why not?

I began my own YouTube channel. Yes, me! The shyest, most introverted person in the world, who once suffered from such terrible social phobia that I couldn’t even go out into the garden to hang out the washing. There I was, sharing my thoughts and ramblings on YouTube. Absolutely nuts!

After publishing my indie books for just three years, I’d built up my career to the extent that I could give up my day job. Granted, my day job was part-time and didn’t pay particularly well. Even so, my writing earnings far surpassed my earnings from ‘real work’ as some people kindly put it, and l was able to hand in my notice and become a full-time writer. Incredible! I’ve now been a full-time writer for seven years and will never stop being grateful for that.

And after releasing twenty-seven indie books, I signed a publishing deal with a brand-new publisher, Storm Publishing. Three books in a new series set in the Yorkshire Dales, in the fictional market town of Tuppenny Bridge. Then another contract for the final two books in the series.

Writing the penultimate book, I began to wonder what to do next. I’d heard great things about Boldwood Books from my friends and knew it would make a great home for me and my books. I sent them an email outlining the ideas I’d had for three series, explaining that my contract with Storm was almost over and that I was trying to figure out what to write next. Would they be interested in any of the ideas I’d had?

They were! And just a few months later I’d signed a contract for twelve books to include two of the series I’d outlined.

Please believe me when I say that I don’t tell you these things to boast or show off. God forbid! My point is that, in that moment when Jessica asked me what was my career highlight, I struggled to think of one. I was so fixated on the sheer number of sales they’d made, all the success they’d had, all the incredible things they’d achieved, that I was blinded to everything I’d accomplished myself.

How sad is that?

No, I haven’t won awards (well, actually, Resisting Mr Rochester did win a Chill with a Book award back in 2017 - the first and only award I’ve ever put in for) and I haven’t had massive sales or become a household name.

But what I have done is work very hard, learn a whole load of new skills, push myself out of my comfort zone time and time again, make a host of fantastic new friends, and get my life back. The woman who couldn’t go outside in the garden because she was so afraid of being seen, the woman who kept her curtains shut most of the day to keep the world out, has transformed her life.

I couldn’t be prouder of her. And she is me. So I’m proud of myself!

And we should all be proud of our own achievements, however small they may seem to us. Imposter Syndrome and Comparisonitis are terrible, soul-destroying things. What we need to realise is that most people feel the same way - yes, even those people we look up to and admire. Even envy. They struggle with the fear of failure and being “found out”, too. Believe me, I know.

Be careful how you are talking to yourself because you are listening ~ Lisa M Hayes

Most of us feel like frauds. That doesn’t mean we are. Unless you’re a counterfeiter or confidence trickster, of course, in which case, shame on you!

What you (and I) have to learn is to notice the little things; it's not just publishing deals, bestseller flags, or seeing your book on the shelves of Waterstones that matter (although these are all wonderful things and well worth celebrating if they ever happen to you). Not everyone even wants those things. Some people are quite content to just write, and all the other stuff that goes with it is irrelevant.

That's the thing. We all measure success differently, and we all want different things from our careers.That's why we should all be proud of every single step we take.

Completing a first draft, whether it's of Book One or Book Ninety-One; letting someone else read your work for the first time; plucking up the courage to attend your first writing conference; getting an email from someone who has read your book and loved it - these are just some of the thousand and one things that demonstrate how much you're progressing, however slowly. Not everyone gets to travel in the fast lane. Some of us take the scenic route!

The antidote is simple. Focus on your own path and forget what everyone else is doing. Now and then, take a look back at where you were when you started and then see where you are now.

No one else's journey matters.

Yours does.

What’s your experience of Imposter Syndrome and/or Comparisonitis, and how do you cope with them? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Have a great week!