Ditching Imposter Syndrome with Her Majesty A.H. Cayley

It’s that clawing anxiety that tells you not to send that pitch, or to qualify profusely in the email when you write the pitch (then reread it 17 times and smoke five cigarettes before hitting send), or to sink into a pit of despair when the pitch is accepted because really who the fuck are you anyway, you have no right to be writing for these guys, they are incredible and you? You’re a big sack of nope. A giant fraud. The fucking worst.

BOOM: Imposter Syndrome.

Here’s the funny thing about Imposter Syndrome – it’s generally the high achievers and the brightest bulbs that get it. Congratulations! You feel like shit because you rock. It’s also typically prevalent in women. Congratulations! Fuck the patriarchy.

I used to feel it terribly – a niggling feeling that burnt the sheen off some of my greatest successes and turned compliments about my work into deep barbs – but then I got it to bugger off. Your mileage may vary but these little tips helped me a million.

Know That You Are Not Special

At least, not in this regard. We are socialised by various power structures to feel unworthy and unwelcome, and the sooner you stop believing that this is just some inherent flaw of your own and not something that literally billions of people feel every day, the better. You are not special. Everybody feels it to some degree. Stop pathologising it or you will turn it into an embedded part of your psychology, like a hard pearl that forms around a discomforting grit except the pearl is bad and the oyster has had chronic writer’s block for like a year and a half now. That kind of thing requires buttloads of analysis to untangle, and it’s honestly got to be one of the most boring things a therapist has to listen to.

Talk To Someone If It’s Heaps Bad Though

If it’s really overwhelming you, it’s gone beyond regular Imposter Syndrome into major anxiety.  See your GP, get a referral. Take care of yourself and be kind.

Get A Cheer Squad

Also known as a support network, or ‘mates’. The internet – how good is it? Follow other writers, engage, share your work, make friends, tweet heaps. Having people in your corner to offer reassurance is honestly such a powerful boost. Listen to them and believe them. You do good shit. Take the compliment.

Stop Apologising

Stop.

Get Yourself An Ego

Easier said than done, but this kind of thing is a muscle that needs flexing and gets easier every time. It’s not a dirty word. Done something good? Tweet it, no apologies. Big up the shit out of yourself. (Like so: “This is the best thing I have ever written and I am immensely proud of it.” Easy.) Looking cute/strong/hot/capable today? Well – I’m generally uncomfortable with the concept of the selfie as an absolute act of feminism, particularly when it’s taken on a device that was made by heavily exploited POC workers and intersects somewhat with the capitalist co-opting of feminism as an individualised notion of self love above all else that you can buy online with this new unethically manufactured contouring kit and $35 tote bag that says ‘FEMINIST’ on it – but at the same time I believe the expression of the female ego and unapologetic self-celebration of the female form (all its forms – birth certificate is irrelevant) are inherently political acts, so talk about cognitive dissonance! Take the picture – I bloody love taking photos of myself and whacking them online because damn, it makes you feel awesome, but just call a spade a spade is what I’m saying. I’m happy to give you selfie tips, I’m great at them, hit me up.

Fake It

Fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it fake it.

At some point you will finally believe it, and by then you’ll find everybody else already does.

Listen to Nicki Minaj

The Pinkprint, on repeat, for as long as it takes. I am so fucking serious about this, do not question me.

Lower The Stakes

But what if you do end up doing something that reveals you to be a ‘fraud’, or less than you apparently should be? Here’s my take: who gives a shit? Learn to shrug things off, and from there you’ll start shrugging things off before they can even get on.
Example: I just finished this entire piece before I found out it’s more commonly spelt ‘impostor’. I mean yeah, both spellings are acceptable, but I’m almost a decade into a professional writing career and I never even noticed that. It’s possibly a bit embarrassing. On the other hand:

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Buy tickets to my EWF appearances, I’m the fucking best.

A.H. Cayley is a Sydney writer and broadcaster. She co-created, curates and hosts Confession Booth, both the long-running live event and the Confession Booth podcast on ABC Radio First Run. She is co-creator, former senior producer and former co-host of FBi Radio’s flagship politics program Backchat, and has appeared nationally on triple j and Radio National.

Come along to A Room of One’s Own to hear A.H. and fellow literary babe Bri Lee in conversation about their experiences with Impostor Syndrome. The pair will be plotting more ways to smash this internal glass ceiling (and probably the patriarchy in general).

A.H. will also be appearing in our Emerging Programmers Masterclass, and our Literary Entrepreneurs panel as part of The National Writers’ Conference.