Imposter Syndrome

The following is my weekly TheaterMakers Studio newsletter, dated June 28, 2023:

Similar to the “blank page blues,” this week’s focus is on a malady that pretty much everybody in our industry has struggled with to varying degrees, yet I think writers take the lion’s share of…

Imposter Syndrome.

I’m sure you’ve all heard of this illogical illness, but if not: Imposter Syndrome is that feeling of not belonging alongside one’s peers. That somehow your status or success is undeserved (or shouldn’t exist).

I’m not going to lie… I feel this way ALL THE TIME.

Now, let’s be clear… “success” is a sliding scale and there are as many ways to measure it as there are people to perceive it. Am I a TONY winner? No. Has my writing been on Broadway? Not yet. Does that make me any less of a success?

Eh.

The honest answer is: no, but it feels like it sometimes…

Because being a “success” as a writer can sometimes just mean that I found an hour out of my week to actually work on my script (when I’m not doing my office work, working on other people’s projects, spending time with my family, etc). And it is easy to look around you and see other people “succeeding” and be discouraged or feel as though your own accomplishments pale in comparison.

Again, I am guilty of this as well.

I read last week that a colleague of mine just had two productions announced (come on, TWO?!) and I felt that pang of “man… I wish that was me…” and felt bad for myself for a moment, but then I remembered that important news had recently come up for one of my own shows. Were they printed up in Playbill? No. But they were important milestones for the quiet development of the piece. I had a success, even if it wasn’t flashy.

We’re all moving at our own pace. And that’s okay.

Try not to constantly measure yourself with someone else’s ruler, and keep an eye out for the wins you do have. Give yourself achievable, manageable goals and keep taking them on. I guarantee those wins will get bigger as you go.

That brings me to another contributing factor to imposter syndrome in our field: the definition of what it even means to be “a writer.”

A few years back a friend of mine was finally at a point in her life where she was able to make the big, scary choice to quit her job and focus on writing full-time (and it’s funny, even just writing this shows the weird bias we have around writing… her “job” was the thing she did during business hours and her writing was somehow this OTHER thing, despite it being just as, if not more, important than her “job”). Now her JOB was WRITING. By even the most draconian of standards, everyone would agree she was a WRITER.

But she was always a writer (and she would agree).

It’s not an all-or-nothing game… You don’t have to be writing full-time to be a writer.

You don’t have to be making money off of your writing to be a writer.

Heck, a lot of the time you don’t even have to be WRITING to be a writer (writers spend a whole lot more time observing, analyzing, and thinking than they do actually creating output).

There is nothing quantifiable about the term writer that should make you afraid to use it or apply it to yourself. There is no reason why Tom Stoppard or Dominique Morisseau are any more writers than someone writing on weekends with only one unproduced one-act under their belt. They may walk more red carpets and have more awards, but you and they are all writers. We all have goals, we all have things to learn, and we all have obstacles. Let the successes of others fuel you, but never let them make you feel as though you don’t belong or that you are anything less than what you are.

Did you write, are you writing, or will you be writing? If yes, then you’re a writer.

END OF PLAY.