The Perfect Imposter

Personal Essay

I remember writing my first story in primary school, aged seven, about a princess who had the power to talk to animals. I wasn’t very good at drawing, so I asked a friend to illustrate the cover for me. I burned with envy as I watched her draw a pretty princess and an impressively accurate swan. I remember my mother telling me her drawing wasn’t that good and that my story was much better, but my peers gushed over my friend’s drawings. No one cared that my princess had overthrown the evil witch and saved the forest creatures from a desperate fate. What I learnt from this experience – and many that followed – was that anyone could write a story; it wasn’t impressive or special. If you wanted to be noticed as an artist, you had to be the best. In this essay, I will reflect on my struggle with imposter syndrome and perfectionism, my experience submitting to Oranges Journal, and the resulting anxiety related to my future publishing ambitions. Additionally, I will explore the complexities of publishing personal nonfiction, and the pressures writers face to maintain a social media presence and cultivate a personal brand.

During the first year of my Creative and Professional Writing degree, I found myself constantly judging my work against that of others. Playing the comparison game felt like the easiest way to gauge my worth as an ‘artist.’ Encouraging feedback wasn’t enough; I needed to know what kind of feedback my peers were receiving. Was their writing better than mine? Patricia Lee Gauch, Editorial Director of Philomel Books for nearly 25 years, says of what makes a writer: ‘…it takes a basic inquisitiveness, a curiosity about life in the small and large, and a determination to find the way to bring patches of it to life. The author is observant, used to noticing the life around him or her, no matter how small or large.’ (Gauch, 2024). I was fond of this explanation and believed it to be mostly true. But a part of me remained sceptical: Surely, that can’t be all it takes? I finished my first year with a 2:1. I was frustrated. I couldn’t sit in the most commonly achieved grade bracket. I decided I would achieve only Firsts for the next two years.

I learned the hard way that perfect grades couldn’t validate my sense of worth as a writer. I was possessed by waves of self-confidence – bordering on narcissism – that would sink into crippling self-doubt. It wasn’t until my third year that my perspective began to shift. A peer of mine was stagnating. Though he was talented, his determination to simply get the work done, and refusal to receive feedback, was halting his growth. He didn’t see the value in questioning how he could evolve. I worried I was doing something similar. Always focusing on achieving the highest grade distracted me from the actual feedback I was receiving. Was I growing as a writer, or was I just proficient in meeting criteria? My pursuit of perfection had stopped me from submitting my work anywhere. I was terrified of being seen as an imposter and getting rejected. Who did I think I was to send my work out into the world? In his article Imposter Syndrome 101, Jim Oakley identifies one symptom of imposter syndrome as ‘purposefully staying out of the spotlight and reaching only for safe successes rather than continuing to seek challenges.’ This rang incredibly true. I was holding back from new challenges to avoid being confronted by a potential truth: maybe my writing was bad. Oakley quotes Maya Angelou: ‘I have written eleven books, but each time I think, ‘Uh oh, they’re going to find out now. I’ve run a game on everybody and they’re going to find me out’ (Oakley, 2017).

In her article Bad Writing, Julia Bell observes: ‘[Bad writing] has at various times left me angry, disappointed, jaded, but – like anything which is difficult – it has also taught me more than I could have imagined. Over the years in the classroom, I have come to see that in fact, far from being bad for my work, the bad writing has become the work: it’s the point’ (Bell, n.d.). After reading this article, I began to consider that maybe my less-than-perfect writing still had value. Perhaps submitting – and potentially failing – was part of the process. With this new perspective, I sent off a personal essay to oranges journal, an online publication. I wasn’t entirely happy with the piece; it had been over a year since I’d written it. However, I knew it aligned with the Oranges Journal mission to: ‘…promote the work of women, LGBTQIA+, ethnically diverse, neurodivergent, disabled, migrant/immigrant, working class/low income and any other writers whose voices have historically been excluded or marginalised by the literary world, and wider culture’ (oranges journal, n.d.).

The piece, Life Drawing Diaries, was inspired by a life drawing event I attended. The essay explores my perspective on male versus female nudity in public spaces, shaped by my upbringing in a conservative household and my identity as a queer woman. The piece also draws on a psychological study and aims to leave readers questioning their own perceptions of nudity and societal prejudice. One line reads: ‘Even though he is the one standing exposed, I am the one who feels naked. I avert my eyes from certain areas for the allotted time, trying to teach myself how to capture the crook of an elbow, the curve of an ear, wondering all the while if I am the only one feeling repulsed’ (Melville, 2025). I’m often drawn to personal essay and memoir, not just as a writer but as a reader too.

Reading Mia Döring’s Any Girl: A Memoir of Sexual Exploitation and Recovery, dramatically shifted my perception of sex work. Prior to reading the memoir, I had come to believe that sex work could be empowering for women, and to argue otherwise was misogynistic and outdated. But after reading Döring’s account, I couldn’t hold onto my former perspective. As Döring writes: ‘Young women and girls are being conditioned to absorb their own dehumanisation into their sexuality and we are celebrating it’ (Döring, 2022). It was her use of the memoir form that made me connect so deeply with her message. I’m not sure my opinion would’ve changed so readily if it weren’t for her vulnerability and honesty. Writer Olivia Laing, who has authored several non-fiction books, has a slightly different view on memoir: ‘I write about quite difficult subjects, about loneliness, loss, addiction, hatred, on personal and political levels. I want to understand those things philosophically, but I also want to know how they affect real human lives. I’m not very interested in memoir. My own experience is inevitably so limited’ (Laing, 2020). My aim is to combine elements of memoir and personal essay in a way that allows me to tell my own stories while demonstrating an awareness of – and willingness to challenge – both my personal biases and wider societal contexts.

Alongside my submission of Life Drawing Diaries, I was required to write a short paragraph describing how my perspective aligned with the journal’s intersectional feminist values. I read my submission over and over, convinced I sounded too generic, that my sentences lacked flow and clarity, and that they’d see me as the fraud I feared I was. I thought about failing and growing and, eventually, I pressed send. A few weeks later, I received an email informing me that my piece had been chosen for publication. As the news sank in, I found myself oscillating between excitement, pride, and the impulse to downplay my achievement. I may have been accepted for publication – but oranges journal was a relatively small, online journal. Was being published by them really such an achievement? Again, I had to catch myself. The scope of the journal wasn’t the point; this was a step forward in my development as a writer. Too often in my life, I’ve been guilty of moving the goal posts as soon as I’ve scored. I’ve rarely stopped to congratulate myself, or to acknowledge that I’ve reached the very thing I’d been aiming for.

Something I hadn’t anticipated about publishing a personal non-fiction piece was how much ‘negative’ feedback would affect me. While most responses were overwhelmingly positive – praising both my writing and willingness to share my honest perspective on a potentially controversial topic – there was also some backlash. A small handful of family members and family friends accused me of being ‘anti-men,’ misreading the piece as me demonising all men, and interpreting my discomfort with male nudity as a sign that I was somehow troubled. This reaction was painful. It wasn’t at all how I’d intended to come across. I believed I’d made every effort to express my experience with nuance and to show that I was actively questioning my own biases. I’d hoped I’d given enough context to help readers understand where I was coming from. This experience made me question whether I wanted to continue writing and publishing anecdotal nonfiction – something I’d always intended to pursue, with aspirations of being published in journals like The Stinging Fly and Granta.

Writing from personal experience has always helped me make sense of the world. I see it as therapeutic – when I write this way, I feel like the most honest version of myself. But Life Drawing Diaries opened my eyes to the kind of criticism nonfiction often invites: the deeply personal kind. I’d never felt so exposed. Perhaps I was better off pursuing my fictional works: at least the criticism would be more about craft and taste, not my beliefs or lived experiences. I even considered using a pseudonym for any future pieces that might provoke discomfort, difficult conversations, or personal criticism. But I hesitated, knowing how crucial a writer’s platform can be to success in today’s literary world.

As Rebecca Jennings explains in Vox, with nonfiction books in particular, publishers seek authors who already have an established audience – readers who will guarantee a return on their investment (Jennings, 2024). Eric Reid similarly states: ‘[Social media] is a powerful tool that can help authors connect with their readers, build their brand, and promote their books. By having a strong social media presence, you can increase your visibility, grow your audience, and ultimately boost your book sales’ (Reid, 2023). I worried that if I hid behind a pseudonym, I’d remove my ability to connect with my audience on a more personal and transparent level. Why would they care about what I had to say if they didn’t know me?

I was also reluctant to hide myself, as it would go against everything I value about this genre. For me, personal nonfiction has always been about honesty and self-expression. After Jeanette McCurdy received backlash for the title of her memoir I’m Glad my Mom Died, she said: ‘The more uncomfortable something was for me to put on the page, the more important it felt for me to put on the page. That kind of honesty has been truly liberating for me and has led me to a life of fulfilment and authenticity that I hope for everybody so I hope that people take away the honesty and are maybe inspired to share some of those uncomfortable truths about themselves’ (McCurdy, 2022). 

Had the word count allowed, I would’ve delved deeper into the pressures on artists to create personal brands and public personas, the impact of cancel culture, and the demonisation of anything deemed ‘woke.’ But despite my fears – of rejection, of being misunderstood, both before and after publication – I will continue to write from experience and share my perspective on the world around me. I have not come this far, confronting imposter syndrome and challenging my perfectionism, to turn back now. If my writing is ‘bad,’ or my perspective is ‘wrong,’ I am willing to learn from it. I am committed to evolving, staying curious, and bringing what I observe of life to the page, After all, I am a writer.

References

Bell, J. (n.d.) In praise of bad writing. Available at: https://tlth.co.uk/inpraiseofbadwriting [Accessed 10 April 2025]

Döring, M. (2022) Any girl: A memoir of sexual exploitation and recovery [online]. Available at: https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/Any-Girl-Audiobook/B09NMKQ1HT (Accessed 14 April 2025).

Gauch, P. (2024) What makes a writer? Available at: https://patricialeegauch.com/what-makes-an-author/what-makes-an-author/ [Accessed 10 April 2025].

Jennings, R. (2024) Everyone’s a sellout now. Vox [online]. 01 February. Available at: https://www.vox.com/culture/2024/2/1/24056883/tiktok-self-promotion-artist-career-how-to-build-following [Accessed 14 April 2025].

Laing, O. (2020) Our sense of time: An interview with Olivia Laing. Interview with Claudia Bruno. 3:AM Magazine, 04 August [online]. Available at: https://www.3ammagazine.com/3am/olivia-laing-interview/ [Accessed 14 April 2025].

McCurdy, J. (2022) iCarly' star Jennette McCurdy opens up on healing from writing her new memoir, ‘I'm glad my mom died’. An interview with Angeline Jane Bernabe, Hayley FitzPatrick and Cameron Harrison. Good Morning America, 09 August [online]. Available at: https://www.goodmorningamerica.com/culture/story/icarly-star-jennette-mccurdy-opens-healing-writing-memoir-88110196 [Accessed 14 April 2025].

Melville, A. (2025) Life drawing diaries. Oranges Journal [online]. Available at: https://www.orangesjournal.com/lifestyle/life-drawing-diaries [Accessed 11 April 2025].

Oakley, J. (2017) Imposter syndrome 101. Medium [online]. 31 October. Available at: https://medium.com/@JimOakleyMFT/imposter-syndrome-101-f36024b0d1db [Accessed 14 April 2025].

oranges journal (n.d.) Mission. Available at: https://www.orangesjournal.com/about [Accessed 10 April 2025].

Reid, E. (2023) The importance of social media for authors. Medium [online]. 30 March. Available at: https://ericgreid.medium.com/the-importance-of-social-media-for-authors-d5cd201c07c1 [Accessed 14 April 2025].