Everything about me screamed impostor when I landed in my first creative writing class at Stanford. Cloaked in flannel shirts that seemed more Santa Barbara farmers’ market than “serious academic,” I was surrounded by people who spoke in literary theories and tossed around phrases like "postmodern existentialism" while I was still fixated on whether my latest short story had enough metaphors to feel legit. The doubt wasn’t just palpable—it was practically tattooed on my forehead.

But here’s the thing about impostor syndrome: while it whispers, "You don’t belong," it also offers you an undeniable opportunity. Somewhere between the awkwardness, the comparisons, and the endless internal dialogues ("What if they find out I only read half of The Grapes of Wrath?"), you can discover that growth doesn’t happen when you already know what you’re doing. It happens when you’re unsure—and doing it anyway. Let me take you through my journey from impostor to someone who, dare I say, feels like he’s found his groove. And maybe along the way, you’ll find some moments that resonate with yours, whatever "your thing" may be.

The “Everyone Else Has Their Life Together EXCEPT Me” Phase

Let’s start here because impostor syndrome often begins with what I call the Highlight Reel Effect. Think about scrolling on social media and seeing everyone’s perfectly curated vacation pics while you’re eating cereal over the sink. That’s how I felt at my first writing workshop. One girl claimed she had been published in six literary journals. A guy with circular glasses asked in a voice dripping with effortless self-assurance, “What’s the central tension of your piece?” (Fun fact: I didn’t know my story HAD central tension. I thought it was just a loosely veiled rant about single-use plastics.)

In dating, the Highlight Reel Effect translates like this: You assume everyone else is effortlessly charming, universally adored, and masterfully navigating their romantic lives while you have spaghetti on your date-night shirt. Spoiler alert: They’re wondering the same about you.

The truth is, most people are better at projection than authenticity. That freshman-fear haze? It's universal—like bad Wi-Fi at coffee shops. If you feel out of place at your new job, with new people, or in a new relationship, congratulations—you’re human.

Learning to Stay in Your Lane (Especially When Everyone Else's Looks Paved and Golden)

Here’s the thing I had to learn (and relearn about seventeen times): Just because someone else looks like an expert doesn’t mean they ARE one. That girl with the six literary publications? Turns out, one of those journals was a niche zine run by her roommate’s cousin. And Circular Glasses Guy? He admitted (months later) that his favorite form of creative writing was tweets.

When we compare ourselves, especially in the early stages, we start measuring our behind-the-scenes mess to someone else’s finished product. Don’t do it. Stay in your own lane. Craft the thing you love to craft—whether it’s a novel, a new role at work, or even a relationship. Self-doubt tends to thrive when you’re too busy craning your neck to look across the street instead of focusing on your path. My lane? It’s covered in salt air, Fleetwood Mac blaring in the background, and a probably unhelpful number of ocean metaphors. But hey, it works for me. Yours will work for you.

Faking Expertise (Until It Becomes Real)

Here’s one of life’s weird truths: Sometimes, you have to fake confidence long enough for it to turn into the real thing. Is it more exhausting than trying to build IKEA furniture without instructions? Yes. Does it work? Also yes.

For me, the trick was this: Any time I started spiraling with self-doubt (like, say, someone asking me what my "three-act structure" was, and me wanting to scream), I leaned on one mantra: “Act like this workshop (or writing piece) was MADE for you.” The same goes for dating or friendships. Show up fully—even if you’re not fully sure what you’re doing yet. Fake not to deceive, but to give yourself permission to practice being the person you want to become. The confident, capable one will eventually catch up with you.

Here’s how I acclimated:

  • I Asked "Dumb" Questions Anyway: In any dating scenario or high-pressure space, asking honest questions is a cheat code to connection and clarity. Turns out, most people appreciate candid simplicity over posturing. “Hey, I don’t understand...can you explain?” can be applied in creative workspaces or date-night topics that leave you lost in the weeds.

  • I Stopped Waiting for Permission: You’re not going to wake up one day suddenly feeling “expert enough.” You have to go for it: write the thing, pitch the idea, or say the awkward-but-honest truth on a second date.

  • I Changed the Language: “I’m not good enough yet” became “I’m still learning.” And let me tell you: You’d be amazed what a difference self-reframing makes.

Find Your Community of Realists

When impostor syndrome gets loud, finding a crew who gets it can work wonders. For me, that looked like building friendships with other writers—not the ones who spent workshops flexing their résumés, but the ones who also admitted, “Yeah, I opened a new Word Doc five minutes before class and panicked.”

In life and relationships, this applies across the board. Whether it’s dating or stepping up in your career, find people who are in the arena with you, so to speak. You need the ones willing to admit that yes, that date was weird; no, they don’t always know what they want; and yes, they occasionally eat ice cream straight from the container like the rest of us mortals.

Graduate from “Good Enough For Now” to “Good Enough—Period.”

Impostor syndrome tends to convince us that we’re in this constant state of “almost there.” We’re almost a good partner, almost good at our job, almost someone worth noticing. Learning how to step out of that thinking is its own art form, and here’s what I discovered about doing that:

  1. Celebrate Tangible Wins
    When I finally published my first essay in a journal, I reminded myself that success wasn’t a measuring stick. It was a milestone. Stop looking too far ahead for what “comes next.” Recognition breeds confidence.

  2. Quit Trying to Control Other People’s Perception
    Whether it’s someone’s opinion of your work or your ability to “impress,” drop the act. You’re deserving of that space—not because you’ve earned it, but because you’ve chosen to stand in it. You’re a person worth knowing whether or not the first date goes perfectly.

  3. Listen to Those Closest to You (And Ignore the Negative Feedback Loop in Your Head)
    Ever notice how our friends’ compliments ring hollow while our inner critic has surround sound? Flip it. Believe your cheerleaders. Ignore that doubting narrator in your head who hasn’t read your résumé, seen your spark, or known your journey in its entirety.

And Now, the Plot Twist…

Impostor syndrome doesn’t always go away entirely. I’ll still catch myself hesitating before submitting a pitch or typing “novelist” into a bio. But here’s the difference now: I no longer wait until the doubt disappears to act. Progress is messy, nonlinear, and two steps forward, one step back. But if you let go of the need to be perfect and cling instead to persistence, you’ll realize that showing up—even imperfectly—is its own kind of expertise.

So here’s my takeaway for you: Start when you’re 60% ready. Go when your voice shakes. And remember—whether you’re fumbling through love, work, or something new entirely—it’s the act of trying (not arriving) that makes you worthy. Trust me on this. The former impostor writing this would know.