The Hidden Power of Imposter Syndrome
Interview by Jennifer Cooper
Opening photo by Dave Cooper / Photo of author courtesy of Iva-Marie Palmer
“I’m writing to bring pleasure.”
Have you ever dreamed of being a writer? What’s held you back? Maybe it’s a fear of failure or a belief that you’re not good enough.
Or maybe you just don’t have the right people around you yet.
When I was first starting out as a writer in the online world, I was nervous. What if I wasn’t actually any good at writing? What if I embarrassed myself? What if I proved to everyone what I felt deep down: That I wasn’t worth paying?
We all need someone to help us along. A mentor, a cheerleader, someone who reminds us that yes, we are capable. For me that came by way of a writer and editor named Iva-Marie Palmer.
A former journalist-turned-author, Iva-Marie is the Los Angeles-based writer behind The End of the World As We Know It, a hilarious and incredibly fun sci-fi YA novel that I absolutely love and the middle school title, Gabby Garcia’s Ultimate Playbook. Her latest novel, Gimme Everything You’ve Got has been described as, “One part Judy Blume, one part Amy Schumer.”
I mean, c’mon! That’s perfection, right?
I asked Iva-Marie if she’d join us for a chat because she is witty, warm, and someone I feel like we can learn a thing or two from. Plus, I know you’ll love her as much as I do.
Tell me how you got into the author thing. I know you were a journalist for a bit.
Yep. I always loved reading and I wrote some funny poems as a kid, during a Shel Silverstein phase, but I avoided prose and it took half a lifetime for me to meander towards fiction writing.
Writing, more generally, was always something I was good at, or at least proficient at, and that’s how I very practically thought a career in journalism would allow me to write and have a regular paycheck, an idea that’s hilarious now. But, in terms of becoming an author, I rarely thought of my future in that way where I’d say, “I’m going to be the author of books.” The most vaunted my imaginings ever got was that for a time I thought I’d be a fashion designer, because my mom and grandma ran a boutique and I really enjoyed clothes. But I can’t draw. I think that the field seemed more reachable because I was around it all the time. Telling myself the truth, though, books and reading were my real love, but much more mystical than fashion -- I could picture the process by which someone’s idea for a garment became real, where I couldn’t do the same with books. I remember being awed by a book but being unable to conceive that it was a real person who’d written it, and not some kind of magical sprite.
I wish now I kept a diary but what it boils down to is that, when it came to writing down my stories, or even keeping a journal, I never felt like I’d be interesting enough. I’m from a basically unexceptional Illinois suburb and I thought you had to be anointed and special to be an author -- one of the sprites I mentioned -- and I knew I wasn’t anointed or special.
But I took a few fiction classes in college, though I wrote nothing great. Then, as a reporter, I was assigned a piece about a screenwriting class and visited a session, and ended up taking the class, and my completed screenplay got some kind of mention in a Chicago-area contest, which felt like validation. Then, my husband and I moved to Los Angeles, not with a for-sure plan to write for movies or TV but at least the inkling that we’d be around that world.
I was playing with some TV scripts when I pivoted -- I think that’s the word of the moment -- away from screenplays to novels and did a partial manuscript for National Novel Writing Month. That got me a job ghostwriting for a publisher. I wrote several books in a series about an L.A. high school. From there, we developed The End of the World As We Know It, which came out with my name on it. From there, things continued to progress to where I am now -- with about eight books under my name (three under a pseudonym) and more to come, I hope -- and I’ve learned enough about publishing to realize it’s not about being anointed or special but more about working your butt off and getting the slightest bit lucky.
“I don’t think the imposter feelings have always worked out terribly for me, because they’ve forced me to adopt a really work-a-day way about writing.”
So that’s when you realized you were an author?
No, I still felt like an imposter. Even now, I still have trouble introducing myself as a writer. The other day, we were out somewhere and I heard this guy introduce himself as a writer to strangers and, being me, I took a mental note of his name and looked him up. I saw he has like one picture book he self-published which absolutely counts as writing but it was one book. Yet, here he was, listing writing as his main gig. Meanwhile, I feel like calling myself an author is so indulgent that I have to say I have some sort of day job. So, I still take on a lot of freelance work to justify my fiction career. I feel like I need to have this practical thing to do and the fiction writing is some kind of treat. Even when it’s not.
Maybe it’s growing up middle class or maybe it’s the suburbs. Like, you still heard here or there, “oh, you can be anything you put your mind to” but my mind could never see too far into the future, and it also alighted on things that were as probable as they are possible, if that makes sense.
I don’t think the imposter feelings have always worked out terribly for me, because they’ve forced me to adopt a really work-a-day way about writing. Like, if I tell myself, I can only call myself a writer if I sit down today and creak out a few hundred words, then I’m at least making something, instead of waiting for magic.
But I do want to be less practical when it comes to my self-regard; there’s a Bob Dylan quote about figuring yourself to be the best at the thing you’re doing, something to that effect, and I’m working more and more to say to myself, “I can bring my skills to this thing I’m doing in a way no one else can.”
“The great thing about being a participant in a lot of activities and socializing, even when internally I might have been like, ‘oh my god, I feel so sweaty and awkward’ is that it puts you in a position to observe other people, as well as yourself around other people.”
How precious are you with your writing?
Maybe it’s due to a journalism career but I have few qualms about edits. Like, sure, my initial reaction to revision -- like if I get notes from an editor -- is to sometimes say, “WHAT ARE THEY THINKING?” But then I take a few hours, consider the notes and get cracking on changes, even if they mean deleting things. (Though I will diplomatically object to a change if it really doesn’t feel right.)
In terms of subject matter, I’m writing to bring pleasure. For a long time, I was nervous that this meant I was too unserious but I’ve gotten to a place where I think I balance comedy with real emotional moments, but the overall works are still weighted heavily toward fun. And that’s okay; I’m glad there are people who can delve into heavier material and make work that addresses trauma but as of now, that’s not where I live.
Yeah, that’s more my speed. I’m told I make people cry, whereas you never fail to make me laugh. Where’d your sense of humor come from?
Everyone in my family has a good sense of humor. So it could be genetic. But I think it also comes from being a relatively unpopular kid in middle school. You become observant. I was kind of odd in that I remember loving old Saturday Night Lives, and Mad Magazine more than Sassy or anything like that, and at around age 9, I started watching stand-up on HBO. For a brief moment as a kid, I do think I wondered if I could do stand-up.
I remember seeing Mad Magazine but never got into it.
No? I was in a kid bowling league that was attached to a drug store and whenever we’d bowl, I’d run over and check if they had the latest issue. I sucked at bowling but I felt like King Shit walking out of the pharmacy with the new Mad and a pack of Fun Dip.
You were on a bowling team? We had a duckpin lane in our town. Apparently it’s very regional, but growing up I thought it was normal. We’d toss these tiny little bowling balls down the lane while listening to 80s hair bands. It was very specific and very regional. Perhaps this is why I always feel like I’ve never really fit in? You seem to have that same feeling of being an outsider.
Yeah, by the end of middle school, I had a falling out with my best friend and the friends I did have were going to the other high school in town. Junior high was also a time of me liking boys and having them never like me back. I spent the summer before high school flying solo and anxious about going to a new school without a friend, much less a group of them. Especially as someone who’d been fairly shy up until then. I think that’s when I decided to be brave. I might still have internally been freaked out about participating or what have you, but literally losing my best friend was me experiencing the nightmare, so how much worse could it get if I tried putting myself out there more.
Freshman year of high school, I played three sports and was in a half-dozen clubs.
The great thing about being a participant in a lot of activities and socializing, even when internally I might have been like, ‘oh my god, I feel so sweaty and awkward’ is that it puts you in a position to observe other people, as well as yourself around other people. So that’s where some of the humor comes from: a confluence of interests, life events, and kind of out-of-body embarrassing moments.
Well, I’m glad you broke out of your shell. Our paths crossed when you were my editor at Disney. I loved working with you. You, along with the rest of the team, made everything better.
Aw, thanks! Everything I’ve ever written has gotten better through an editor. Ideally, you have an agent, and editors, and all the people in your life who you talk to about the project. Every one of them helps the writing along. Writing, or I guess publishing, isn’t nearly as solitary as anyone thinks.
“I’ve learned enough about publishing to realize it’s not about being anointed or special but more about working your butt off and getting the slightest bit lucky.”
What holds you back? Earlier you mentioned you still feel like an imposter.
Myself. It’s self-doubt. I think about what I’m supposed to be but I’m not. I fail to be decisive about what to work on. I can have a really good idea, but talk myself out of it by telling myself it’s not the right thing for me.
That, and I put all these layers on myself; I’ll be writing but questioning if I’m being a lousy parent, or should my house be cleaner, or why does my workspace look like garbage when someone on Instagram’s is gorgeous? And that can derail me if I let it spiral. Like, what I should be doing is writing without guilt and instead of imagining things for my work, I’m using mental energy on self-criticism.
And I think my sense of practicality can also hold me back at times. I worry that something will be a waste of time. That I’ll write something and it won’t sell and will have set me and my career back.
What or who moves you forward?
When the work is working. It’s such a great feeling that even when I feel uninspired and certain that what I’m doing is terrible, I will sit down to work because I’m chasing that feeling. It’s sort of like that hump toward taking a run when I’m tired; I do it because I know the end result will feel good.
And, my ego, if that’s the right word. Like, I talk a big self-doubt game but what’s impressive is that -- for all the enterprising ways I’ve found to beat myself up -- even after I do all that trash talking, there’s a me underneath who’s like, “oh fuck no, you are good at this. Get to work.” Maybe I’m not yet as good as I want to be, and maybe it’s good if I never am, but I can read my work and know I definitely have something pretty great going on, so why wouldn’t I keep pursuing it. If not this, then what else?
“...for all the enterprising ways I’ve found to beat myself up — even after I do all that trash talking, there’s a me underneath who’s like, ‘oh fuck no, you are good at this. Get to work.’”
You can find more of Iva-Marie’s books and other writings on her website ivamariepalmer.com, follow her on instagram @ivamarie and sign up for her substack that features interviews with other writers like Julie Buxbuam and Anna Carey here.
In the meantime, please remember to surround yourself with the people who make your work better and remind you of your worth. You deserve that.