FEATURED IN HARVARD BUSINESS REVIEW
Two years ago, I made a 180-degree career pivot from administrative work to entrepreneurship. I wanted to make a go at full-time content writing, so I jumped into the deep end. I spread a wide net (leaning heavily into my natural penchant for sales, no doubt) and landed more than 30 clients — from bloggers looking for ghostwriters to entrepreneurs who wanted YouTube scripts — in under six months. I felt very fortunate to have kickstarted my new career in such a powerful way, but with this success came the inevitable feeling that I was in over my head. Starting a new business venture was not like a job application. Now, I was the one determining whether I was qualified. Only a few weeks earlier, I had been assisting with other people’s projects, not managing my own. I had functioned in a supportive role, not leading and innovating. So, I choked my way through the first few calls with new clients, confessing that I was entering uncharted territory and really hadn’t taken on a project like theirs. Some clients were good-humored about my being new to the industry. But for those who were high on professionalism and low on amusement, I made a quick decision not to show my cards after the first few raised eyebrows. A cacophony of voices vied for space in my head, telling me I couldn’t achieve what I was trying to do. We commonly call these voices “the inner critic” or “imposter syndrome.” I walked away from the corner my critic had bullied me into and invited it to join me for coffee instead. Immediately, it raised objections: Did you just promise someone you would SEO-optimize their content? You don’t know anything about that. Do you know how you’ll deliver without enough knowledge on that subject? Instead of cowering or avoiding, I considered every objection rationally. I spoke to myself as I would have a friend attempting to solve a difficult problem. I asked: Do you know how to run a content writing business? I answered: Technically, no. But I do know how to write and interact with people with kindness and professionalism. I asked: Do you have the wherewithal to devise solutions to business problems? I answered: Yes. I think I can handle that. My mildly reluctant “yes” was grounded in a concept called self-efficacy — the kryptonite to imposter syndrome. The concept of self-efficacy can be traced back to Albert Bandura, a professor and psychologist working in the late 1970s who explored the idea that an individual’s positive belief in their own competence for a task positively impacts their performance. Studies have shown that students with high-self efficacy will attribute many of the failures they experience to a lack of attempt rather than a lack of ability. Meanwhile, students who doubt their abilities, giving way to imposter syndrome, are more likely to procrastinate or give up. Once I discovered this, I began to practice self-efficacy regularly. This doesn’t mean I pretended I was an expert at everything. It means I gave myself permission to be good at the things I already knew I excelled at, or at least had the potential to. I imagined what my future self — an established writer — would be like. How organized she would be. How confidently she would communicate. I built a proverbial house for my professional persona to live in and kept decorating the walls, even if there were no visitors yet. When people asked me what was happening in my career, I crafted my responses more intentionally. I answered, “I’m a writer,” instead of, “I’m trying to be a writer.” When clients asked how I planned to confront a challenge, I decided, then and there, how I’d handle it — even if it was something I’d never faced before. “How do you normally collect insights?” someone once asked. I took a quick breath and responded, “We can do this in a number of ways.” As time went on, I was able to adjust my spiel and recommend what I knew worked. In the meantime, I had to start somewhere. I also indulged in more positive self-talk. When I noticed intrusive, self-doubting thoughts, I approached them from a place of curiosity. The default soundtrack in my mind used to wonder: What if the world doesn’t need another writer? What if I’m just exhausting a saturated market? I made an adjustment: What if the opposite is true? What if someone has been waiting for what I’m trying to create? Eventually, on the advice of trusted friends, I started an LLC (limited liability company). This helped me to walk through the metaphorical front door as if I belonged there, in the realm of success. While humility is valuable, anyone who has started a business understands that there are enough critics out there. We have to, at the very least, be on our own sides. Even so, and even with my current success, there are still days when my inner critic gets the best of me. When this figure shows up with their permanent scoff, I seek to understand what’s brought them to my door and evaluate whether it’s worth inviting them in. Sometimes they ask a really good question that helps me bulk up my skills. Sometimes they’re just there to ruin my day. I now see myself as a self-efficacious beginner wrapped in a journey that changes every day. I’ve accepted that it’s ok to be an imposter along the way, as long as I can be my own friend and a loudest cheerleader, too.
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