At last, there is a name for it. In amongst all the preposterous bluster of wordage we are given to read at work, at least they have finally identified a syndrome I can be a part of.
Unfortunately, and inevitably, the acceptance and 'outing' of Imposter Syndrome was only by way of the author's acceptance of the prognosis from which he could 'go forwards', overcome it and, presumably, learn to love Big Brother.
Well, let's not go that far. Let us, if we want to, hang on to our precious imposter status and not let them use it as a way of subverting the maverick impulse and persuading us that we are all one of them. We are not and we never wanted to be.
I was an imposter when I played sport because really I should have been reading books. I am an imposter in literary circles because really I'd prefer to be playing pool with a few mates.
I rode 217.888 miles in 12 hours on a bike but I was an imposter as a cyclist.
I've won a few very minor prizes for poetry but I'm an imposter as a poet.
But, mostly, in every day life, even after 28 years in the civil service, I'm an imposter there. And I'm sure that the majority of people there think they are, too. It's not for them, the management plan and the developmental objective, they are all the odd one out and such things are only for those who have career ideas afoot.
But I am at least grateful to have my syndrome identified. Like Groucho Marx, I'd never want to be a member of any club that would have me as a member. It is a condition to be relished, though, not a problem that requires solving.
I never wanted to be a beatnik. I never wanted to be a student. I never wanted to be a 'poet', well, I did but then I changed my mind. I was never a 'company man'.
So, if I'm not a poet, not a sportsman, not an intellectual and not a professional 'going forwards', it comes as some surprise to find how often I find myself so 'comfortable in my own skin'. It can happen reading George Eliot, listening to Danny Baker, Vicky Coren or Stephen Fry or, as now, on a run of six consecutive winners on the horse racing.
Will I ever back another loser. Well, yes. And probably very soon. But, after this run over the last three evenings,
Ennistown 9/4, rule 4 applied
Pyjama Party 2/5
Ahoy There 9/4
Ulis de Vassy 5/6
Welcometothejungle 13/8
Queen of Sicily 5/4, rule 4 applied,
then I surely ought to share with you a tip for tomorrow.
Sadly, there is no jump racing tomorrow, so I'm not on solid ground but I have to tell you I've backed Mr. Singh (in the first at Newmarket) and also that, regretfully, I am also an imposter at horse racing.
I'm afraid once you have imposter syndrome and decide you like it, there is no cure.
David Green
- David Green (Books) is the imprint under which I published booklets of my own poems. The original allocation of ISBN numbers is used up now, though. The 'Collected Poems' are now available as a pdf. The website is now what it has become, often more about music than books and not so often about poems. It will be about whatever suggests itself.