by Lorna Stuber
Imposter syndrome is an uninvited guest. It lets itself in through an unlocked door and makes itself at home, helping itself to anything in the fridge.
A lot of the discussion posts I see in editors’ or writers’ groups on social media talk about imposter syndrome. Why do so many of us allow this uninvited guest to wander into our homes?
I was a teacher for almost 30 years before changing careers and becoming a full-time editor and writer. For the last 29 of those years, I didn’t need affirmation that I had done well; I was confident in my training and my skills, and I knew I was always putting my best foot forward for my students.
But when I switched careers, the doubt that I had in my first year of teaching found its way to my new address. I recognized it as it came down the street toward my new house, so I was a bit more assertive with it than I had been in my early 20s. I knew it had the potential to make a huge mess in my house if I let it in, but a gentle pushback was all that was required to keep it out. I created my boundary, and it respected that line in the sand.
In the fall of 2022, when I saw that nominations were open for the Editors Canada Tom Fairley Award for Editorial Excellence, I looked at the eligibility requirements and the supporting documentation required for a nomination. When I read that the award was intended to recognize achievement in a specific work, one project that I had worked on for almost two years immediately came to mind. In fact, I’m still working on it, but the first book of a three-part memoir was published in May 2022, and therefore qualified me to nominate myself for the award.
My friends teased me. “You’re nominating yourself?”
“They are encouraging self-nominations!” I replied. “It said so in the email they sent out!”
On the surface, I also thought self-nomination was a bit presumptuous and hubristic, but I thought, If I don’t nominate myself, who will? I have no way of predicting the future, but I suspected that if any project I work on in my editing career gives me a good shot at this award, this one was it. Because of the scope of this project, I felt like I could be in the running for this award. I am proud of the work that I did on this project. I’m proud of all that I do for each of my clients. And this was a chance for me to receive rare public and high-profile recognition for that work.
The bigger question was, “Why would I be deserving of this award?”
I knew the work I had done on this project was unique and went far above and beyond what the vast majority of my projects entail. This wasn’t a manuscript that was sent to me by a client who required a light copy edit or even a thorough developmental edit. The client had initially told me his goal was to write his memoir and that it would be no longer than 120,000 words. The file he sent me was a brain dump of 80,000 words. He included a note indicating that he was rethinking his approach and that his new plan meant this 80,000-word blast would become three books. It did: 80,000–85,000 words each. Two and a half years after we officially began collaborating, we are still working on the third.
Why did I take a shot at winning this award? Yes, the cash prize would come in handy. But it’s more than that. So much of our work as editors is done in isolation. What we do with and for clients is like that of the costume designer for a theatrical production, TV show, or movie. The viewer (or reader) sees the result of all the hard work, but that work is not often recognized beyond the thanks we get from clients. Anyone who is not in the costume design industry has no idea what it entails to bring a custom-made Renaissance gown from a concept on paper to the stage. Likewise with putting a book together.
We editors may or may not be mentioned in the acknowledgements of a book. If we are, we have no way of knowing how many readers read those acknowledgements. Of those who do, how many of them understand that our contribution to the book was much more than correcting a few commas and spelling mistakes?
Many who have made Oscar- or Golden Globe-winning speeches have emphasized that it’s an honour just to be nominated. It is, and although I nominated myself for the Tom Fairley award, others recognized my work by selecting me as a finalist. Still more recognize the value of this book by buying and reading it. A year after it was released, I still wake up now and then to see it has jumped to #1 on Amazon’s bestseller list in both the Ethiopian History and East African History categories and into the top 10 of the Black & African American Biographies category. (For the first few weeks after release, it was outselling Barack Obama’s A Promised Land. How’s that for affirmation?)
Imposter syndrome is always lurking. For those of us who dislike confrontation, it’s easy to let that visitor come in and help itself to some leftover spaghetti and meatballs. But it’s more important to feed ourselves first.
Lorna Stuber is a professional editor, proofreader, writer, and ghostwriter based in Okotoks, Alberta. She spends most of her money on travelling to fascinating and often obscure destinations.
This article was copy edited by Bethany Lake, a writer and editor from Halifax, Nova Scotia. As a journalist, she has written for numerous publications across Canada, and is a regular contributor to the magazine Rue Morgue.
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