Camille! Oh, how I’ve missed you!
I’m back on my grind! I’m back on my grind! Look at me! I’m writing today to have an honest conversation about imposter syndrome, self-worth, and finding your fit. I had a friend recently confess to me that she was feeling like an imposter in an organization we’re in together, that she didn’t feel like she really belonged. I’ve gotta say, I know the feeling well. As a person (and a woman) in the creative arts, especially in comedy, feeling like you’re not 100% the best, funniest, interesting, most talented person in the room can be crushing. The best thing I ever did for myself was learning to exist in the middle. That not being THE BEST in every room does not automatically make me the worst. And further to that end, I can be talented, interesting, and funny without being the capital B best. Living in that in-between, “good enough” place is comfortable, safe and warm. Being on top is scary and you always feel like you’re waiting for a fall from grace. The “good enough” space is so underrated. It’s like a magical fairytale land where anything is possible. You can make art without pressure, you can feel satisfied with yourself, and you can cease making value judgements about where you stand in relation to other people. Not that it’s easy to get there.
Last year, I started doing improv amidst people who were WAY better at it than me, and that might be the single best thing that happened to me in terms of comedy. I learned from them, stole from them (btw, you NEED to read Steal Like an Artist by Austin Kleon), and had something to strive for. To be very clear, you don’t need to strive to be the best to be good. Hell, you don’t even have to be striving to be better to be good. I think there’s this weird limbo place between ALWAYS TRYING TO BE BETTER (hello, toxic productivity culture) and YOU’RE GOOD AS YOU ARE NEVER CHANGE YOU BEAUTIFUL UNICORN (hello, toxic positivity culture). That limbo place is good. You can be improving, but not always looking to the next thing. Celebrate your accomplishments as they come. Understand the beauty you bring to the art you make, and adapt your art and grow alongside it.
As you well know, Camille, improv is a collaborative process. You get to make art with people who you think are cool as hell, and who oftentimes, are funnier than you. Love those people. Love that they’re funnier than you. This can only make you funnier, can only make you better. Improv is about tossing your pride aside and being stupid onstage, so you need to throw every last vestige of that pride away. Let those dregs of insecurity seep down the proverbial improv drain. This is easier said than done (lord knows I’m not even close to there yet), but it’s worth saying, I think. Improv, for me, was the corner in which I felt like I could not be the best and still be okay, still be good. I hope it’s that way for you, but everyone has their own corner. Whether it’s a sport, club, job, or social group, there’s a spot. You’re bound to struggle on your way there, but you’ll find it.
One place I think this manifests itself is college applications, which I only say because it’s something I’ve been through recently (in the last 5 years, I mean–Camille, you know this far more intimately than I). Getting a waitlist, deferral, or rejection can read like a giant flashing sign that says “YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH.” Eli Rallo has this great idea that embarrassment is a choice, and rejection is simply redirection. A great mindset change is to say that each school that rejects you isn’t because you’re not good enough for them, it’s that your vibes don’t match. For each school that says “you’re not the right fit for us and therefore we may not be the right fit for you,” there will be one that says “CHOOSE US! PICK US! THE VENN DIAGRAM OF OUR VIBES IS A CIRCLE!” I’m of the mind that no matter what choice you make, it will have been the right one. You can find a place anywhere, you just have to look. Or make it. Either way, with a little (just a little) effort on your part to seek the “good enough” spaces in your life, you’ll stumble into something amazing.
I love and miss you dearly,
Lucy