From Expert to Novice
A great deal has been written about the transitional processes someone goes through when learning new skills, languages, or just about anything that takes us out of our comfort zone. There are two terms often associated with the mastering of knowledge and competences that dig into our sense of self: “novice to expert” and “imposter syndrome.”
I want to take just a sentence or two and explain these two concepts. Bear with me. I think there is a strong relationship to what’s out there in the scientific literature and what we do as writers.
First, “novice to expert.” This is the process that occurs when we really begin to internalize data and translate that into information. What do I mean by that? As an example, a novice will collect bits and pieces of data—such as a medical student might monitor a patient’s blood pressure or temperature or lab results or whatever. Then the student would sit down and try and piece the puzzle together. While, the attending physician will glance at the chart, listen to the patient, and offer an opinion without needing much time to think. How does this happen? Experience isn’t the only answer. It’s more than that.
Something comes together as we really know our stuff. Often we can’t explain why that is. “I just know,” is frequently the response. There are examples in all of our lives in which we really can’t explain the step-by-step process our minds take. We just jump to the answer and we are correct.
“Imposter Syndrome” is when we have the credibility to stand tall and be in control or take the credit. But, deep in our stomachs we really wonder if we deserve it. “Do I have the knowledge and the expertise to pull it off?” “Am I really good enough?” “Why do all these people think I am capable?” “Maybe someone will wake up and notice that I am faking it, an imposter—the whole thing might collapse.”
Ever had those thoughts?
I have labeled this blog as Expert to Novice, for many of us have been experts in fields far apart from our current writing experiences. We have been at the top of our game. And now? We are learning new skills, a new industry, a new vocabulary, finding new friends. We have had to face the experience of yet again becoming a novice moving towards becoming an expert. We’ll do it. Many of us have already made the leap.
But I suspect even among those who are multi-published, there is at times that niggling feeling—am I really good enough? “What if someone discovers I’m actually an imposter?”
Has this happened to you? What are your thoughts on this? I’d love to hear.
13 comments:
You've been reading my mail.
Because I sold on proposal and not a completed manuscript, I am forever worrying the editor won't like the finished product. Or that I'll run out of plot ideas before I finish this book.
This is kinda ironic since plotting has always been what I do best, but it goes back to what you talked about.
I really related to this blog because I have been a success in many things in my life. It's kinda scary to be a novice again.
Great blog, Cassy.
OOOOOOOH, I bet a lot of writers suffer from occasional Impostor Syndrome.
I know I do.
People are always asking me for advice. I tell them what I can, but I try to remember to add that this is based on my experience/ method/ process/ opinion, and that mine is far from the last word.
Far.
Really far.
As in light years.
I hear that Liz, and I so agree. It's very scary selling on proposal. My young adult editor loved the finished product, thank God, but who's to say my adult editor will. I don't know if I will ever feel like an expert when it comes to writing. Writing is such a reflection of who we are because these are our words, something we created. We put ourselves out there to be judged and it's scary. You don't get more vulnerable than that.
This is kind of where I am, Cassy. Imposter Syndrome. I keep wondering if I'm really good enough to do this, and like Liz said, will the editor be happy in the end? What if she wants revisions I can't accomplish? But along with that little voice saying, "You're not good enough," is another one saying, "You know you can do it." It's an exciting and scary place. I think I'll listen to the voice that says I can.
I hear you, guys. Big time. It's so hard to be so good at what we used to do, or what we do during the normal business hours.
Our families aren't used to the change in our habits. My dear husband, who is over-the-top encouraging, still makes comments about my need to head to the computer.This is from someone whose Blackberry buzzes every three seconds.
My point is, new identities, new ventures, new vocabularies are intimidating. We are the pioneers.
Of course there are many before us, successful folks. But that is not to diminish the value of our efforts. We are tackling a tough industry. We have skills and knowledge that will take us from the novice status to expert. In that process we will shed the impostor imagery.
Can you hear my private cheer section kicking in?
Yep, I suffer from that syndrome, Cassy! My very first book signing was at a national RWA conference, and I was thinking, "Dear God, what am I doing here? Someone call my mom and have her come get me!" I still have the feeling that I'm tricking people into liking my books. The good news is, that feeling fades. So keep the faith, fight the good fight and all that!
Kristan: One of my favorite quotes from you is something like (I won't get this just right):
1) Believe in yourself
2) Get over yourself
Thanks for your comments. You are one of those who I big-time look up to.
Cassy
Do we ever stop learning? Be it as a butcher, baker or candlestick maker. Or as a writer.
Isn't learning what its all about? I know I never want to stop learning and by learning become a better writer.
Regardless of your field, I shudder to think of being in the hands of any expert who does not occasionally doubt themselves. I don't care how established you are or how proficient in your skill, all of us can get better. It's when you think "I've arrived." or "I now know all I need to know." that your skills and drive atrophy and you become a menace to your career and even your profession. The real experts are those who can use that doubt to constantly compel themselves to improve. Don't let that little voice freak you out. Thank it and prove it wrong.
Two quotes come to mind upon reading this post. Stephen spielburg once said he only knew he should be doing a story when he found himself asking "can I really get away with this?" and editor. and editor/speaker marcela Landras said at a conference "most writers think (to get published) they must write as well as James Joyce, when they really only need to write as well as James Patterson." Landras explains the importance of networking and creating a platform of competency (eh...such as this blog!) Lauri Brett
I think the comments are spot-on about what it means to be an expert. One of my best role models is my husband. He's a design architect (different from some other types) and he is constantly saying, "some folks will like your work, some won't. It doesn't matter. Do what works for you and then move on to the next project."
I've noticed my writing has improved once I stopped looking over my shoulder and trusting my fingers to connect with my brain.
Oh very good. It's scary because I feel that way all the time. Why do I think any reader will even like what I write.
It's so far from what my career was in banking and communications. Now I have to write a story and keep the reader engaged. There isn't a day that goes by that I wonder--What am I doing and why do I think I can?
Thanks Cassy!
Scary it can be, Mary. I hear you. But, think about it. What have we ever done that wasn't scary. I had a conversation with my younger daughter when she was in grammar school, scared about doing well. Then we had the same conversation in middle school, again in high school, well--you get the picture. Last week we had the same conversation again and she's in her third year of medical school at a top-notch institution. I think the point is that we are so quick to judge ourselves, to see the cracks and flaws. The world might love us way before we love ourselves.
Thanks, Mary.
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