Hump Days Are Just Fine – The Great Imposter

Today is Wednesday, the eternal Hump Day, when we all just try to get over the mid-week/work-week hump so we can focus on getting to Friday.

But today that hump looks a lot less challenging, because yesterday was a great day. The latest magazine article dropped where I got to talk about The Claire Saga with a relatively new on-line magazine called Bold Journey.

https://boldjourney.com/?s=Tom+McCaffrey

As most have you have discovered by now, my shameless self-promotion gene is dominant, and I will never turn down an opportunity to plug my books. The Squeaky Wheel Syndrome is a thing. I like the oil.

But I am particularly proud of this article because it appeared in a magazine that really tries to help others through sharing personal experiences. Check out their mission statement:

My topic was overcoming The Imposter Syndrome. That really is a thing:

https://microsoftstart.msn.com/en-us/health/ask-professionals/in-expert-answers-on-mentalillness/in-mentalillness?questionid=he2bqf6y&type=condition&source=bingmainline_conditionqna

Now, for the record, I’ve never been officially diagnosed with it, since I never go to doctors of any type, but I recognize the symptoms, and one doesn’t need a doctor to diagnose a bullet wound to your chest.

Truth is . . . .

Throughout my life I’ve always felt that I was punching above my weight class. I’ve been incredibly lucky in life, and, despite my best efforts at self-sabotage, I always manage to end up in a pretty good position. Always better off than I just was. But every time I’ve gotten that lucky break I had to deal with the feeling (the knowledge) that I didn’t deserve it. That I wasn’t really good enough to deserve the rewards I was reaping.

It was true when Lisa Wallen agreed to marry me, back in the late 70s, when I was on the balls of my ass. As a father now, I can tell you that if the 70s Tom McCaffrey showed up to date my daughter, he’d be running from shotgun pellets – and not very far.

But it’s always been a thing.

It was true when, after tanking High School, I got into Fordham University. Was true when, after tanking FU, I managed to come back and graduate Magna Cum Laude at Lehman College. Was true when, at Lehman College, my first attempt at writing a live play, Revelations, – about transgender unrequited love written back in the late 70’s – won the City University of New York’s first Jacob Hammer Award, despite going against a number of wonderful NYC writers submitting far more mainstream and well-written fare. Was true when, with my checkered and questionable-at-best academic record, I got into Fordham University School of Law and afterwards, landed a job at one of the most prestigious law firms in the country (Hey, Pete Sheridan and John Bricker).

The strange thing was that throughout those times of crashing and burning there was always someone who would appear out of the woodwork, and would tell me that, despite my obvious shortcomings, they still believed in me. They would pick me up, dust me off, and push me forward. Upward Phoenix!

Looking back at all of those angels, let me take this moment to thank each and every one of you. You know who you are.

In other words, the Universe (or in the BIC vernacular, God) would not let me fail.

Now, don’t get me wrong, the luck doesn’t work with gambling. Irish fortunes have been lost in my family’s heritage. As a result, I’m the first one cleaned out in any game of chance, and I’ve never won Lotto, despite being a regular at that table. Indeed, I am so certain of my virulent anti-luck in gambling, that if I wanted to end the world, right now, all it would take is for me to bet on the sun rising tomorrow. The power is frightening.

But getting back to the Universe always shoving me forward, out onto that stage of success, each time I landed there in my latest lucky position before the spot lights, I was struck with stage fright. The little devil on my shoulder was right there stage whispering – “you don’t deserve this, you don’t belong here, you are definitely going to fuck this up. And they all know it!”

Now once I was out there working as a lawyer, I knew I couldn’t default into fuck-up mode, because by then I had a wife and the first of my three children in tow. Side note – since my Imposter Syndrome wouldn’t allow me to believe that I could make it as a writer, and now I had a wife and a kid, I abandoned that dream for law. And that only added to my Imposter Syndrome stress. Each day I was wondering when the present powers would discover I was a fraud, and destroy my life.

Early life as a lawyer in a big firm is the equivalent of a legal talent Ponzi scheme. Bottom layers of bright young associates feed the output of their respective brilliance up through other layers of older lawyers towards the pinnacle of the collective pyramid until it reaches the partners, who capitalize on that brilliance, win cases and make lots of money. Don’t get me wrong, those partners earned that right by working their way up for many years through that same pyramid. The triangle form telegraphs that the pool gets smaller as it reaches the top. Its structure is set up to cull the dead wood – and certainly the imposters.

Also, thinking in a collective setting is not my forte. I don’t play well with others.

So, I was constantly subjected to group think, usually in the direction of a certain legal argument on some major case that I wasn’t quite feeling, intuitively. My Imposter Syndrome response was always that it must be me, I was too stupid to understand what these brilliant lawyers around me were saying. But I always went along with these brilliant minds around me, because I didn’t want to get caught out just not appreciating their arguments because I snuck into the party through the intellectual back door.

Once I left these law firms for smaller ones, and I could shine on a more individual level, I started to understand that maybe it wasn’t me, that maybe I should trust my intuition.

And that was when I began to realize that maybe I wasn’t an imposter after all.

So, I stopped caring what other lawyers thought. Sure, I would listen to what they had to say, but then let my inner voice tell me which way to go. I trusted who I was and what my mind could do. I didn’t judge myself against the standards of other lawyers. I didn’t try to fit into their pre-conceived mold. I stopped worrying about their approval. The funny thing was, that suddenly, my legal career fell right into place and took off.

And once I understood that, then the Universe brought me into my present law firm and working as equals with a brilliant and funny as fuck lawyer named Robert Meloni.

We are the ultimate odd couple – he’s Felix. He’s the perfect face of the firm. He’s brilliant, musically gifted, knows the copyright law like he wrote it and he leaves me alone to be who I am as a lawyer.

For almost two decades we have been constantly surprising the world of commercial litigation in the entertainment field. We have a great record. And on top of everything else, I’ve had a lot of fun doing it.

And that success in overcoming the Imposter Syndrome as a lawyer, helped me overcome IS in the profession I abandoned four decades before.

If you ever want to fuck your chances of ever succeeding as a writer, ask for advice on how to write from other writers. Creative writing professors may even be worse. Most often they’ll trot out the truisms espoused by the great literary lions, and tell everyone in great detail what you should not do. Or what they think you should do.

I say, with my 20/20 six decades of hindsight, that we all should just follow our gut. Stop trying to fake being someone else.

Once I stopped giving a fuck about what other lawyers said I needed to do and be in order to be successful in the legal field, I took that same approach when I sat down to write The Wise Ass when I was 63 years old.

I wrote exactly what I wanted (the voices in my head), how I wanted, and broke pretty much every rule of writing, spelling and grammar, that have ever existed. I only wrote the story once in one shot in 3 months. I overcame the Imposter Syndrome by not trying to be the people that have established the standards that for decades I had been trying to fake.

I’ve applied that same – I’m not going to be anyone’s imposter attitude – to the next four books I have written in three years.

As of this 3 am morning, all five books of The Claire Saga were sitting in the top 100 of Amazons best sellers in Humorous Science Fiction.

So, despite being the ugliest creature appearing in a magazine full of beautiful people,

I was honored to share the short version of the Imposter Syndrome story in that wonderful magazine that I just recounted in this blog post.

So, my fine, five readers, be yourself. That’s why the Universe put you here.

Now, I need to get out there and start my day.

First, my kitty cuddles, and my rounds.

So no more faking it.

Let’s get out there and make today a great one.