An Imposing Syndrome

Hey friendly folks,

It’s been a minute, but once again it is I, Alex. I’m sure you’ve missed me, but let’s be honest Phillip and Allie have done a fine job of holding court. It’s my turn today and I’m going talk a little about something that’s really important to me, and something we’ve all struggled with at one point or another. Hell, I’m not convinced it ever truly goes away, but maybe we can all get better at noticing it and moving on anyway. Let’s get into some Imposter Syndrome.

What We Call Ourselves

I’m the Writer, Game Designer and Creative Director of MVGIE Studios. I often have a problem with titles, especially ones given to me. I tell myself it’s because they’re pretentious or unimportant, that if we just do the work the titles will sort of manifest around us because we’ve earned them, but that’s nonsense and just me getting in my own way while undermining what might be important to other people. That being said I’ve been doing some major mental acrobatics to justify (to myself) my title of Creative Director lately (even just capitalising it makes me feel icky). I make these sort of half-jokes to Allie and Phillip that’s actually just me gauging their reaction to me having the title. Then when without a hint of irony they call me the Creative Director, I explain why they’re wrong. This isn’t a new problem for me, I’ve had this as long as I can remember.

Double Standards

My Nana was a powerful and deeply clever woman and whenever I talk about her I think fondly of how she knew I was a writer long before I did. That was partly because she saw how exuberant I was whenever I got to tell tall tales and how utterly inebriated I was in my own verbosity, but I think it was also because of my own denial. I didn’t think you could call someone a writer until they published something. My flawed logic was so daftly binary that it didn’t matter what they wrote about, what kind of publication it was or more importantly all the time spent researching or even actually writing. They wrote something, they published something, ergo writer.

Here’s the funny thing about that though. I wrote something, I published something and guess what? I didn’t call myself a writer. In fact, if it was brought up I would default do a toxic habit of qualifying it as ‘not a real publication’. I didn’t even include it in my application when applying for my masters… A masters in Creative Writing. I invented new barriers for myself that I wouldn’t have considered if it was someone else telling me about their achievement. I would have congratulated them, and been proud of what they’d accomplished and encouraged that sense of pride in themselves. Why couldn’t I apply that to myself?

Some Coxian Wisdom

The very first lesson in my very first class back when I was studying Game Design has stuck with me ever since. Though not the one teaching the class, the course lead came to welcome us all to the course and to congratulate us. He congratulated us on becoming game designers. Of course I thought this was ludicrous. How could we possibly be game designers when we hadn’t even bloody started? I certainly hadn’t designed a game, nor had I released a game, but as far as he was concerned that didn’t matter and if we let it matter it would only serve to hold us back. He was right. Obviously.

After the initial wave of self-doubt subsided I actually felt courage. My chest literally swelled with pride, and this was during COVID so I could see my daft self on camera. It didn’t last long, once the class started I immediately returned to my (dis)comfort blanket of doubt and incompetence, but his insistence that we call ourselves game designers never went away. It was a theme mirrored in the other lecturers that prevailed throughout the course. To this day, whenever I find doubt in myself, or feel guilty for calling myself a writer, a designer or even Creative Director, I think about that and find the encouragement to at least brush some of it off.

Directing Creatively

I’m sure other people will have their own definition of what a Creative Director is and I can’t say much about that, but I know what it means for us. It means responsibility (I’m fighting ever fibre of my being not to make that reference). Sure, there’s all the fun and creative responsibilities for the game; ‘What is the game?’, ‘What story are we trying to tell?’, and ‘Who is the game for?’, but these questions are only a part of what the role requires. It’s also being responsible for the creative strategies of the studio like designing the brand and marketing, being able to communicate concepts internally so that everyone is working towards the same goal, and then also communicate that externally so potential publishers/investors see your vision and its potential before it’s finished. You’re a gatekeeper for what goes in and what goes out. Thinking about these responsibilities has brought me a lot of comfort and brings me closer to feeling like I ‘earned the apron’.

I think that’s a halfway decent way of dealing with imposter syndrome. Especially if it’s about your job. I feel like I’m being proactive when I consider what that role means to our studio and I can clearly define the responsibilities that come with it. It doesn’t matter if I’m an expert in all the different aspects of it, it matters that I can set achievable goals. Day to day, week to week and month to month. I do the things I can and allow myself time to learn how to do the things I can’t. I see my own progress in real time.

The Minute You Say You Are

Over the years I’ve thought a lot about what that lecturer said and what it means to me. It changes day to day but I’ve whittled it down to two possibilities. The first being that it’s something I am, and I’ll earn it on the way, everyday. Now, that’s not to say that you should set whatever title it is you’re struggling with as a pipe dream (you only dream when you’re asleep anyway) but why can’t it be a goal that you’re already earning? An apprentice plumber wouldn’t qualify themselves and say ‘sorry pal, I’m just an apprentice’. Naw, they’re a plumber that’s on the path to being an even better one.

The second is that I am, because I said I am, and that’s enough. Why can’t you call yourself a composer or an artist? If you’re dedicating yourself to these pursuits then that’s also enough. Most of the jobs out there don’t come with this kind of identity crisis (though I guarantee you people in those jobs still feel like an imposter), you get the job, and you get a title so ordained by the corporate powers that be.

There’s a great coming of age movie called The Tender Bar about a young aspiring writer, and not to spoil the end (which is to say I’m going to spoil the very end of the movie), as the main character drives off into the sunset, he talks about how a lawyer passes the bar exam and in the text it tells them they’re a lawyer. Creatives don’t really have that. We become writers the minute we say we are. So do yourself a favour and just tell yourself you are. If you can’t do it for you, then do me the favour and do it for me. I already believe you so you might as well also.

Anyway, that’s it from me today. I’m not sure if this will help, but today was one of those wonderful writing days where I sat down to write something completely different but this is what came out and I’m glad it did.

Feel free to harangue and pester me in the usual noisy places or just email me at alex@mvgiestudios.com.

Pea Suit

Alex

Creative Director