IMPOSTER SYNDROME
Imposter Syndrome has been on my mind this month.
It’s been coming up a lot in posts I read and interviews from other artists who all say they’ve had bouts of it. The actor Sam Neill says he hates the table read for a new show … it’s the time in the process when he’s convinced people will realise he can’t act!
For me it’s the moment just before everyone comes into the workshop - regardless of whether it’s a new group or an established group … that moment before it starts, when I’ve got my plan, my aims … and the excited anticipation of not knowing exactly what might happen. That’s the time in the process for me when I’m convinced people will see through me.
Within 5 minutes though, after the initial introductions, the first game is played, the permissions given and the laughter and creativity starts that my anxiety subsides and my imposter syndrome is forgotten.
Experience also helps.
Helps me to realise that this feeling is temporary.
Help me to realise that even if things do go completely wrong, that sh*t happens and I can learn from it and move on - in fact that’s actually one of the fundamental points I make when I conduct training sessions now - the importance of a network for facilitators to discuss things that went wrong, or were unexpected, because as I’ve pointed out many times, so often we’re working in isolation, so knowing that you will bounce back and have support if a workshop goes completely pear shaped is OK … honestly, I could write a book full of my own f*ck-ups!
Having experience helps the bounce back; helps to manage the multitude of all-too familiar situations that can arise in a workshop; helps with knowing that this game will work in this way; helps in knowing that if someone is reluctant or unsure what to do that I have the tools to support and guide them to succeed.
There is a downside though … the fact that it’s possible to get stale. To rely solely on the games and processes you know … there can come a point where it becomes routine - which also brings me back to my point of the importance of a network in order to keep your practice fresh and to experience familiar games and situations from a different perspective.
I literally had a conversation the other night in which I was discussing with a facilitator the all-too-familiar situation of a new voice in the room, saying to a group things you (as the established/regular facilitator) have always said to a group, but because it’s a new voice, they actually hear it for the first time!
Refreshing practice is important, but then so is reaching a stage in your career where you have decades of experience and it’s time to pass the baton for the next generation to invent and explore. It’s lovely actually watching emerging facilitators now, speeding through games, forgetting to breathe, missing opportunities and moments in order to get through and produce the workshop they’ve planned. Not in a bad way, but in a wonderfully rookie way where my own experience can then just gently suggest and support and give them the confidence they need to move away from their prepared plan. (Some of my best and most memorable workshops have been ones where I’ve abandoned my plan altogether or decided even on the journey to the workshop that I’m going to change it completely!)
My experienced voice also allows me to stand up for myself (and others) in situations now too …
“No! I cannot run a physical theatre workshop in a room no bigger than a cupboard filled with chairs and tables.”
“No! Moving a group with complex autism into a room this over-stimulating and that they’re unfamiliar with, AND changing the time last minute will be a mistake.”
“Excuse me, but could I please ask all the support in the room on their phones/talking/looking uninterested to come and join in or take their conversations outside!”
The list goes on.
Allowing and supporting the next generation to come in and take the baton is vital … especially as the art of drama facilitation (as a creative specialty in its own right) is still very new. I am literally the second generation passing onto the third right now … and I am proud to know who’s shoulders I stand on with regards to the emergence of this craft.
I am an exceptional facilitator - and yet, I still feel like an imposter sometimes. And that’s OK. It means I’m still open to learning and keeping my practice fresh and inspiring.
What I'm reading (and listening to) this month:
If it's all improvised, Why does it often look the same?
The Long History of Ignorance, Rory Steward via BBC Sounds
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