on Anne R Allen:

What? There’s an upside to Impostor Syndrome?

Yes.

A sane, healthy mid-point exists between being stalled out by Impostor Syndrome and obnoxious, raging egomania so rancid even your dog hates you.

Authentic modesty keeps you real — and productive.

A certain degree of Impostor Syndrome can be the necessary spur that motivates you to work harder and get better.

It can give you the energy to try again — even if you’re on the umpteenth effin draft of the d*mn chapter and you still can’t get it right. (Until you do.)

Impostor Syndrome — call it discontent — can propel you toward trying harder or trying again — persistent effort that might reveal ability even you didn’t know you had.

Or as writer Molly Fischer put it, “Impostor Syndrome gets a bad rap. It’s the flame that burns beneath my ass, the constant low hum of anxiety forcing me to do stuff before anyone notices all the stuff I have not done and feel pretty certain I can’t do.”

Besides—