In this post, I examine rule #2 of my Communicate Good homepage video, which lists ten all-important “rules to live by” for communications and PR success. To see my post on Rule #1 (Don’t tell me what you do. Tell me why you do it.), follow this link.
What I’m about to say, I’ve never admitted publicly. Earlier in my career, I had a fear that people would think I was a fraud. I was struggling with what I later would learn was a very mild version of the phobia known as Imposter Syndrome.
To be clear, at no time have I ever been a fraud (or fraudulent), nor did I believe in any rational sense that this was the case. Like most phobias, this was one that irrationally sprang forth from my subconscious.
Have you ever felt this way, even a little bit?
Thankfully, I was handed some wisdom several years ago that helped me move beyond this fear. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
First let’s look at the reality of the situation. I have worked in the field of communications and PR consistently since 1994 and have accumulated a wealth of knowledge and expertise about my chosen profession. I have amassed experiences — both successes and failures — and served literally hundreds of clients during this time. I have run my own agency (twice), and articulated philosophies, approaches, methodologies, and systems for PR success. I have testimonials and endorsements from many satisfied clients. By any reasonable measure, I am not a fraud. And as much as I detest the term “expert,” it’s safe to say that I am more an expert than neophyte.
Yet the irrational sensation that I was a fraud dogged me at times. Ironically, I didn’t have this early in my career, when I actually didn’t know anything about PR. No, the fear grew slowly and quietly over time, as I ascended the corporate ladder in seniority and responsibility. The more I learned about PR and communications, the less I felt I knew. Typically, the fear was nothing more than a faint, nagging voice that I could easily squash, but every now and again it would shout at me. I would pass up speaking opportunities and the like — not because I feared public speaking, but because I feared being called out publicly for a lack of knowledge.
Several years ago, I was chatting with a public speaking consultant, and confessed how I sometimes felt. I was more than relieved when she told me that this fear was quite common among professionals. She explained that it was particularly prevalent among contemplative individuals: people who were more likely to question the universe than believe they had the answers. She explained that the phobia grows over time because every single nugget of information learned can generate an additional three questions. It reminded me of the wonderful saying, “It is a wise man who knows that he knows nothing.”
I asked the consultant what she told her clients who have this fear and her answer was straightforward and liberating. She said: “Know that you don’t have to have all the answers.”
It was the proverbial “aha” moment for me. In a business environment where everyone says they are an expert, I had always assumed that I needed to have all the answers … about anything remotely related to PR and marketing. I was being unrealistic and way too hard on myself.
To make matters worse, I have always been turned off by “know it alls.” And therefore, I had placed myself in an impossible situation: either A) act like I knew it all (and take on a characteristic that I disliked), or B) admit that I didn’t have all the answers and was therefore not an expert. When I realized that being an “expert” was not about having all the answers, I was freed from my dilemma.
So if being an expert is not about having all the answers, what does make someone an expert? This question was not only fundamental to my own success as a service practitioner, but to the success of my clients, who also want to be perceived as experts (and “thought leaders”) in their respective fields.
For starters, it’s important to recognize that as we learn more and more about our given areas of expertise, and become mired increasingly in the complexities and minutiae, we forget that other people are not equipped with even the basic information about our professions. What we consider foundational knowledge — things that are givens — are often outside the realm of the average person’s scope of experience. Therefore, when it comes to effective communications and PR, our job as experts is to distill the complexities of our work into its basic components. In other words, to spend less time worrying about every answer, and more time on how to convey the big answers.
In PART 2 of this post (coming to a website near you in September), I will address another critical element to conveying one’s expertise. As the graphic above states, communicating one’s expertise has less to do with having all the answers and much more to do with being able to ask the right questions. Stay tuned…
Good post – the advice about not needing to have all of the answers brought me back to a very relevant experience in college. In an engineering course that I took, with a reputation for being particular tough, the final exam ended up being a two-question exam that required two full bluebooks and an entire two hours to complete (many in the class didn’t even complete the questions in time!) I ended up getting a perfect score for one of the problems, despite ultimately getting the wrong numerical answer. When I discussed this with the professor, his response was that the purpose of the course was to provide the mental tools to properly approach, set-up, and solve problems in the real world, which I exhibited in my problem response. In his view, knowing how best to tackle complex problems was more important than having the right answer. Definitely an “aha” moment in my career.
Great story Jay. Thanks for sharing it. Developing the skills for critical thinking and problem-solving are so crucial.
Great post, Rich. I loved when I finally became aware of the “Conscious Competence Learning Model” because it pulled it all together for me.
Here’s the basic model:
1. We start a new career, skill, way of being, etc, at the level of “Unconcious Incompetence” – the stage you described at the beginning or your career. You don’t know what you don’t know and it’s all good.
2. We usually move into Conscious Incompetence – we now know what we don’t know. This is one of the places where the Imposter Syndrome can show up.
3. Then comes Unconscious Competence – We know something, but we are likley more competent than we think we are. This is the other dwelling place for the Imposter Syndrome.
4. Hopefully, we arrive at Conscious Competence – we know what we know and own it, hopefully without arrogance and with some residual curiosity that propels us to keep learning and open minded about new possibilities.
Be well, my friend!
Oh my god. Gail … I LOVE this!! It’s ringing a vague bell. I probably heard it years ago but it wasn’t relevant enough at the time for me to retain the information. I won’t be forgetting this any time soon though. Using these 4 phases, I’d probably like the world to believe that I’m at a 4. But just between you and me, I’m probably still at a 3.4 and working with great purpose to achieve a 4. Let’s just keep this our little secret though
Love this. And Gail’s comment. So true! All of it, but especially the part where this feeling becomes more acute as we get older and smarter (or at least more experienced) and all of a sudden realize that there are all these pearls of wisdom pouring out – aloud and in public.
I appreciate the comment Ida. I continue to hear from people about how close to home this post hit. I had no idea this was such a pervasive issue. Hope to see you soon!
Your observation about the Impostor Syndrome struck a chord with me, Rich. As a reflective person, the more you learn about something, the more you realize you don’t know. It’s like passing through an ever-opening series of doors. One idea I adopted from a college professor while studying that helped combat the feeling of inadequacy about one’s level of knowledge, and absorption capacity, was: “I am here to understand that which I do not yet understand”. That helped.
Another passage that epitomizes this feeling is from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s “Ulysses”: “I am a part of all that I have met, Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades Forever and forever as I move”. Given the ever-expanding boundaries of knowledge, I think we can only aspire to learning the most we possibly can in a particular field, compared to the average person.
Thank you so much for the comment and wonderful citation Caroline. That’s one I’ll have to borrow in the future.