Imposter Syndrome: The Unpaid Intern Living in Your Head

Voice actors are no strangers to self-doubt. Whether you're a fresh demo away from your first gig or you've been in the booth for thirty years, there's a persistent little gremlin that likes to whisper in your ear: "You don't belong here."

It doesn’t matter how many clients you’ve booked, how many coaching hours you’ve logged, or how much gear you’ve collected, that little jerk still shows up. Sometimes it mumbles in the back of your brain. Other times it's front and center, shouting like it owns the place.

Psychologically, it’s nothing new. Imposter syndrome is well-documented. It thrives in high-achievers and creative professionals. It feeds off comparison, perfectionism, and isolation. Which, if you’re a freelancer in a padded room talking to yourself for money, checks a few too many boxes.

But philosophically? That’s where it gets interesting.

Imposter syndrome tends to show up right when you're pushing yourself to do work that actually matters. It’s a side effect of caring deeply and aiming higher than what feels safe. Imposter syndrome is the tax you pay for walking into uncertainty with your name on the invoice.

The problem isn’t that the voice shows up. The problem's when you start to believe it.

When you let it make decisions. When it keeps you from auditioning, or from raising your rates, or from calling yourself a professional even after years of working like one. That’s when it stops being background noise and starts becoming a career hazard.

So how do you deal with it?

Not with blind confidence or affirmations on a sticky note. You meet it with receipts.

You show up. You do the work. You track the wins, even the small ones. You get coached. You listen to yourself improving. You bury that little bastard with evidence that says, "Actually, I do belong here."

You also stop pretending you’re the only one feeling this. That guy you admire? The one with the national campaigns and shiny gear? He’s fighting his own version of it. So's the coach who’s coaching you. So's the actor you think has it all figured out.

Imposter syndrome doesn’t go away, but it gets quieter when you stop feeding it. So give it a seat in the corner if you have to, but don’t hand it the mic. You’ve earned that spot. Say the line like you mean it.

Then keep hitting record, or send or publish. Again. And again. Until that annoying voice inside your head realizes it’s been replaced by the one coming out of your mouth.