Imposter Syndrome: How it impacted my early years as a musician and what I've learnt from it

As a teenager, I was a social chameleon. I'd outwardly seem confident and extroverted and would talk to anyone I saw at school. But, in reality, all I wanted to do (and mostly did during that period) was sit in the music practice rooms at break times and lunchtimes and play an old scratched-up piano. It was my haven.

When I first started to spend my breaks in the music department, I didn't know how to play the piano. The extent of my musical knowledge came from watching Synthesia tutorials on YouTube or searching up the chords to a song on GuitarTabs and learning the transitions from chord to chord. I'd always hear other people in the practice rooms adjacent to mine having piano lessons or practising for grade exams when I'd never so much as even looked at a graded book, let alone had a piano lesson. Nevertheless, I really enjoyed playing songs and sometimes writing my own too. I'd enjoy writing my own little film-style pieces and recording them onto GarageBand on the only iMac in the music building. It was a prized possession of the faculty, and I convinced them to let me use it.

My best friends at the time were incredibly accomplished at the piano. I remember one of them taking a couple of weeks to learn a rather difficult Chopin piece with her piano tutor and playing it to our friendship group the way you would if you were premiering at Wigmore Hall. We'd always gather in the practice rooms and take turns to play things we'd learnt; however, I'd never actually heard this particular friend play before this moment. Her performance was faultless. Effortless. That day, I became shyer when playing in front of others because I felt I couldn't perform at the same level as some of my peers. It was the start of what became a big problem for me as a musician. I felt like the expectation was that, because I spent every waking second at school in the music department, I should be able to perform Liszt with my eyes closed or compose a John Williams-esque film score destined to catapult me towards recognition. In reality, there was still so much I needed to learn, and I wanted to learn at my own pace by focusing on doing things I enjoyed.

My biggest technical flaw at this time was that my score-reading skills were lacking, which landed me in the 'bottom set' for Music GCSE. I felt deflated. I needed to prove to people that I wasn't just sitting around doing nothing but working towards doing what I enjoyed as a career one day. Music was one of the things that got me through a really tough time during my childhood, and where I was born, studying classical music was as far from the norm as you could get. There were people in my personal life at the time who thought that I was trying to "be something that I wasn't" purely because they believed that classical music was only for those with affluence. I wanted to prove them wrong. I kept thinking, "I'll feel more confident when I go to 6th Form and do my Music A-Levels". So I made it my primary goal to work hard and get into an excellent college to further my career. Something that I started for the love of it had become a heavy weight upon my shoulders.

"I'll feel more confident when I go to 6th Form and do my Music A-Levels."

The time for 6th Form came, and it was then that I had the opportunity to start working harder at my piano performance and composition skills. I had chosen this college mainly to do Music Technology as an A Level, as not many places near where I lived offered it, and my career was leaning towards more of a technology-based route. But it was a result of a scheduling issue that meant that I couldn't do one particular subject that I had chosen, but I had the option to do Music A Level. So I decided to go for it. Little did I know that whilst the people I would meet in my A-Level class would be some of the kindest, loveliest people I'd ever meet, they were also some of the most accomplished musicians in the county.

During my time in 6th Form, I started composing a lot more, so I decided to apply for commissions and awards. To my surprise, I won an award which granted me tuition over the Summer at Royal Academy in London. This was the first ever piece of formal tuition in my individual pursuits that I'd ever received. Following this, I was invited to compose a piece of music for the County Youth Orchestra, the orchestra that most of my friends from college were a part of. I got to be part of their annual residential, and during the residential, they invited me to be part of the orchestra and cover a part on percussion. I immediately said yes. I've enjoyed throwing myself into new experiences and hobbies for as long as I can remember. I'd always been the kind of person who would say 'YES!' to opportunities, not actually knowing 100% how to do the things I'd said yes to. I had never played percussion before, and I now had a WEEK to learn how to play in an orchestra. I fortuitously managed to do it (even though I vividly remember playing the tam-tam 4 bars early), and the orchestra wanted me to be a part of the percussion team for the rest of the concert season. I was shocked. This was the start of something special.

"I'd always been the kind of person who would say 'YES!' to opportunities, not actually knowing 100% how to do the things I'd said yes to."

Once my A-Levels were over, I had the opportunity to go to the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama to study Composition. I'd worked hard to submit a portfolio and was overwhelmed with excitement once I heard I'd been accepted. Finally, I had the chance to develop my composition craft to a level where I could start submitting my portfolio to small film companies or studios where I could work my way up. However, as a result of enjoying my time doing Music A Level and my experience performing with an orchestra, I realised that I didn't just want to do composition. I wanted to do a mix of it all. I felt like my preferences didn't fit into a box. There were the people who just wanted to do composition (and they were incredibly talented!), the people who just wanted to perform (and again, they were phenomenal at it), and there was me: somewhere in the middle. This further added to the insecurity that I hadn't been classically taught in my instruments; I felt as though I'd fluked my way into music college, and one way or another, I was going to be found out and sent home. On top of this, towards the end of the first year of my degree and the start of the second, I realised yet another thing I wanted to do: conduct.

"This further added to the insecurity that I hadn't been classically taught in my instruments; I felt as though I'd fluked my way into music college and one way or another, I was going to be found out and sent home."

My confidence issues came from never really feeling like an expert in either of those fields and feeling as though I needed to be. I felt that because my degree was in composition, that composition was all I was expected to do, and the idea of composing just for others to perform and conduct it made me feel incomplete. On the other hand, I was getting more performance gigs with orchestras (as I had carried on doing percussion after 6th Form). Still, I felt I wasn't good enough compared to the music college's other percussionists (and pianists!). I felt like I needed to fit in somewhere, and I didn't. It caused me a lot of inner turmoil, and I lost myself in categorising myself to 'fit in'. As a result, I lost the reason why I started music in the first place.

Towards the end of my degree, I realised a crucial bit of information that I should've learned at the start of my degree (and arguably the beginning of my musical career): that I didn't need to fit in. I didn't need to be good at what others did because they were good at it. I needed to make music in whatever way felt natural because I was passionate about it. When I think back to where I was always the happiest, it was equal parts of being in a practice room at the piano, being on stage as a percussionist with my old Youth Orchestra or being in front of a DAW composing film scores. Somewhere along the way, imposter syndrome took me as a prisoner and obscured my love for music.

Now that I've been a graduate for a couple of years and have started to make my way in the working world (albeit not in music, but I'm working on that!), I've realised that my desire to create music was what made me the happiest in the first place. Collaborating with others whilst knowing that you're bringing value to the music you're creating together through your skills and abilities is where music really begins to feel special. You feel like you're putting your mark on the world! So whilst I wish I could've felt more confident about myself as a musician during my A Levels and my Degree, 13-year-old Chloe would still be proud of the musician I am today. I still feel a sense of imposter syndrome, especially when I'm playing with orchestras, as I know that there are percussionists out there who have more experience than me. Still, I feel confident that I've worked hard to improve my skills, and the people I work with want me to be myself. The journey towards self-acceptance is a long one, but learning to see value in what you bring to the table is paramount towards truly feeling happy.

So whilst life hasn't happened as the younger me envisioned it would, I keep reminding myself daily that some of the best things in life are some of the hardest - and my musical journey isn't over yet by any means.