When Self-Doubt Starts Feeling Like a Verdict

11 hours ago

6 min read

Why I have to separate slow sales, social-media numbers, difficult creative days, and the actual quality of my photography before I believe the worst stories I tell myself.

A while back, Jeffrey and I recorded an episode of our podcast, Shutter Nonsense, about imposter syndrome in photography, and before we hit record I had to take time to reflect on the topic from my own perspective. I realized how many different parts of my photography life, and life in general, can trigger the same basic question: who am I to be doing this?

For me, that question isn't about whether I know how to use a camera; after 10+ years I (thankfully) feel pretty competent there! It shows up when I put myself in a position where other people are expected to trust my knowledge, buy my work, join a workshop, watch a tutorial, or spend an hour listening to me talk — or sometimes ramble — about photography. I can know that I know and still feel the doubt show up anyway.

The human brain. Pffft!

Silhouetted leafless trees in a grassy field at orange sunset, with glowing clouds and a warm, tranquil mood. — *Till Tomorrow*

Relaunching my YouTube channel was the first big test.

When I decided to take YouTube more seriously in 2020 and start making Lightroom tutorials, I found myself sitting on the sofa in my living room before recording the first one and feeling completely overwhelmed by the anxiety of putting myself in front of the camera. Part of that was simply being uncomfortable on video, but a big part was wondering whether I had earned the right to teach.

The funny thing is that I did know the material: I'd already helped people one-on-one and received extremely positive feedback, and I believed I could explain things in a way that might be useful, as well as a bit different from other videos that were already out there. After all, I had nearly two decades of coaching and development experience in my then-career, was a trained facilitator, and had taught groups of up to 200 people... I had the needed skills to teach photography effectively through YouTube and otherwise.

Nobody had asked me to launch the channel. I had to decide whether the fact that I was nervous meant I shouldn't do it or simply meant I was doing something that made me feel under the microscope and, potentially, seen as a fraud.

I still have versions of that reaction from time to time. For instance, I can look at photographers with beautifully produced videos from out in the field and immediately compare my own work to theirs. I have to take a breath and remind myself that I'm not trying to become the next Thomas Heaton or Ben Horne. The goal of my field videos has always been different, with a focus on unscripted "raw" behind the scenes access and instruction.

Comparing production value without comparing intent is a good way to talk myself out of something I actually want to make.

Business makes the doubt feel more objective.

The business side is even harder because the feedback comes with objective numbers in terms of revenue and profit. A box set release sells slowly (such as Look for the Light: Volume 3... hint, hint!), a workshop I'm excited about struggles to garner interest, a product page gets traffic but not purchases... suddenly the damning internal voice of Self Doubt has receipts for its claims around my unworthiness.

That's where I have to be especially careful not to let one result become a the entire story.

This year, as an example, has been much worse for my print sales than last year, which was worse than the year before. That doesn't mean my photographs that were selling before have magically gotten worse, nor does it mean my newer work isn't as good. It means I need to look at the whole system: marketing, search visibility (and how AI summaries have drastically changed the game), the economy, workshop travel costs, and whether I'm even reaching the right people to begin with.

Of course, I can still be disappointed; there's nothing wrong with that natural emotional reaction. I also still have agency to take ownership and change things up. I just don't have to start with the assumption that the only possible answer is that nobody thinks I'm, or my work, is good enough.

Misty cove in dense green woods, with a fallen bare tree across the water and flowering grasses in the foreground. — *Last Respects*

My headspace changes my perception.

An example I shared in the Shutter Nonsense podcast episode was my 2024 summer Colorado trip. I came home tired, emotionally spent after my mom's passing just a few months prior, and had homeowner problems waiting for me when I got home.

When I opened Lightroom to start reviewing the images I made, I immediately started thinking everything I had photographed was utter crap. Thankfully, I recognized what was happening — my mood and external factors were warping my perceptions — before I turned that first impression into a permanent dismissal of the work.

Instead, I closed Lightroom and let the files wait until I was in a better headspace.

That experience has stuck with me because it's such a clear reminder that the quality of the photograph isn't the only variable when reviewing images (it's also a great way to justify my habit of revisiting older files I passed on initially).

I bring all of myself to the act of photography. If I'm stressed, exhausted, frustrated, or already feeling behind, I'm not necessarily seeing the same images I'd see on a better day.

I'm still critical of my work, but I just want the criticism to be about the work.

I need evidence when my memory gets selective.

One thing that helps me when imposter syndrome rears its ugly head is deliberately remembering the evidence I tend to forget when doubt takes hold. I've had nothing but positive feedback from past clients; I've watched workshop participants have those light-bulb moments where something I've shown or explained to them finally clicks; I've had photographs included in the Natural Landscape Photography Awards books; and I've received positive feedback from the hosts and participants of presentations I've given.

I was raised to be humble (exceedingly so, one might say) but, sometimes, you gotta remind yourself of all you've accomplished and be a little egotistical about it all to get yourself out of the self-doubt ditch. As I used to tell mentees in my corporate career, psych yourself up, not out!

None of that means every new photo I make is great or every workshop offering is perfect. It does mean that the sentence, “I have no business teaching or sharing this” has to explain a lot of contradictory evidence before I accept it.

I've also become more conscious of the language I use around my own work. I don't love the habit photographers have of calling old images junk or talking as though every success was an accident. You can be humble without constantly espousing the idea that you're not very good. There is a difference between humility and being overly self-deprecating or dismissive of your own accomplishments.

Twin waterfalls cascade down a green rock cliff into a turquoise forest pool, with sunlit trees and exposed roots in the foreground. — *Nature's Song*

I'm not trying to eliminate all doubt.

My goal isn't to reach some magical, utopian world where I never question myself again. If I keep trying new things, there will always be situations where I'm inexperienced, exposed, or uncertain... or fail. Heck, if you're not failing sometimes, you're probably not pushing yourself enough to grow!

What I want is a better response: notice how I'm feeling in the moment, figure out what triggered it, ask myself whether the story I'm telling myself actually fits the facts, and then decide what I can do next.

Sometimes that means improving something. Sometimes it means closing Instagram. Sometimes it means waiting a few days before culling a trip. Sometimes it means launching the thing anyway.

We humans are great at writing scary stories when we're feeling uncertain, doubtful, or scared. It's important to remember that so you can recognize a false narrative and intentionally rewrite the story with more positive, can-do framing.

Continue with the free Shutter Nonsense guide for overcoming imposter syndrome.

Over at the Shutter Nonsense learning page we've put together a free guide that provides you with a practical framework for identifying your own self-doubt triggers, separating useful humility from self-defeating conclusions, and choosing better critique environments. The guide closes with a handy Put It Into Practice checklist to help you complete a one-page "doubt audit" to help you move past your own struggles with imposter syndrome.

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