Impostor syndrome can manifest in a variety of ways, including procrastination or an inability to accept compliments. But one trait several researchers on this topic pinpoint is, paradoxically, a tendency to overwork. Because people with impostor syndrome feel that they are not intrinsically smart, and can succeed only by working harder than anyone else, they tend to obsess over even minute details of unimportant projects. These might be minor, internal memos that keep you up all night, or emails that get saved to the “drafts” folder and edited to Pulitzer-worthy perfection later. The nonstop work offers a way to explain, without taking credit, why the ultimate result was a good one: “Oh, I’m not really qualified, I just pulled an all-nighter.” Thus justified, the next time their skills are put to the test, impostors are likely to overwork again, thinking, “Well, it worked the last time.” Young quotes Joyce Roche, the former president of Girls Inc. and an African American woman who grew up working-class, as saying “the threat of failure scares you into these long hours.” Roche regularly worked fourteen-hour days.291

I, too, am no stranger to impostor syndrome. For my first appearance on cable TV news, I entered the green room thirty minutes before my time slot. Being on TV for the first time feels like taking a Zumba class with all your ex-boyfriends watching. You have to look good, but also like you know what you’re doing, but also like you’re having fun, but also don’t screw up or it will remind everyone why they broke up with you. That morning, I nervously reviewed the flash cards I, an adult woman, had made so that I could remember what to say during my two-minute segment. Another woman waiting for her appearance—a journalist who had been on TV many times before—tried to talk to me, and I curtly ignored her. Didn’t she see that I needed every precious second to prepare? Sure, she could relax and have fun—she is smart, but I am dumb, but we would both be on TV soon, so to my flash cards I turn.