Dealing With Imposter Syndrome at Your Own Table

You paid for the table. You made the art. You're sitting right there behind your own display. And somehow you still feel like you're waiting for someone to tap you on the shoulder and ask what you're doing there. If that sounds familiar, you're in very good company. Almost every artist we talk to has felt this at some point, including ones whose booths you'd assume have it all figured out.

It usually shows up as specific thoughts, not a vague feeling

Imposter syndrome at a table rarely announces itself as "I feel like a fraud." It's sneakier than that. It sounds like:

• "Everyone else's booth looks so much more professional than mine."
• "My prices are probably too high for what I actually make."
• "That person browsing is definitely judging my art, not just looking."
• "I got into this show by luck, not because my work is actually good enough."

Naming the specific thought helps take some of its power away. A vague cloud of anxiety is hard to argue with. "My booth looks unprofessional" is a specific, checkable claim, and often it's just not true, or it's fixable with something small.

Comparing your booth to everyone else's is a losing game

You're seeing other booths for maybe ten seconds as you walk past, on their best-looking day, with none of the context of how long it took them to get there or what their first year looked like. Meanwhile you know every flaw of your own setup intimately because you've been staring at it all day. That's not a fair comparison and it never will be. Almost everyone whose booth looks effortless has been doing this for years and started somewhere much rougher.

What actually helps in the moment

You can't think your way out of imposter syndrome mid-show, but you can act your way through it:

• Greet the next person who walks up like you mean it. Action tends to interrupt the spiral better than trying to reason with it.
• Look at your own sales record, even a small one. If people have paid you money for your art before, that's evidence, not a fluke that needs re-litigating every show.
• Talk to your booth neighbor. Saying the thought out loud to another artist almost always gets a "oh my god, same" back, which does more to defuse it than any pep talk you give yourself.

A rough patch in sales is data, not a verdict

A slow show doesn't mean your art isn't good. It might mean the foot traffic was low that day, the show wasn't a great fit for your genre, or you were tabled next to something that drew attention away from your row. Sales numbers are affected by dozens of variables that have nothing to do with your talent. Treating one bad day as proof you don't belong there is giving that one variable way more weight than it deserves.

You're allowed to feel this and still show up

The goal isn't to eliminate the feeling before your next con, because for a lot of artists it doesn't fully go away, it just gets quieter with more reps. The goal is to not let it decide whether you apply to the next show or hide your prices or shrink your booth presence. Feel the doubt if it shows up. Set your table up anyway.

Curious what a Shapeshift kit actually looks like in person? Head to the Artist Booths homepage to see the full lineup and find the one that fits your table.