The Impostor Syndrome by Maria Ignatieva

“The prestigious prize is awarded
to a person who wrote his first novel.”
They always make it look like the hero is some rare specimen, distant, raised secretly in some isolated place that, whatever it be, is unlike anything a Common Person faces.
“A person.” Well I know who they’re talking about. His name is Billy Harding, and in July he’s turning 23. I know his face, his voice, his favourite colour. I know how far he is from that paragon of confidence and success that the news pictures him as.
“Young writer accepted the Best Book award.”
Poor Billy, how clearly he realizes that his book is anything but the best, how much would he like to change it, to sneak in while nobody’s watching and fix it, rewrite, complete.
“An author said he was ‘honoured’ to receive the award.”
Of course he was honoured. He’s humble and weak, he’s grown up thinking that any praise he got was undeserved, a result of some mistake or lie. To say he was honoured is to say nothing.
A phone call interrupts me.
“Billy, are you there? You have an interview arranged for midday. Be sure to grab your pen, you’re gonna have a lot of copies to sign.”

***
Well, that escalated quickly.
“The receiver of the prestigious prize is accused in fraud.”
Who would have thought.
In July you’re turning 23. Twenty three missed calls on your phone. Did you really think that you could say anything new? Nowadays, nobody can, the scientists claim. Too much has been said already, so now all we do is mimic, rearrange, repeat.
Copy.
“The Best Book winner became a national disappointment.”
What does that mean? That he’s a bad person? No, just a bad copyist. A loser imitator, an amateur fraud. No surprise, if you think about it. Maybe you would have been better at it if you meant it.
Twenty three missed calls. I know what they’ll say. “Nothing is lost yet, Billy, they can’t prove it, we can stand and fight.”
Of course. Of course we can. And we will, because that’s what the news heroes do. Or real heroes. We’ll lie again, and one lie will pile on another, and the truth will be vlurred again.
Just like we always did.