I recently read David Walsh's excellent post, "<a href="http://davidwalsh.name/impostor-syndrome">I'm an Impostor</a>", and it certainly hit home. I even DM'd him on Twitter to thank him for making me feel less alone: 

<em>"Thank you for writing that post. I can relate so much to what you’re going through. I feel it all the time as well. Glad I’m not alone."</em>

<a href="http://davidwalsh.name/impostor-syndrome">Like</a> <a href="http://www.hanselman.com/blog/ImAPhonyAreYou.aspx">many</a> <a href="https://medium.com/the-year-of-the-looking-glass/the-imposter-syndrome-9e23e2326d88">others</a>, I've had to cope with Impostor Syndrome and while it's not a great feeling, I've been fortunate enough to have a great support system in the community that has regularly helped me recognize my contributions. But that doesn't mean that I don't suffer self-doubt on occasion, especially in the presence of people I know are amazing technologists. This is especially prevalent because my role at Microsoft puts me in constant exposure to folks who <strong>build a browser</strong> and whose technical understanding is off the charts.

<h2>As Your Name Grows, So Does the Pressure</h2>

After thinking about this for a couple of days, I've come to realize that these feelings seem to be exacerbated as your influence grows in the community. Some of it is clearly self-imposed self-doubt such as what David eluded to but I also believe that as we gain recognition, we begin to set expectations (sometimes unnecessarily) that we need to know <strong>EVERYTHING</strong> that's going on within our specific development niches. It seems obvious that it would be impossible to keep up with every framework, tool, pattern or technique coming out. There's only so much time in the day and that has to be balanced with normal work duties and most importantly, family time. 

But when you're perceived as an influential part of the community (as I've been told I am), there's a clear pressure to be "<em>in the know</em>" and talk intelligently about the new coolness that's being used. I even gave a talk at Fluent's Ignite about this:

<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/tpWZt2GKzYU" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>

It's especially difficult to rationalize not knowing these things when you see all the cool kids using them and talking them up. When people look to me to give them guidance and I can't offer them solid feedback, it's an incredibly deflating experience. I mean, aren't I that guy that's <em>supposed to know</em>?

And I believe folks in developer evangelism roles are especially susceptible to this because we don't have the same opportunities to build real-world, production code as the typical software developer. Our roles 



 