Diary of a Music Supervisor - Entry #005: Imposter Syndrome in the Business—Even OGs With 30 Years of Experience Feel It

Even the most experienced professionals sometimes question whether they belong.

Dear Diary 😊

After a few conversations recently with three dear friends, I realized they were all basically talking about the same thing. On top of that, I’ve heard versions of this same conversation repeatedly over the past month or so. It seems to be on a lot of people’s minds, which made me think this was a good time to talk about it.

None of my friends actually used the words for it. They were simply describing what was going on for them.

But I realized what they were talking about.

Here’s the thing: these aren’t people just starting out. They’ve each spent decades working in the entertainment business. Two currently in significant positions. The other is between gigs and trying to figure out what their next chapter should look like.

Different careers. Different circumstances. Same underlying feeling.

As I listened, I found myself saying versions of the same thing:

“You know how much experience you have, right?”

“You know how many people you’ve helped?”

“You know you’re really good at what you do?”

And somewhere in the middle of those conversations, I caught myself smiling because I realized...

I’ve had to give myself that same pep talk more than once over the years.

And I don’t think we talk about this enough in our industry. So I’m going to talk about it.

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The music and entertainment business is a funny place.

One day you’re sitting in a room with presidents, CEOs, award-winning producers, artists, or filmmakers.

The next day a project ends, a company restructures, someone gets laid off, or the phone doesn’t ring.

It’s a business built on momentum.

When things are moving, they’re moving fast.

When they slow down, they can slow down overnight—and stay that way for a while.

I think that’s one of the reasons imposter syndrome shows up so often. Not because people aren’t talented—but because this industry has a way of making even talented people question themselves.

(Image: https://www.sayerstrainingservices.com/blog/imposter-syndrome-courage-and-curiosity)

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I remember one of the first times I felt it. And believe me, I was usually one of the most confident people in the room. So when this happened, it was a pivotal moment that I’ve never forgotten.

I was in my early twenties and had been appointed Director of National Promotion at Motown Records. Big job. Big title. Great team. Great memories.

Looking back now, it’s kind of crazy.

I hadn’t worked at a major label before, but I had already had experience at a major radio station and then at a major trade magazine, building relationships and learning as I went.

What was new wasn’t the work.

It was the room.

One day, Oscar Fields, the Executive Vice President and General Manager of the label, invited me to attend an executive meeting. Oscar always supported me throughout my career and became a good friend.

I remember walking into that conference room like it was yesterday. Sitting around the table were some of the most respected and groundbreaking executives in the business. Full stop.

Imagine Berry Gordy, Clarence Avant, Oscar Fields, my direct boss Frank Turner—who was SVP of Promotion—and the other department heads. Probably 10 to 15 people in total, all sitting around one large conference room table.

This is what movies are made of!

I was engrossed in the conversation. I honestly thought I had been invited to listen, learn, and better understand the company.

I was perfectly happy doing exactly that.

Just a reminder: I was only about 24 years old at the time.

Then somebody turned to me—in dramatic fashion—and said:

“Jacquie, what do you think?”

EVERYONE turned in their seats to look at me.

I remember thinking:

Wait... what?

Deer in headlights. I can think of a million funny things to say here, but we’ll just move on.

For a split second, I froze.

Then I did what all of us eventually learn to do.

I took a breath.

I collected my thoughts.

And I answered the question to the best of my ability.

What’s funny is that nobody in that room questioned my response or whether I belonged there.

Looking back, my mind had not yet caught up to the fact that I really had the experience and knowledge—and that I might actually have something valuable to contribute to Motown’s business.

For a second, I was thinking, Holy shit. I’m sitting in this room with the big guys.

But that was a pivotal moment for me—and the first time I remember experiencing what we now call imposter syndrome.

Whatever I said apparently went over well. More importantly, it gave me a moment to reflect, move forward, and understand that I was exactly where I was meant to be. I did belong in the room.

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The older I get, the more I realize imposter syndrome isn’t really about experience.

It’s about perspective.

I’ve met people with decades of experience who quietly wonder if they’re still good enough.

I’ve met incredibly talented artists who don’t think they’re talented.

I’ve met executives who worry someone is going to discover they don’t have all the answers.

Here’s a little secret...

None of us has all the answers.

Seriously. We’re all still figuring things out—in different ways and at different levels.

Some of us just have more years of experience figuring things out than others.

I would like to meet the person who knows it all. If you’re that person, I want to talk to you!

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Something else has changed for me over the years.

When I was younger, my title meant a lot to me.

Director.

Vice President.

Executive.

Those titles felt like proof that I belonged. See? That’s my title. That’s where I work. Clearly, I know what I’m doing.

Today, I don’t see it that way.

Titles are important. Sure, they tell people what role you’re serving.

But they aren’t who you are.

You’re not your business card.

You’re not your LinkedIn headline.

You’re not your current job—or your last one. And you are not somehow less valuable because you’re between jobs.

You are more than any title. You have interests, relationships, and a life beyond work.

You have the trust you’ve earned.

You have the problems you’ve solved.

You have the people you’ve helped.

You have experience nobody can take away from you.

That’s where our real value lives—and it’s part of what makes us better at what we actually do.

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These days, if I walk into a room and feel a little nervous, I don’t panic about it. I don’t assume that feeling means I don’t belong. It’s okay. We all get nervous sometimes.

Before I walk in, I usually ground myself by saying, “Snap out of it!”

Just kidding!

Take two: before I leave home, I usually meditate.

Then I walk in and smile. Someone smiles back. It’s a win!

Then I focus on something much more important than myself.

The people in the room.

Because at the end of the day, this business has never really been about being the smartest person in the room.

It’s about showing up.

Listening.

Learning.

Contributing.

Building relationships.

Helping people.

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Those conversations with my friends reminded me of something I think we all need to hear once in a while.

Sometimes we need someone else to remind us of who we are and what we can forget about ourselves at times.

Maybe that’s why I wanted to write this today.

Not because I have imposter syndrome all figured out.

I don’t.

But because if three accomplished friends could unknowingly describe that same feeling to me within a short period of time...

...I have a feeling we’re not the only ones.

So, the next time that feeling shows up, think about this:

How do I separate a period of uncertainty or fear from the value and experience I’ve built over the course of my career?

Because a feeling does not erase everything that came before it.

One last thought...

Don’t compare yourself to everyone else’s highlight reel—especially on LinkedIn or social media. Someone else’s promotion, new job, award, or big announcement doesn’t diminish your experience or your value.

We all have different paths, different timing, and different opportunities. There isn’t just one seat at the table.

Celebrate other people’s wins. Then get back to your own purpose and keep building your future.

Your journey is yours.

Call a friend. Go to the gym. Watch a sunset. Or simply do something good for yourself.

You deserve it.

I look forward to seeing you next Wednesday.

Have a great week!

— Jacquie