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The speaker walked onto the stage, a model of self-confidence and success. She was just giving a luncheon talk, but she was prepared.

I admired her hard work, but it seemed excessive for a little luncheon talk. I had a suspicion.

Alice was an example of “The Imposter Phenomenon,” the deep-down feeling that she was a fraud. If she worked hard, no one would find out she really didn’t know her stuff and didn’t deserve her success.

If you have ever felt like a fake, join the crowd. Many of us feel like frauds, worried that we will be exposed for what we are — incompetent pretenders.

The “Imposter Phenomenon” is a catchy term, coined in 1978, by Paulene Clance and Suzanne Imes, to describe an internal experience of intellectual phoniness, which they found among 150 high-achieving women.

Despite their degrees, honors, and professional recognition, these women did not experience an internal feeling of success. They thought that they were not intelligent, that they had fooled people.

They felt anxious and insecure, fearing that they would be found out.

These women used several coping strategies to prevent others from discovering that they were not as good as they appeared to be.

The first is Alice’s strategy — hard work. Even if she isn’t smart, she will be so well prepared that no one will find out.

The women also kept quiet, especially about their real ideas and opinions. They played it safe.

Another strategy was to use charm and social skills to impress people. But that didn’t break the impostor feeling. If they were really brilliant and creative, the women felt, they wouldn’t have to rely on others’ approval.

While these researchers thought the Imposter Phenomenon was more common among talented women, later research has found that many men experience the same fears.

On one blog, an anonymous male posted an example:

“A brilliant neuroscientist published, with a famous co-author, a foundational paper about information processing. He was also a brilliant lecturer, giving without notes, spellbinding and seamless narratives full of impressive erudition.

“He had devoted graduate students and was married to a beautiful woman, a television personality.

“There was only one fly in the ointment, he never published again.”

He believed he was a fraud, and, if he tried to publish, he would be found out.

Of course, some people are really imposters, and they take advantage of their power and position.

Bill was a renowned professor at a prestigious university. Emily, a graduate student, had asked him to chair her doctoral committee, and she could not believe her good fortune when he accepted.

When she came to him to discuss her research ideas, Bill made it clear that she would be doing most of the work, and he would be putting his name on the papers they would publish together.

Emily wasn’t upset. After all, she was discussing her ideas with Bill, and they were both developing a research plan.

But when Bill expected to put his name on research she had done before she had even met him, she felt he was stealing her work.

I had a good idea what was going on. Bill was still at the top of his field, but he felt like an impostor. His graduate students knew the latest tools of the trade, the cutting-edge computer programs and the laboratory skills that he had not mastered. He felt inadequate and he probably was.

Feeling like a fraud is not necessarily bad. Many of us, when we apply for a new job, puff our skills, know we don’t have them yet, and learn as quickly as possible.

The problems come when lack of confidence limits what you try. Alice, for example, refused a promotion, fearing that she wouldn’t have what it takes.

As for Bill, Emily asked another faculty member for his advice.

“Stand your ground,” he said.

Emily had another talk with Bill, who denied he had any intention of putting his name on research she had done before she even met him.

But Emily was not an impostor. She had confidence in her abilities, including her ability to manage an unscrupulous professor.