The single-engine Cessna 172 was about 1,500 feet above the Pacific Ocean when that engine stopped.

I still don’t know why it stopped. All I know is that I was the pilot and the sole occupant of the plane. I had just taken off from a small airport in Western Washington. The pre-check had been routine. The takeoff had been uneventful. The sky was blue, the wind was calm. It was a beautiful day for flying.

And then the engine stopped.

What would ...

Twenty-seven minutes and fifty-five seconds.

That’s the time I had to hit—exactly—every week for fifteen years.

27:55. Not a second more. Not a second less. 27:55.

Welcome to the world of television production, where the clock is your master. You’re always aware of it. You go on the air at 11:30pm, every Saturday, whether you’re ready or not. Whether you feel like it or not. And, exactly twenty-seven minutes and fifty-five seconds later, you fade to black. Every week.

You’ve felt the pressure of ...

You’re a fraud. That’s the bad news.

You’re not very good at your job. Sure, you’ve been lucky so far. You’ve gotten away with it. You’ve managed to fool everyone around you.

But sooner or later they’re going to find out. You know this, right? The charade can’t last forever.

Sooner or later, they’re going to figure out that you’re a fraud.

That’s the bad news.

The good news is that, in all likelihood, none of this is true.

Welcome to Imposter ...