With two Indie novels under my belt – and a newly released short story book – you’d think I’d have a little more confidence in my ability as a writer.
You couldn’t be more wrong.
I’ve battled serious issues with doubt, perfection and comparing my work to other authors. (Those who shall remain nameless who make my writing look like a five year old scribbled it on a piece of paper.) Not exactly a healthy pattern of thinking for a writer.
I know it’s self-destructive to play the comparison game, but I can’t always help myself. When I see language used in its finest and most brilliant form, I am in awe – and frankly, a bit envious.
But I’ve had an epiphany that has drastically changed my opinion. Readers enjoy my books. They actually enjoy them! Who knew? I need to remember that. I need it to sink into the depths of my soul. And since they do, there must be a place for me in this crazy world of writing after all!
With this new mindset, I’ve decided to embrace the writer I am. I write what I write, and the feedback I continue to receive confirms my efforts. It’s okay that I’m not an amazing world builder like Leigh Bardugo, or a classic writer like Jane Austen. I am me. And my writing is a reflection of my individuality, making my stories different and special in a way no other writer can.
It’s what all of us writers bring to the table – telling stories with our own unique point of view and perspective.
This conclusion hasn’t come easy. A giant brick needed to be thrown at my head to knock some sense into me. I’m sure I’ll still have moments of insecurity. But for now, a new foundation has been laid.
I am a writer. And there’s nothing else I’d rather be.
Well...besides my obsession with graphic design!