By Rebecca Graves
With two Indie novels under my belt and a book of short stories, 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 authors 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, right?
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!
