This post could start out a lot of ways: “As a writer” would be one. “As a mother” would be another. Or “As a woman” could be yet another option for an appropriate beginning. Actually, there are probably a thousand ways you could start this post, because it’s something we all think about, and we all struggle with forever and ever no matter what:
I think writers as a whole are a notoriously insecure group of people. Perhaps it comes with the territory. Which, if that means anything, it’s that we’re not alone in the way we feel.
A couple of perfect examples of how NOT alone we are would be this post from Rachelle Gardner (a literary agent) on the 7 Bad Habits of Successful Writers, and Shannon Messenger’s video blog on Friday the Thirteeners about giving up.
But when you’re in the throes of an oh my gracious I suck and will always suck and nobody has ever sucked as much as I suck in the world of suckdom moment…well, sometimes company isn’t enough.
So this post — this whole thought process, I suppose — has been a long time coming. Over the last few weeks (or, you know, forever, but just more so in the last few weeks) I’ve been struggling with my own insecurities. That ever-constant plaguing thought: I’m not good enough.
And well, fact is, maybe I’m not. Before you go lashing me for that statement, let me finish.
What I’m talking about is this dream — this goal of publication. This continuous effort to reach out and blog and network and build a platform and write book after book…