Over the summer, I have been attempting to find my way (author-wise) and in the midst of doing so I realized something. I can be better. Falling back on the notion of “why does nobody like my book?” first has me over-analyzing my abilities. And anyone who knows me is fully aware of my pension toward self-deprecation. Well, as a method to improve, I’ve come to the hard conclusion to truly take a look at myself.
For all the good things I’m capable of accomplishing, I get hung up on the little things no one else could possibly see and if affects my everything as a writer. I see people who have lots of fans, lots of books, opportunities opening up for them and, truthfully, I get jealous. Then I have to actually look at why. Long story short, I’ve been lazy. Those people we see and love following the careers of aren’t busy moping and whining and begging. They’re hustling and trying and having fun with the experience. Me, I’ve been rushing to popularity for no real good reason. Because I thought a good story equaled recognition.
After today, I fully plan on enjoying this part of my life. No expectations and no excuses. No more waiting for something good to come to me. I have to work for the goals I want, we all do. And the more and more I approach it with half-hearted effort and expecting it to come to me, well, that’s about the same thought as throwing a ball into the forest and complaining when it doesn’t roll back.
There’s a reason they call it chasing your dreams. Now, if you’re like me, get off your ass and start running.