About four years ago I began entertaining the idea of writing a novel.
Somewhere along the way, I became caught up with another wannabe writer. It soon became apparent this other writer’s style is miles different to mine. This other writer told me, regarding my writing, that I needed to do this and do that and do something else (understood - if it was ever to be accepted by a publisher).
I believed it.
However, nothing changed. No matter how many examples were thrown at me, I still wrote my way. Consequently, I began to also believe I didn’t have what it took to be a writer. I was ready to give up.
Finally, just yesterday, the penny began slowly dropping. (Now do you understand my username?)
This other writer writes commercial fiction.
On the other hand, what I think I may be good at is writing literary fiction.
There’s a world of difference.
Of course, the proof of the pudding is still to be had only in the eating but I feel a whole lot better about my writing prospects than I did two days ago.
So, all you wannabes out there, if what the critics tell you makes you feel bad, maybe you should just follow your heart. Not definitely, but maybe.



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