Lately I’ve been thinking of the bar I’ve set for myself as an author. Now this might just be a response to a rather stressful month but I’m thinking maybe my bar is too high. I’ve said to a few people that I don’t want to be forgiven for being a debut (if I ever even debut) but I want my first book to smack readers right in the face with its awesome. If I don’t end up in the same sentence as Kirsty Eagar, Melina Marchetta then I’ve failed. God, how arrogant am I?
I’ve been thinking about leaving myself room to grow and about being okay with that. Because the truth is where I am now is really only the beginning. I’m at the start. And it makes sense that my writing would grow and change and eventually end up being what I so desperately want it to be. The book I’m writing now is actually the very first book I’ve written. And maybe it’s the joy of a new story starting to birth in me (the thought that I have more) that’s making me okay with it not being astounding with its brilliance.
I read somewhere that in Graffiti Moon Cath Crowley was only just starting to tap into how she wants to write. It took Melina Marchetta ten years to write again after Looking For Alibrandi. Many brilliant authors navigate years of rejection before finally breaking through.
I’m not saying any of this to say that I’m going to slack off. Not try as hard and be happy with mediocre. Because I’m not. But I’m going to be okay if I don’t win awards, get five stars or if this book doesn’t even end up in print. I’m going to be okay because I’m going to grow and get better.
and p.s my next story will totally smack you in the face.
Originally posted December 24 2012