I got the most amazing feedback yesterday from my editor, Hanna, for What Remains of Her.
She said, “You have a real gift.”
She said, “Keep writing.”
She said, “It’s been quite a while since I enjoyed my job as much as I did editing this book.”
Those are the most incredible things someone who doesn’t know me personally has said about my writing.
The validation that comes with an editor seeing my work and thinking it’s good enough for the industry is, honestly, a little overwhelming.
Then, of course, after ten minutes of texting everyone I know and crying in my kitchen, the imposter syndrome sets in.
What if this book is a fluke? What if it’s my ceiling, the best thing I’ll ever write? What if this is a level I’ll never achieve again?
Today, after sleeping on the incredibly kind praise and the imposter syndrome, something occurred to me.
Not every book I write is going to be well-received by the masses. There may be some that flop. Hard. There could be one or two that “make it big,” and I become a household name. There’s a middle ground, too, where a select group of people love my books and continue to read what I write.
What I realized is that, as much as I hope people like my books, it doesn’t matter whether some are better than others. It doesn’t really matter if some flop or are talked about on BookTok. It’s entirely possible for someone to love one book but hate the rest. It’s even more possible that someone could like most of my work but have one or two that they don’t care for.
I’m going to take Hanna’s advice.
I’m going to keep writing.
Not because everyone will love it. But because it makes me happy.
Her praise was a very nice bonus, and it took a few minutes for my ego to return to normal size. But that isn’t the goal. The goal is to do something I love and hopefully have it resonate with the people it’s meant for.
Stay warm. Stay strong. Keep doing what you love. Especially in these times, when so much out there is meant to steal your joy.
