Okay, so I’ve been told that I’m a little competitive. Okay, so, I’ve been told this more than once, a few times even. My Lamaze teacher thought I was competitive…I mean really? How does someone compete in Lamaze class? (I will say, I had that breathing down!)
So it would be logical to assume that I would be competitive in my writing, but I’m not. Writing to me is so individual and personal, and my reasons for writing are not competitive in nature. Yeah, it would be great, positively wonderful, to find an agent, get published and become a successful, well liked, and well reviewed writer. I mean, who writes and doesn’t want that? But the thing is, every writer has a different story to tell and a way of telling it. Success is so subjective. Fifty Shades of Grey is wildly, hugely, successful, but I can’t say I’d want my name on the cover (on the check, yes, cover, no).
I don’t understand writers who can’t or won’t admire another writer’s story. Even when something is as terrible as Fifty Shades Of Grey, I have to admire the author for sitting down and stringing together 80,000 words or so to tell her story. Just the act of writing should be admired and respected.
Yeah, there’s a lot of bad writing out there, and I can only hope that I don’t add to the pile. I do my best to get eyes on the work and learn and listen and take criticism and hopefully accept praise with grace. Am I competitive? Usually. But when I sit down to write, it’s just me telling a story, nothing competitive about that.