I am my favorite writer

A friend shared an Instagram post that read:

“One of the girls in my 9 year old’s class just said ‘My favorite author, other than myself, is Judy Blume,’ and that’s the energy I want to see from all women writers going forward.”

Reading that made me realize how much I’ve been undercutting my own skills and worth with self deprecation disguised as humility or humor. I’ve told people, “I’m not the best writer, but I’m proud of what I’ve written.” When somebody says, “Oh, you’re a writer?” I’ve responded, “Oh, it’s no big deal, I’m not that good of a writer.” 

You know, the kind of talk that makes me think of an Asher Perlman cartoon in which one person tells another: “I engage in too much negative self-talk like a total fucking idiot.”

I’ve decided that I don’t want to put this energy out into the universe anymore. Moving forward, I am my favorite writer. I’ve put a lot of work into my novels, and into becoming the kind of person I needed to be to write them. I have, of course, had a ton of help and support along the way, from so many people, but I’m the one who gets up every day and works to make my dream happen. I have been fighting my way forward with these stories for years, not giving up, even when it’s hard, even when a more reasonable person would have called it quits.

I’ve been reaching out to editors for Firebug this week, as well as moving things forward with Loop, Nevada edits on my end. I’m feeling good about the progress I’ve been making. The weather has been improving here in Pittsburgh and it feels like we’re finally starting to emerge from the winter (I know, it’s Fool’s Spring, but still, the sunny days have been nice). I’m going to set an alarm to check out the lunar eclipse late tonight and send some positive intentions into the universe. It seems as good a time to do that as any.