I’ll admit it.
Whenever I hear about some writer getting an amazing contract, receiving a massive advance, winning an award, or even getting a halfway decent book review from some random stranger on Amazon, I feel jealous.
No, it’s more than that. I seethe with envy.
The jealousy tears me up inside, wondering why that can’t be me. I work hard. I do my best. So, when is it going to be MY turn to pen that New York Times bestseller or get that million-dollar royalty check?
When I finally stop whining and start looking at things objectively again, I come to grips with the truth: I’ll probably never be “that” writer, the one with the fancy book on some exclusive list or winning an esteemed prize.
My work? Is just a lot more modest than that.
And that’s okay.
What I realize (when I stop seething and start thinking like a normal person) is that I’m not the only writer who feels jealous of other writers. In fact, I would wager that there’s someone out there right now who is jealous of ME (or would be, if they had any clue who I am).
I mean, why not? I’ve been published (fairly often), I get to write (at least a little) every day, and I enjoy the luxury of making (some) money from my writing. Not all writers—not even most—can say that.
What I’m finally starting to learn is that it’s stupid to be jealous of other people and their success. It’s impossible to measure YOUR success by looking at someone else’s accomplishments.
Maybe the goal should be to remove other people from the equation and simply strive to make your past self jealous of the life you’re living now.
And my past self? Is seething.