Ah, yes, the old middle-of-the-night I’ll-never-be-good-enough fantods. I know them well. Here’s a thought:
1.) Humankind has been telling the story of The Quest and The Young Person Comes of Age since before we had fire, even.
2.) There’s no such thing as the definitive telling of a story.
3.) A lot of mediocre writers have hit the jackpot; a lot of extraordinarily talented stylists are the mania of a tiny (but passionate) audience. Financial success, for a writer, is a crapshoot. What lasts, especially with the writer, is having produced something you yourself are pleased with.
4.) That which is today’s fad may be completely forgotten tomorrow. Like Rafael Sabatini, a perfectly serviceable (not brilliant, serviceable) writer of popular adventure fiction in the early 20th century. Anybody read him now? I mean, other than people who hang out at the library’s used-book sale?
5.) Not being The Best Ever doesn’t mean you’re not good. And book sales are no indicator of whether you’re good; look at the early works of Mary Higgins Clark or Barbara Taylor Bradford.
OK, well, that’s a couple of thoughts. But here’s the deal. You don’t have to touch every heart in the world, and you probably won’t get rich. You will, however, have several experiences that indicate to you, deeply and irrevocably, just what your words have meant to someone whose existence you don’t even begin to suspect. A Lexus is rather a commonplace goal, but not everybody will know what it’s like to hear from a stranger who’s passionately captivated by something they’ve written.
Let us have no more of standards of doubtful relevance–writing because you might become as wealthy as J.K. Rowling is like joining the space program 'cause you might meet Mr. Spock. The real reason to join the space program is so’s you can see the stars close up, isn’t it?
Back to the keyboard, madame, and thrill us some more!
