Give Yourself a Break
Ever seen a toddler race in the Olympics? Yeah, me neither. It’s a cute thought, right? But one we’d never expect in reality. How could a little person, just learning to walk, compete with grown adults, athletes, who have trained specifically for their event for years?
And yet, we writers do it all the time. When we sit down to write our first draft—especially if it’s our first book—we think we should be able to keep up with the best. The books already out there, the bestsellers and prize winners. The published, finished products.
But we’re not being fair to ourselves. When you’ve never written a book before—hell, even if you’ve written a dozen, you’ve never written this new one before—you’re starting out. Getting your race legs, if you will. You’re the equivalent of a little person learning a new skill. So why do we think we can go for gold the first time out? Why do we think our first draft has to be publishable quality from the start?
Like a toddler, who grows into a child, then teen, then adult, who practices and trains, and works with coaches and fellow athletes, we, too, can get there. But not right away. Give yourself time. Give yourself training. Give yourself a break.