Confidence

Networking is one thing ... but confidence in delivering the goods ... is quite another. Just because you've been to every writing conference in the universe, met and mingled with high-powered literary-types who've invited you to send them your work, and you've moved yourself into a competitive playing field by hiring a publicist, speech coach, and wardrobe consultant ... doesn't mean squat.

How much confidence do you really have in yourself?

I've been thinking a lot about the level of faith in my work, how much do I believe in myself? After all the bumps in the road of life, the successes and the failures ... what has it done to my confidence level? What makes me think I'm going to make it as a successful author? Do I believe I write quality books? Am I a good storyteller?

Oh sure, mom, dad and hubby and can tell you you're the greatest thing since Eudora Welty, but only the public and the test of time can really tell the tale. Just because I've studied for years, read everything I can get my hands on, and have written tons of material, does that make me a good writer?

So what is it that makes me think I'm going to beat the odds? What makes me think ... after all I've heard from agents and editors over the years about how hard it is to write breakout fiction and only the teeniest percent of the cream of the crop authors get noticed ... what makes me think I just might qualify? After all the discouraging articles online, all the books by "experts" who tell us we got about as much a chance as a cliché in a manuscript to make the best seller list ... why do I bother to get up every morning and start all over again?

Is there any guarantee the stars, moons, and planets will all be lined up when I submit my novel to the perfect agent? Do I think I'm the only writer with passion, commitment, a unique voice, raw talent? Am I like those contestants on American Idol that truly think they can sing, announce on nationwide TV they have "a trained voice," and then stand in front of Paula, Randy, and Simon and make absolute fools of themselves?

Where the hell do I get off thinking I'm as good as all the other authors out there that are not only published several times over, but are fighting to stay that way. Who the hell do I think I am?

Here's my answer.

You know when you look in the mirror and see your reflection, you know without a doubt that's you ... you can't say, "Hey that's not me." You know it's you. You've lived with the same face for years. (For better or for worse.) You know your body, you even know every time something isn't quite right with the way you feel. You know when you're catching a cold, or when you're finally getting over one. It's NOT a confidence level you have in believing your body belongs to you. It's a fact, it's truth ... and there's a peace in knowing your face, your arms, legs, and memory belongs to you and can't be taken from you. That's how I feel about my writing. Just like that.

When I get up in the morning, I know where I live, I know each room in my house, I know if my body feels good or not. And I know ... I write great stories. I write NOT because of a fierce, self-serving impulse in my own heart. But I consider the potential of my writing to communicate my stories, letting others in on the lives of other people I make up.

As a writer, I want to affect the reader’s mind –to educate them into my world and enlighten– but what I wish for even more is to jolt the reader’s heart. I want my words to open a portal through which the reader may leave the world they live in and be transported into the time and space I have laid before them.

Years from now, after I'm gone, someone will read what I've written and know I was here. They may not know or care who I was, but they'll hear my words in their head speaking for me.

It's the air I breathe.

Arrogant? No. Not for a moment. Confident? I guess you could say that.

Blessings to you and yours.