“Girl, You Ain’t All That!”

So I  mentioned to you last week, that my mother told me that I’m not all that. I have a loving mother and the comment sounds harsh, so let me give you some background information.

I was sitting at the kitchen table complaining about my lot in life. You know the whole ungrateful spiel us writers do sometimes:

“Why can’t my book get reviewed by (insert magazine here)?”

“Why can’t my book be published in hardcover?”

“Why can’t I go on a book tour, (sponsored by someone other than me?)”

My lovely, wonderful mother proceeds to provide me with a light bulb moment. “Because Katrina, you ain’t all that.”

“Do you think Oprah was always Oprah? She worked hard to get where she is. Do you think (insert well-known author name here) was always that way? They worked hard to get every reader they’ve got. Your book isn’t getting reviewed by People because you’re not ready for that yet. I put the emphasis on the yet,” she says as she touches my hand. “You did hair for over ten years. Would you expect a girl who has been doing hair for a year to get the same recognition as a veteran? No. Would you expect a hairstylist who had just finished her second client to announce that she is ready to work on celebrities? I don’t think so. Stop looking at everyone’s else’s cards and play the cards you are dealt. A debut author gets a huge advance and book is printed in hardback and gets reviewed in every magazine known to man? Good for them, but it ain’t happening to you. You’re supposed to be learning your craft right now, and you can’t do that by wishing your road was any different. You are a great writer, but don’t act like you know everything. You are still learning.”

Wow, right? Told you I have a great Mama!

I know I have a tendency to rush things. With my writing, I set up these crazy, unattainable goals for myself and get let down when I can’t reach them. Why? All so I can be like this person, or write like this person. What happened to writing like me?

Case in point. I wrote a novel that didn’t sell. While I was writing it, I deemed it my breakout novel. It was supposed to be my BIG book, you know the one all of us authors think will take us to the next level? I put so much effort into this book, and I have to admit was more than surprised when the rejection letters piled in. I focused so much of my efforts on what was supposed to happen that I didn’t look at what was happening—that in all my effort to be this serious writer—that the book didn’t ring true. It wasn’t me, or my voice. It took a full year for me to step away from that novel, and to take the criticisms that were scribbled on the bottom of those rejection letters:

“Great writing, nice flow—wrong story.”

“It’s potential here, but not in this book.”

So I took a deep breath and promised that I would never try to write like anyone else again. That if I was to continue to write, I would not flirt anyone else’s style. That I must write stories that are inherently mine, something that says, “This sounds like Katrina.”

It can be a hard pill to swallow as a writer to see your limitations. To know that there are stories in your head that you are not talented enough to write yet. Was I ready five years ago to write the story I’m writing now? No way. But I am now. So I wrap myself in my mother’s words that I’m not all that.

Yet.