I wonder if my writing is any good. I mean, my friends all say, “Whoa, that’s some darn good writing. You’re really going to become an author one day, I’m sure of it.”
However, when I read my own writing, why do I feel so much pain? Is it bad, in my opinion? Is it the things I write about? I’m not sure myself. Even though I put myself down and get put down by other people, I still feel sucked back into my writing. Like a black hole. In the end, all I could do is sit down with my notebook and pen and start scribbling down my ideas and feelings into one piece. But is it any good?
I’m not sure if I have any fans of my writing. Though my friends read it and say it’s good. I doubt they would read it in their own time. And this sadness I feel when I read my work. It’s painful, like someone decided to continuously stab me in the chest. Most of my work isn’t even sad. I write how I feel and put it through many things, that’s what builds my stories. I’ve had teachers tell me that I have talent for writing. However, they’re just teachers. They’re supposed to support you. Is it any good?
The same question rolls through my head, “Is it any good?” I’ve tried to quit writing multiple times. I knew that being an author would be hard. You might not get your spotlight, or ever get a spotlight. There’s a huge amount of competition between authors that write fiction for teens and being a teen myself already puts me at a disadvantage, since I’m a minor and I don’t have experience. People say when you polish a rock enough, it can become a diamond. What if I’m just a rock? What if I don’t have a diamond? Is my writing any good?
My dream is to become a professional writer. One that can make the readers feel the way I feel and the way I see the world through multiple fictional characters. One that can make them think the way I think. One that can move them to being on the verge of tears to smiling like idiot. But my goal is different. My goal is to publish my book before I turn sixteen years old. I have plenty of time. Or so I think. I could be just a rock. I could be a diamond.
In my mind, I can be anything, anywhere, with anyone.
Is it any good?