Oh, that sounds arrogant doesn’t it? For a lot of you reading it probably doesn’t sit quite right. And to be honest, it shouldn’t. How can someone so young and so inexperienced be so bold as to call themself the greatest? What have I possibly achieved to warrant making such an outlandish claim when history has bought so many fantastic writers whose skills far surpass my own? Well, it’s at this point that I ask you to bear with me for just a little while longer before you pass judgement and write me off as an arrogant prick.
I believe every single word of this entry’s title, yet at the same time I am willing to concede that I am nowhere near worthy of having such adulation bestowed upon me. So, now that I have utterly confused and frustrated the reader, I better back-track and explain just what the fuck I am talking about.
I’ve been doing a lot of self-reflection over the past week or so. Now that I have (finally) sent my manuscript in its entirety to the Brooklyn based literary agent that I have been dealing with throughout the last few posts, I’ve had a lot of downtime to reassess myself as a person and more importantly, as a writer. While my little adventure down the path of self-discovery was designed as a way to take a few days off before delving into novel number two, I have managed to stumble upon a few gems of wisdom that will alter the course of my writing journey along the way.
I’ve learnt over the course of the past week to fully immerse myself in an ideal that I have been trying to implement into my life for a while now. The idea that people don’t buy what we do, they buy why we do it. This little nugget of motivational wisdom is something that I have been trying to base my professional career upon ever since stumbling across it. But now it’s something that I have learned can be immensely valuable to my continued development as a writer. How? Well, I’ll give you a hint. It’s hidden in the subconscious undertone of this very post’s title. I believe that I am the greatest writer there is. I believe that my skills are developing every single time I put pen to paper. And in doing so, in immersing myself so completely in an unwavering belief in my own abilities, my writing is improving accordingly. And as a result, I just might be able to convince a few others to believe it to.
I’m continually evolving as a writer, and as a man. Yet until I found the self-belief to expose myself to the world, to stand tall and say ‘fuck it. I am good enough to scream my own name from the rooftops’ my writing was only ever going to develop so far. Yet with my new found vigour and unwavering devotion to my craft, there is no limit to what my mind can create. I whole-heartedly believe that I am the mother-fucking greatest. I believe that I am going to be a writer worthy of acclaim sometime in the foreseeable future, and I believe so strongly in my convictions that I can no longer envision myself as a failure. Whether I sell a hundred thousand books or whether I sell zero, I have already achieved everything I ever dreamed of just by having you read this blog on a (somewhat) regular basis. Everything from here on out is just a bonus.
But alas, that’s enough procrastinating for now. It’s time to step down off my hastily erected soap box and start making some progress on the Midas sequel. So for now, I am happy to leave you somewhat baffled as whether you should love me or loathe me for my confidence. Or is it arrogance? Either way, I promise to be in touch very soon.
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