I’m my own worst critic in everything in life. I think I’m absolutely mince at just about everything. I think I’m inferior to everyone and that I’m incapable of doing things that ‘normal’ people do. In this post, I’m going to be specifically talking about my book.
Yes, I published a book. At 20 years old, I published a book. And although that is an astounding achievement for anyone in life – I’m my own worst critic and I think it’s no good. Upon reflection, I wish I’d done things differently. I wish I’d been more talented. I wish I’d known more about poetry and found my writing style at the time it was written. I wish I’d understood form more, and played around with line breaks and techniques. You see, I was still a very anxious and sensitive soul, I was too afraid to come out of my comfort zone and try new things. I was holding back. Writers shouldn’t hold back.
I shouldn’t beat myself up too much. My book has been a great success for a self-published writer and I’ve received many messages from people who have took comfort from it. My intention was to help people and I can put my hand on my heart and say my book has achieved that. I shared my mental health journey at a time where I was still very vulnerable and I’m proud of myself for that but I can’t help scrutinizing my book and wishing I’d done things differently. I’m my own worst critic.
I don’t pick my book up often enough. In fact, I very seldom pick it up at all. I don’t promote it nearly enough as I should. I’ve even reduced the price from it’s original £10.99 to £7.99 because I felt it wasn’t worth what I was charging – even though I only receive a very small royalty from every book sold. It’s not about the money for me. I just want to help people; I want people to read my book and resonate with my words and take some comfort from them. The poems are easily accessible, they aren’t hard to decipher, and I haven’t shown my true writing style in my first book because like I said: I was holding back.
I just wish I could give myself some credit for publishing my book. It’s my legacy. If I were to die tomorrow I’ve got a legacy. A tangible legacy that will live on long after I’m gone. Why can’t I give myself a pat on the back and say, ‘You’ve done good Charlene’? I lost a dear friend, Emma, in the blogging community to cancer not so long ago and she doted on my book and always reminded me how much it meant to her. I need to remember these important facts and not let my own criticism deviate me from the positive results of my book. Emma would have wanted me to be proud of my book. I know that for sure.
Anyway, it’s almost Christmas, and I shouldn’t be bringing you all down with me. This is just a post that’s been brewing for a while and as Shrek says – better out than in.
If you’re interested in buying my book (even after I’ve expressed all it’s flaws) you can pick up a copy here.
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