That hard place for me - and from what I've heard from some other authors can also be for them - is when suddenly you read a comment or bad review about one of your books, and you start spiraling into doubting yourself. Is this just a mirage - me thinking I can actually write a novel? Do I actually have any talent at all?
It's suggested we need to develop a thick skin - I can't. It's not in me to either ignore or not be affected by anything negative directed precisely at me. I'm as thin-skinned as they come.
Well, in a rather unique chain of events, I picked up my second novel The Famous One to address a comment from someone I know who's reading it now. This started on page 88. I remembered the scene quite well, but I read that page again and the following pages and a few more, and I just kept reading over the next two days until I finished that book again. Some authors will tell you that the number of times they've read their books by the time they're published is enough to make them not want to see it again for a considerable amount of time. Saturation might be a comparable word for the feeling. Well, apparently the number of years that have passed since I read my novel provided just what I needed to truly enjoy it once again - ratifying the phrase I use quite often: I write what I want to read.
The Famous One is written like a fictional biography, telling the story of one Joey Parr. If any of my novels fit the tagline I've given myself: Raw Romantic Redemptive, it's this one.
Point being, "my" audience loved this story. Those who are not, did not. And so it goes.
I can write novels. I do write novels. And I'm not stopping writing them because those who are not my audience don't like them.
Father, apart from you, I can do nothing. Period. Thank you for giving me any of my abilities. Anything I do that's good and worthy of any praise is you working in me. All honor goes to you. And all thanks - even though it can never be enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.