I've had a bit of a weird week. Reviews are a funny thing. They can build you up and knock you down. It doesn't do to be too thinly skinned about it. And to be totally honest I didn't think that I was. But that's the funny thing about life. It can just come along and slap you on the legs when you least expect it.
So, I got a new review. Lovely jubbly. The first part mentioned great writers including one of my personal favourites when reviewing one of my books. I felt very chuffed that my story was mentioned in such exalted company. And then the kicker, full of typos. I don't employ an editor at the mo (I can't afford one) but I have had it proofread by a few other people. One person who has worked as a proof reader and a retired English teacher / University lecturer.
The review had boosted my confidence and yet I doubted myself as a writer all of a sudden. An editor would no doubt help and at one stage I'll no doubt send my future books & probably present ones to an editor to sharpen them up. But I doubted all of a sudden that I could even spot typos. All the way down the rabbit hole. Am I Florence Foster Jenkins of indie book land? Absent mindedly writing a load of old cobblers and completely oblivious to it?
Then this morning I had a serendipitous email from another indie writer. Paraphrasing, they basically said, when you're starting out it's extremely likely that there's stuff you're going to do that you're not going to be great at. Take that monkey off your back and don't worry about failing because you will. It couldn't have come at a better time.
The review was a decent one and made constructive points that I'll definitely take on board and I've learned a bit about myself. That I need to not be too sensitive about things that may need tweaking but also that I'm learning and that the most important thing is to keep at it. And you know what? I will do.