Great stories fill my life. Unforgettable tales live in my memory, flow through my veins, and imbed themselves in my DNA. A tiny seed ignites a bright idea. I can write a book, a voice whispers, and my journey begins. Teachers recommend reading everything in our chosen genre and developing a daily writing habit. I scribble, read, edit, and compare my product to best-sellers, and deem my efforts lacking. A niggling doubt blossoms into abject fear of never being “good enough.”
My reactions vary. I could give up, or vow to work harder, and descend into workaholic over-achiever mode. I obsess with unproductive comparisons, or rationalize, delay, procrastinate, and otherwise avoid working on my dream.
Those traps reveal a logic flaw. I haven’t discovered a definition or consensus of an exemplary narrative or the criteria for “good enough.” The search for a sure-fire story formula leads to subjective evaluations. Readers have personal preferences, some devour romance, while others…
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