
Dearest writer,
This past week, I’ve had my nose to the grindstone, using every spare moment to finish my book. The draft was written, but it needed a ton of editing before I could send it off to Beta readers (a few trusted people who will let me know if anything doesn’t quite land) — and then to my paid editor.
Before I even started this edit, though, man, I was spun.
I knew there was a lot to fix. As you may already know, the first draft is just you telling yourself the story. The second draft is where you shape it into something that makes sense.
There was a lot of rewriting in that second draft. In fact, it’s safe to say that the second draft became a completely different story. Sure, the characters still ended up in the same place — but the path to get there was entirely new.
And that’s a good thing.
The second draft added more layers, more character development, and more reasons for my characters to fall for each other (and for readers to believe it). I deleted about 30,000 words — and added about 50,000 more.
I’m not only a writer of romance novels, I’m also a reader. And while I was deep in edits, I was also reading a newly released book by one of my favorite romance authors.
This book was witty and heartfelt and filled with so many brilliant lines.
There was one line — just one simple line about a worm — that was so touching, I had to stop and read it again and again.
And for a moment, I thought about throwing in the towel.
Why would I bother writing a book when this author had done it so much better than me?
What did I have to add to the conversation, when my book didn’t measure up?
Her story sparkled with witty sentences. Mine felt plain by comparison.
What if I was just fooling myself into thinking anyone would want to read my book?
Have you ever had thoughts like these while you were writing? I’m sure you have.
And you know what?
I bet that incredible author I admire has had them, too.
Comparison is such a natural human response — especially among creatives.
It doesn’t mean the critical voice is telling the truth. But it can derail you if you give those jealous or inferior thoughts more power than they deserve.
When you feel the sting of comparison, it’s important to reframe it — not as a stop sign, but as a signal.
The fact is: you noticed someone doing something well.
The lie is: because they did, you can’t.
The fact is: you admire something beautiful in your creative arena.
The lie is: there’s no room for your art, too.
The fact is: you are enjoying another artist’s work.
The lie is: no one will enjoy yours.
But what if you still think your work isn’t enough?
First, know this: you have a biased view of your own creation.
You’ve spent so much time inside it that it might feel mundane or basic. Familiarity has dulled the magic. That’s why outside opinions — beta readers, trusted friends, editors — are so vital.
When I send my book to Beta readers, I don’t just ask for critique. I ask them to tell me what is working, too.
I need to know where the story lands — because after all, I’m not just writing for myself. I’m writing for the readers who find pieces of themselves in my pages.
Second, there’s room for all types and levels of art.
You want proof?
I peeked at the reviews for that other author's book — the one I adored so much I almost quit writing. And you know what?
While many readers loved it, others didn’t.
Some called it a miss. Some were disappointed. Some even found it boring.
The same book that made me want to give up was not universally loved.
And that’s the truth for every book, every piece of art.
There will be readers who don’t love your work.
But there will be readers who do.
Those are the readers you are writing for.
Finally, there’s that old adage: “Comparison is the thief of joy.”
What if all the greats had stopped creating because someone else was doing it better?
We would have lost:
Charlotte Brontë, who published under a male pseudonym because women’s work wasn’t respected.
Emily Dickinson, who found her voice through poetry despite society's rejection of her gender, beliefs, and solitude.
Toni Morrison, who wrote powerful, painful stories that faced censorship — and still changed the world.
I would have stopped, too — books ago — when my self-esteem was at an all-time low.
And I would have missed out on writing my latest series.
And the book I just finished.
And the ones still waiting to be born.
When I finished that second edit, I read through the manuscript one more time.
And you know what I found?
The pacing was good.
The characters were believable.
And scattered throughout were a few gorgeous lines — lines that made me proud.
They weren’t about worms.
They were about my characters, in my voice.
And no one else — not even that author I admire — could have written them. Only I could.
The world deserves my book.
And it deserves yours, too.
So please, dear writer, keep going.
Admire the beauty you see in others’ work — but don’t let it dim the beauty in yours.
Until the next chapter,
Crissi
I don’t just write love letters, I also write love stories. Find them all here.
P.S. If you’re curious about my book, you can check it out here.
Currently:
📖 Reading: Great Big Beautiful Life, by Emily Henry (this is not the book I was talking about, but is super cute, because EMILY HENRY)
🎧 Listening to: A playlist based off Smashing Pumpkins that is giving me all the nostalgia vibes
✍️ Writing: NOTHING except long-winded journal and Substack entries
☕ Mood: Kind of not sure what to do with myself while I’m in standstill writing mode
Wow! Such inspirational words of wisdom and don’t doubt yourself. You are deserving of so much more and each writer has their own twist which is why I like reading your romance books!
I was told once that being, living, breathing, just like writing, is not a one and done arrival. It’s a practice. It’s ongoing. It’s about the -ing.
When I compare, I compare someone’s moment to my lifetime. I inexplicably take one thing from someone else and somehow make my whole life fail by comparison. It’s an awful habit. So I try to remember my -ing; adulting, and that it’s a practice. There’s always movement and daily rhythm -never ending. I practice not comparing and when I do compare, I try to be forgiving. Thanks for this letter today! I needed that.