The Comparison Trap

My Writing Journey Part 26

I did something unwise recently. I counted another author's books.

Thirty-two. She started publishing around the same time I did. I have eight.

You'd think after writing romance—after spending years crafting stories about people finding their own path to love—I'd know better than to measure my journey against someone else's. But there I was.

Here's the thing, though. The same truth I write into every book applies to this too: there is no universal timeline for a love story worth having.

Think about it. We'd never tell a heroine she’s failing at romance because she didn't meet her person by chapter three. We'd never suggest the couple who took years to find each other have a lesser love than the pair who fell fast. The magic isn't in the speed—it's in what unfolds along the way.

So why do I refuse myself that same grace?

That author with thirty-two books? I don't know her health, her family situation, her mental load, or whether she has a day job that devours her best hours. I don't know if she's sacrificed things I wouldn't—or couldn't. I only see the book count. The highlight reel. A glimpse of the struggle, but never the whole cost.

Meanwhile, I know my story intimately. Every detour. Every roadblock that felt insurmountable. Every season I had to step back. And every time I sat down anyway and wrote the next scene.

Eight books exist in the world because I wrote them. Eight love stories that might be sitting on someone's bedside table right now, offering an escape or a reason to believe in happy endings. That's not nothing. That's actually quite a lot.

My writing journey is its own kind of love story—slow-burn, maybe, with plenty of obstacles. But slow-burn romances are some of the best ones, aren't they?

So instead of counting someone else's books. I will close the tab. And remember: the only pace that matters, is the one that lets me keep going.