I posted on Twitter in the wee, small hours, but it’s worth noting here, too…

Here’s a thing: A friend of mine – I’ll point out, he’s not a good friend – told me what he thought my problem was. This was not a surprise. People have been telling me what my problem is for some time. According to this particular guy, my problem was twofold.

1. I’m not Jeffrey Archer.

2. I’m not Danielle Steel.

Quite difficult to argue with him. He was right. I am entirely me. To be fair, I’ve had a lot of practise.

But he said this to me in such a dismissive manner, that it kind of shook my confidence.
I wish it wasn’t true, but it threw me for a good while.

I have no problem with accepting criticism. It’s part of the gig, I understand that. But standing, with a pint, and getting told that my problem… is me… was hard to take. And then, something happened.

I made peace with the idea that this chap, although a reader, is not meant to be mine. I got back to the laptop, kept on writing.

And in the past two weeks, I’ve been compared to Mary Higgins Clark and Phoebe Waller Bridge. I’m not Jeffrey Archer, but I’ll have that.

Finding your readers is like finding your tribe. The only thing that can kill the journey is stopping.