Photo taken by said friend just after I sold my last copy of *Ghost Tamer*.

“Who are you comparing yourself to?”

I was standing in a hallway of the Embassy Suites in Franklin, Tennessee last weekend, gripping a panel schedule, trying to decide which panel to attend after my next book signing when a friend I was walking with posed that question. I had been considering a panel on Gaining Confidence as a Writer and she wondered why I thought I needed that. “I feel like I’m faking it,” I said. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

She stopped in the middle of the hallway and pressed me a bit about why I felt that way. Then finally asked, “Are you comparing yourself to people who have been doing this for years and years or are you comparing yourself to people who are in the same spot you are? Because you’re killing it.”

I didn’t end up making it to any panels after my signing. I got caught up talking to a fascinating lady about appearing on her podcast later and didn’t want to walk into someone’s panel fifteen minutes late. Instead I refilled my water bottle and sat on a bench and thought about where I was.

I was at the Killer Nashville writers conference. Two years ago, I had been to the same conference for the first time. At the time, I was in the middle of writing the manuscript that would become Ghost Tamer. At the time, it didn’t have a title. Hell, I didn’t even know how it was going to end, but I was having a blast writing it. The following year, I had a contract. This year, I was on panels, I even had a solo presentation, and I had early copies of my book to sign. And I sold all twenty of them.

I really, truly enjoyed teaching Writing Fight Scenes. Some great questions from the attendees!

When you look at it like that, I’m doing alright.

It’s easy to look at all of the things I don’t have. I wasn’t accepted into this or that book festival, I don’t have another book coming out exactly a year after Ghost Tamer, the two books I’m on submission with aren’t getting picked up, Publishers Weekly declined to review, I could go on.

Last night I was scrolling back through my Instagram feed—I’m sure for some productive reason—and found a video I had taken almost exactly a year ago. In fact, a year ago today, Thursday, as I write this. In the video I was walking along my usual running trail, the backing audio said something about not being where you thought you should be and feeling like you should be somewhere else. I had written about wishing I was back to doing six mile easy runs but that I was trying to take it one day at a time.

I realized as I watched that video, that I was scheduled to do a six mile easy run exactly one year to the day from that posting.

It has taken me a lot of mental work to become patient with where my body is right now. I don’t want to take that away from myself. But I will admit to comparing times with my pre-injury self. I admit to looking at those times and wondering if I’ll manage to get back there or even beat them. I have frequently allowed myself to appreciate the fact that I’m running again, and that even though there are physical issues I’m still working on, I have had entire long runs completely pain free. But seeing that video hit different.

It’s difficult to see the work you’ve put in when you’re still putting in work.

And you should always continue to grow and improve! So there will always be work to be done. And when you’re working at something you love, it’s a gift and a joy, but the struggles can sometimes become even more personal and painful. You may feel that you’re never getting anywhere because you forget about the mountain you’ve just conquered as soon as you see the next one. And I am in no way saying not to continue to climb most of them.

But maybe turn around first and take in the view from the peak you’ve just reached.

Can you see how far you've come?