I am not a blogger

I am not a blogger.

There, I said it.

I came to this realization yesterday, after the funny (as in “weird,” not in “haha”) response I had to PopChassid’s marvelous list of 7 bloggers he thinks deserve more attention. As I read about all the fabulous bloggers (Several I had heard of, and a couple I had not…my favorite post by one of the unfamiliar ones was Ruchi Koval’s interview with her yetzer hara. Just so funny and true!), I felt more and more (embarrassing to admit) jealous.

Now, I’ve blogged here before about how important it is not to envy other writers. I’m a big believer in being farginen¬†those around me. But I sensed something unusual about the variety of jealousy I was experiencing. Continue reading

Did I write that book?

I just had yet another one of those heart-stopping moments where I saw a book title, then read the review of the book and thought:

OMG! I WROTE THAT BOOK!

I’m pretty disgusted with my reaction. I’m sure my idea isn’t so original that no one else could’ve had that same one. Yes, I had my idea before that book was published—but what if that author thought of it first? Or maybe she didn’t think of it first, but she executed it better?

-sniff-

I’m chalking this up as another exercise in, “I’m only responsible for my effort, not my success.” If I was meant to sell that manuscript (I did shop it around a bit), then I would have sold it.

The end. Now it’s time to suck it up.