I have v strong feelings about this message.
Here is my short answer: Don’t give up, you are so obviously awesome it is crazy, and please learn to begin now disregarding everyone who tells you otherwise.
If I were at my mom’s house, I could take a photo of my sixth grade yearbook. Everyone was asked what they wanted to be when they grew up. I was offended to be asked what I wanted to be. I knew what I was going to be.
I wrote: “I am going to be a writer and illustrator of popular fantasy novels.”
So, that’s not exactly what I’m doing, or not right now, but it’s something close.
I had a period after college where I was like, “Be more realistic, Tim. Get a job, you hippie.”
But the strange thing is: The older I get, the more I realize how much I knew who I was when I was a teenager better than I do now.
(Do I cringe at everything I’ve ever written before? Yes. Doesn’t matter if it’s when I was sixteen or twenty-six. But if you look back in ten years on what you write tonight and cringe, that should only further affirm that you are a writer.)
Keep writing the stuff you believe in, if only cuz I’d love to read it. That quiet part somewhere inside you that knows who you are? That part is correct.
Apologies for any over-enthusiasm here. I’m feeling dangerously full of life tonight and naive-hearted in the best way. Someone please send me a baby goat to cuddle with.