When I get bummed out and convinced I’m not *actually* a writer, I think about Rincewind.
Rincewind, in case you don’t know, is a character from Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series. There’s only two things you really need to know about Rincewind:
1)He’s a wizard
2)He’s the worst fucking wizard on the face of the Disk
It’s true. It’s pointed out multiple times, by both Rincewind and others, that he is the sorriest excuse of a wizard to exist. He failed out of the Unseen University (a much more kid-friendly Hogwarts); he can’t remember any spells; he’s altogether awful at what he is.
And yet, he’s still a wizard.
Yes, he sucks at it. Yeah, literally anyone could do it better than him. Yeah, he’s been told that by all accounts, he shouldn’t be a wizard at all.
But he’s still a wizard. He gets very defensive about it, too. He will defend the fact that he is a wizard, however terrible, to the grave (and probably back, too, because Death’s daughter will scare you right back to life). And I think that is just amazing. He knows exactly what he is – he *knows* he’s a wizard.
When I look at my writing and I see an impassable tar pit of impossible mistakes, of contrived, boring plots, or I look at another’s work and see how far away I am from them and wonder if I have the resolve to try and catch up (and most likely fail), I think about Rincewind. I think about knowing what you are, and fighting tooth and nail for it, even when you suck at it.
So get on your Wizzard hat and keep doing the thing you love, because, let’s face it, you’d only put yourself through this kind of hell for something you love.