You know that feeling.
Other manuscripts get five-star reviews.
Other writers land the agent.
Other books hit the shelves in shiny, trade-published jackets.
Other people are living the dream — you’re just trying not to refresh your inbox again.
We don’t talk enough about how writers other themselves — how easy it is to believe success belongs to someone else, someone shinier, someone with a neater past or a more marketable plot or a better “hook.” Someone with connections, time, money, confidence — or all of the above.
We start thinking we’re the exception — and not in the good way.
We’re the one writer whose messy, magical manuscript won’t be understood. The one who will be overlooked. Rejected. Left out of the call-up email. Too late, too early, not quite enough.
And so we slip into the shadowy corner of the ballroom, watching the others dance.
You may need to repeat this next part to yourself more than once (I strongly encourage printing this, sticking it to your bathroom mirror and repeating it everyone morning until is sinks in.)
You are not an "other."
You are a writer.
And your manuscript deserves to be on the floor.
Each Time You ‘Other’ Yourself - There is a Real Cost
When you start assuming you're not the one success is meant for, you unconsciously start acting like it. You don’t enter the comp. You sit on your draft. You hesitate to ask for feedback. You tell yourself you’re not ready (but you were ready three drafts ago, weren’t you?).
This self-othering is quiet. It's polite. It dresses itself up as humility or realism or self-awareness — but it's often just fear wearing a borrowed coat.
Othering yourself keeps you safe.
But it also keeps you small.
You Are Not the Exception to the Rule of Success
It’s easy to forget that every author with a book deal was once sitting where you are now — wondering if they were good enough, if their story mattered, if they’d ever find a reader who truly got them.
They weren’t special. They were stubborn.
They kept going. They sent the pitch. They got feedback. They rewrote. They risked being seen.
Success doesn’t come for the “others.”
It comes for the writers who stay in the story — their own story — long enough to let it unfold.
Ask Yourself:
Are you quietly disqualifying yourself before you’ve even tried?
Are you assuming your manuscript isn’t “the one” before it’s ever been matched with the right reader?
Are you watching the publishing parade go by and forgetting that you could be part of it, too?
Now, the Better Question:
What small, clear step can you take today toward being the kind of writer who believes they belong?
That could mean:
Submitting your first six chapters to a reader who will give you honest, structured feedback.
Pitching to a competition instead of watching from the sidelines.
Writing the next chapter without editing the life out of the one before.
Telling someone: “I’m working on a book.”
Tiny rebellions against the idea that this is for someone else.
Because the moment you stop othering yourself, you begin authoring yourself. And that’s when things start to shift.
This isn’t just for others.
It’s for you.
And if no one’s told you this today, let me be the first:
You are absolutely worth reading.
Now — what step are you taking next?