How To Be Happy

I found out the other day that Big Name Author is reading my book. Talk about instant sweat stains under my armpits. What if Big Name doesn't like A Heart Deceived, thinks it's a steaming pile of literary manure, and kicks it to the curb like a sorry-faced rummy of an ex-boyfriend?

Game over. Shut off the lights. Career ended.

Okay, so that's a little dramatic, but that's what goes on inside a writerly head. This isn't just about writers, though. Even the monkey cage mucker at the zoo wonders what the giraffe droppings fella thinks of him. It's human nature, this comparison thing.

And it's really stupid.

God didn't make you the giraffe pooper scooper or the Big Name Author or whoever else it is that you think is higher up on the food chain. The grass might be greener over there in So-and-So's life, but if you look closely, you'll see just as much Creeping Charlie as you've got in your own lawn.

"But let each one test his own work, and then his reason to boast 

will be in himself alone and not in his neighbor."

Galations 6:4

Take that to heart and you will be a happy camper...unless, of course, sleeping bags make you claustrophobic and you hate waking up with your face mashed against the damp nylon side of the tent.

But that's a whole other blog post.