My Secret Super Power

I have a confession to make.

For years, I feared my greatest weakness as a writer.

In fact, it was one of the biggest things holding me back from publishing.

But now that I've finally bitten the bullet and gone the independent route, reader feedback has been surprisingly consistent.

And I'm beginning to wonder if maybe...

Just maybe...

What I thought was my greatest weakness was actually my secret super power.

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When I was younger, I fell in love with Stuart Townsend's portrayal of Dorian Gray in *The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.*

The character fascinated me.

When I learned *Dorian Gray* was based on a novel, I couldn't wait to get my hands on a copy. I set aside an entire weekend, fully expecting to devour it.

Instead, I found myself confused.

The prose went completely over my head.

So I did what any optimistic reader would do.

I told myself I wasn't old enough yet.

I'd come back to it later.

And I did.

Several times.

Each time, I found myself overwhelmed.

The same thing happened with many of the books I was assigned in AP English and Shakespeare.

I would read the words, understand some of them, and still walk away feeling like I had somehow missed the point.

And over time, I started drawing a conclusion.

A terrible conclusion.

If I couldn't understand these great writers...

And I certainly couldn't write like them...

Maybe I wasn't very talented.

Maybe I wasn't smart enough.

Maybe I was a "dumb writer."

Even typing that now feels ridiculous.

But it's true.

For years, that little voice sat in the back of my mind whispering that real writers wrote differently than I did.

They were eloquent.

Sophisticated.

Literary.

Their prose was beautiful and layered with meaning.

Meanwhile, I just wanted to tell stories.

Stories about people and relationships.

Stories that made readers laugh, cry, swoon, cringe, or stay up far too late because they couldn't put the book down.

Because of that fear, it was surprisingly difficult to accept one of the most common compliments I've received about *Peckers: The Pact.*

I was thrilled with the 5-star review.

Truly.

But a small part of me still cringed.

Easy?

Wasn't "easy" the thing I was terrified of being?

My insecurity was getting the best of me.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized something important.

Oscar Wilde and I aren't trying to accomplish the same thing.

Neither is Shakespeare.

And that's okay.

Their goal wasn't my goal.

My goal isn't to impress readers with my vocabulary or make them wish they had a literature degree.

My goal is to make you fall in love with the characters.

To make you laugh and feel something.

To carry you away from the real world for a little while.

To hopefully make you miss the characters when the story ends.

So these days, when someone tells me *Peckers: The Pact* was an easy read, I'm trying to hear it differently.

Not as a criticism.

Not as a sign that I should have used bigger words or written more complicated sentences.

But as a reader telling me they got lost in the story.

That the characters felt real.

That the pages kept turning.

That for a few hours, they escaped into Jenny's world.

And honestly?

That's exactly what I was hoping for.

So if *Peckers: The Pact* was an easy read...

Thank goodness.

Because making something feel easy is a lot harder than it looks.