You will never get anywhere comparing yourself to others.
It seems useful, at first — they represent a goal you can achieve, and that might work if other writers were a bullseye you could hit, or a percentage you could nail. They’re not. Their work is always outside yours. Their work will always be different, and it will always feel stronger than your own. Someone will always be doing better. Sometimes by millimeters, sometimes by miles. Getting published doesn’t fix that. Publishing ten books doesn’t fix it. Awards don’t fix it. They might pad you a little. They might buffer you — a bulwark against the buffeting winds of wild imperfection. But you will always find your way back to that pit. You will always look in the broken mirror of foul water and see a version of you that fails in comparison to others.
Stand against this feeling.
Remind yourself that you are you and they aren’t.
Be clear with your own traitorous mind: they feel it, too. We all feel it.
— There’s This Thing That Happens Sometimes… « terribleminds: chuck wendig
"Recently, I was doing an extremely cool thing and taking myself to see What If, the Daniel Radcliffe rom com, and thinking the deep thoughts I think when I’m alone, namely, “why can’t I have a meet-cute? I’m a nice enough looking lady in a big city and I rarely meet anyone out in the world.” I was standing on an escalator somewhere in midtown Mindy Kaling-ing in my own mind, and when I looked up an accidentally made eye contact with an attractive human male on the opposite escalator. And in response to our locked eyes, my face went into full glower. This is the learned behavior of a decade in New York, and I’m not super proud or pleased with it, but then two things happened: the cute bro looked away (because I was glaring at him, like a cool, friendly girl), and an older, more disheveled man, said, “Smile, baby! Your tits are happy!"
— Female New York Post Writer Feels Differently Than Other Women