Saying “writers are competitive,” especially at a young age, is to say that artist are competitive.

Or simply, I think: Youngster are competitive.

Youth is frequently synonymous with aspiration. But age and time often bring success, and the confidence that follows.

I mean, of course, I compare website Alexa rankings and domain authority with every other aspiring blogger I know…

But I am still a child at this.

I should restate one obvious point: young writers are competitive with one another. I was competitive in turn with Grover Lewis, Bill Brammer, and Ken Kesey. Norman Mailer’s recently published letters demonstrate what had long been known: that he and Styron and James Jones were competitive with one another. This is about as surprising as that Picasso was jealous of Matisse, and vice versa. And the younger the writers the more intense the rivalry will be.

-Larry McMurtry, Literary Life

Of course, there is not a clear path to authorship – for any of us.

And I think, they way “authorship” is being used here, we could include in it: Getting paid to write, having a successful blog, or being a full-time writer.

I think the thing to note is that McMurtry had written and published five books before he felt like he was a writer!

I wonder how many blog posts I will have to publish before I feel like a blogger.

And I’m no Larry McMurtry…

Understand: Your goals will take you longer than you think they will.

While I’m at it, I should emphasize that my path to authorship was a long, stutter-step affair. Nothing about it was predetermined—I had no vision on the Damascus road. I hoped to be a writer, but it was not until I had published my fifth book, All My Friends Are Going to Be Strangers, that I became convinced that I was a writer and would remain one. The year before that book came out I taught my last class at Rice, where I was awarded a tenure I never really used. Marcia Carter and I had just opened our rare bookshop in Washington, D.C., and the academic life dropped behind me, forever as it turned out.

-Larry McMurtry, Literary Life