Recently, I found out that the husband of one of my co-workers is getting published in a few weeks. I also learned yesterday that a guy I’ve known for several years has just received his first copies of his book. I didn’t even know he wrote!
So today is the day to beat the jealousy monster with a stick. A big stick. And forget about speaking softly, jealousy needs to get shouted down and insulted until it slinks back out the side door it snuck in through. Other people getting published does not make it less likely that I will get published. The pie chart of readers doesn’t get divided up among all the authors; the pie chart of readers is infinitely large. I have no reason to be jealous of these other guys. Especially since one of them wrote a western and one wrote a biography, while I can’t get much out of my fingers that isn’t SF.
Jealousy eats at you from the inside out, like a diseased tree. I wanted to take that metaphor further, but I’d end up way out in the blackberries somewhere, and diseased blackberry trees just wouldn’t work.