'I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror.'

Let's talk about comparison and envy, ft. a detailed history of comparing myself to other writers and nearly going mad.

Hey, hi, hello, happy Thursday. We’re officially in summer as of yesterday! And today marks one year until T and I get married, which is fun to write.

Today I’m answering a question from a reader about comparison. Paid subscribers can submit questions that I answer column-style every so often, so if you want in on that…

Hi Laura. I’m not even comfortable calling myself a writer yet, but trying to get used to it! I’ve been working for years on what I hope will be a memoir, and my question for you is about comparison. I’ve never had a blog or shared any of my work publicly (I have a private Instagram account but never post there, barely do Facebook, etc.). I tell myself this is because I’m a private person, and that’s true, but I know it’s more because I compare myself to other writers and authors who have published books, big followings, and seem to be so comfortable sharing themselves publicly, and I think, what’s the point? It freezes me. I know everyone starts somewhere, but I can’t get past the idea that I’ll always be too far behind or too scared. This of course leads to the bigger question of me actually publishing my book, which I know is far down the line, but how am I going to be able to do that if I can’t even share a little bit of my writing on social media? Comparison has always been a thing for me, and I’m wondering if you have any advice, if it’s something you deal with professionally or personally, and if so, how you overcome it and stay focused. Thank you! -K

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Hi K - I want to start by talking about the subject line of this email. Maybe you recognize it; it’s from the song ‘Anti-Hero,’ on Taylor Swift’s most recent album, Midnights. If you don’t know it or don’t like TS, stay with me, it doesn’t matter.

An anti-hero is a central character in a story who lacks the traditional qualities of a hero, like bravery or perfect morality. They may do heroic things, but their motivations are usually off in some way, like Jay Gatsby in The Great Gatsby or Walter White in Breaking Bad. They’re imperfect and complicated, often defined by their own self-interest, and they’re compelling to us because they more closely resemble actual humans than heroes do.

Taylor has said ‘Anti-Hero’ is one of the most intimate songs she’s ever written because it’s about her deepest insecurities. My interpretation assumes she stretched the literal meaning of anti-hero to make the song work (I think she’s actually conflating villain and anti-hero), but I don’t blame her because DAMN IS IT CATCHY.

I see it like this: she’s the “anti-hero,” or a part of her is, and that part is complicated and complex and sometimes motivated by the wrong things: fame, winning, money, being thin, and being seen as altruistic (these are all themes in the song). She has a hard time separating her true, well-intentioned, and wiser self from this anti-hero self, and so does the public—so much so that she’s not sure which part of her is more real. The anti-hero hates her imperfection, haunts her by continually reminding her of her mistakes, and makes sure she stays down (when my depression works the graveyard shift all of the people / I’ve ghosted stand there in the room). It's like she’s made a character out of the part of her that’s internalized the negative messages she’s received: she’s not thin enough, talented enough, original enough, mature enough; she’s too young, dates too much, writes about her exes too much, is too popular and too successful. The song is like a conversation with this voice made into a character—the anti-hero—where she’s acknowledging its existence and how annoying and exhausting it is to live with. (It also seems like she’s giving a nod to her haters, letting them know in a fuck off way that she gets it; she’s the problem, but like, aren’t y’all tired of rooting for my demise?)

This inner critic voice¹ is so incessant in many of us that we identify with it completely—as if it is us—so the first step for anyone is realizing it’s just a freaking voice: an annoying, mean, persistent, exhausting voice. It isn’t The Truth. It isn’t God. It’s just a part of you (I think Anne Lamott calls it the Itty Bitty Shitty Committee, which is the best), and there are many other parts you can call upon and tune into.

With that context in mind, the line I used for this email: I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror, is what I want us to focus on next. We tend to think the point of looking in the mirror will be to face the monster of who we are down, hold it accountable for all its mistakes and ugliness, and essentially beat the shit out of it until it changes. But that’s not how real change works, not ever, and this is one of the big things sobriety taught me: we cannot hate ourselves into changing. We have to love ourselves there instead, or, because love is sometimes too tall an order, we have to befriend ourselves there. We have to learn to be on our own side relentlessly, and I think if we frame it that way, it makes looking into the mirror a much more appealing enterprise. Like, hey, I’m just going to look at you and try to have some empathy for all the pain you’re in and not make it worse by calling you names or telling you you shouldn’t even feel this way in the first place, k?

Comparison to others is the easiest way to arm our inner critic, especially now that we carry around little computers in our pockets that offer a 24x7x365 window into billions of other people’s lives. The opportunity to compare is so infinite, so endless, and it happens even when we’re looking for something mundane and innocent, like a recipe or a laugh. Social media can be good for some things, but it’s terrible—absolutely awful, awful, awful—for those of us who are prone to compare. And, of course, as writers, it’s not only social media that provides rankings and metrics and statistics to publicly measure our success; there are Amazon reviews and stars, Goodreads reviews and stars, shelf placement, blurbs, endorsements from other authors, podcast appearances, and more.

You asked if I deal with this personally or professionally and how I overcome it and stay focused if so. The short answer is: ha, yes, of course I’ve dealt with it. I dealt with it long before I officially started calling myself a writer, and I still deal with it today—even after publishing two relatively successful books. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t deal with it (except, I imagine, Mary Oliver, though I never got to confirm this with her). Still, I know it can be hard to believe people when they say they feel it too, so I thought I’d give you a brief history of my comparison ~journey~ with specific examples. (Note: I’m lumping comparison, competition, jealousy, and envy together, even though they’re distinct in ways because they all create the same icky-sticky-panicked-frozen-despairing-graspy-desperate feeling inside us.)

A brief history of comparison (mine)