My deepest author confession? I haven't checked my book sales numbers in ten days.

Or explained in a way everyone can understand: I haven't checked Facebook for likes.

Since a week ago Tuesday.

Ah, now I got your attention.

Hey, listen, as a fellow member of Social Media Beast Nation. I understand the compulsion of checking. And checking. And checking. 'Cause it feels good to ride high on that virtual wave of likes. And follows.

And book sales.

Only problem? We always want more.

So instead of patting ourselves on the back and saying, fantastic job! Or damn girl, good for you patiently building this up slow and steady like, our brains are on the hunt for additional instant gratification. And when that doesn't come soon enough, like twelve seconds ago, we start focusing on all the things we don't have: Like why nobody liked that photo. Or why only ten retweets. Or why hasn't anyone bought my book.

In the last 8 hours?

I know you feel me.

And I'm not even saying that the numbers aren't valuable. Clearly, they work as a hard indicator of sales. They show you've got a good product on your hands, and indirectly, because people continue to purchase said product, that you're a relatively good writer. All true. But don't you think you should know this already anyway, especially if you've gotten this far in the process?

Trust. I'm not anti-sales. Indeed, I'd love to sell so many books I could purchase the New York Times Best Seller List. But if I haven't sold a bazillion books in the last ten minutes, will that alter my original marketing plan? Will I stop working any harder to get there? Does it mean that I'm lazy? Someone who hasn't accomplished anything?

Like, ever in life?

Hell no. So why even give yourself the opportunity to go there?

Honestly, I didn't become a writer for the money. I became one because it made me happy. Because I can't imagine doing anything else. Because I want to affect change with my words. To encourage people. To make them think. To make them understand that they are not alone.

And truth is, I'm already doing that.

You're here right now, aren't you?

So kiss off metrics. From here on out, we're gonna be monthly friends. Henceforth (best writer word ever), I'm committed to measuring my worth, in the kind of life that I lead every day. How I treat people. And the amount of books sold between 10am and 3pm on a Wednesday don't fit anywhere in that equation.

I'm not an expert at fixing brakes or extracting wisdom teeth. I don't know how to till the fields, code a website or land a plane You probably wouldn't want me to defend you in a court of law. (However, if you needed a kick-ass letter of support, then I'm your girl.)

I do however know how to write. Writing is my profession. I am a professional writer.

Capisce?

And, like the aforementioned occupations, my career is one that's required quite a bit of training, both formally and on-the-job, to get me to my present level. So what exactly is it, about my chosen livelihood, that not only makes folks think that they can do my job, but that they can do it better than me?

Part of the problem is that technically, everyone can write. There's no great mystery in taking pen to paper or fingers to keyboard. There's no licensing process, no test to take, no governing board to fine you if you aren't doing your job properly. And often with this, comes a complete lack of respect for what we, as writers do.

Oh, not from other writers. Writers love writers. They appreciate the effort it takes to compose a thought. To get out a message. To obsess, over for just the exact word, phrase or sentence needed to bring the whole piece together.

Writers know that writing takes discipline. And concentration. Writing takes intelligence. And commitment. Writing takes research. And patience. Writing takes the ability to be analytical. And to be critical. Writing takes self-editing. And the courage to toss it all in the trash and start again. Writing takes the ability to steel yourself from your critics, especially the ones without any credentials.

The act of stringing words together, does not a writer make. Good writing needs to have meaning. A writer, above all, is an expert communicator, responsible for relaying information, breaking down complex topics into easy to understand tidbits or creating a mood, all while motivating you to keep on reading. The only tools at our disposal? Words.

Good writing should look easy.

A good writer will tell you that it never is.