Melissa Grant Writes

Who the F**k Put Me in Charge?*

_{*Yes, I know I curse like a sailor. I’m NOT working on it.}

This thought has been a recurring pattern throughout my adult life.

I aspired to be more in the jobs I had, got there and then felt completely incompetent.

The first time it happened was when I became manager of a large everything-but-the-kitchen-sink store back in my twenties. You know the kind: aisle one has Hallmark cards, aisle 10 has sewing supplies and aisle 25 has fishing gear. There was a pharmacy, photo counter and a post office substation in the back.

Suddenly, my 27-year-old aimless butt was in charge of making sure half that store remained full (but not too full), and there were employees to staff it. This all while drinking copious amounts of tequila in bars with my equally aimless roommate.

Sometimes the completely out-of-proportion candy order arrived at an understaffed store with a hungover me trying desperately to hide the extra 5 boxes of Snickers I’d ordered so I wouldn’t get fired.

Who the F**k Put Me in Charge?

Next was a high-end Home Décor store where I started my oversized Christmas ornament collection and found that accounting is not within my skill set.

I mean, so far out of my skill set that sometimes I wondered if I could be put in jail for messing up the bookkeeping so badly.

Who the F**k Put Me in Charge?

Then came dog training. I went to school, studied hard and felt good about doing the basics. After some encouragement from a fellow trainer friend, I decided to take on some more difficult cases and scheduled an appointment with a friend’s ‘slightly’ aggressive deaf blue heeler.

Choker.

When I got there, he was running alongside my car, biting my tires.

Slightly?

The friend leashed him; I got out, and he bit me.

Twice.

Who the F**k Put Me in Charge?

As you know, next came Living Snoqualmie, where I suddenly became a ‘journalist.’

I wonder daily when someone will comment on the website or one of my many social media channels…

Who the F**k put you in charge?

Fair comment.

Which brings us to the present, and I’m still thinking…

Who the F**k put me in charge?

So my pattern is to think, “Okay, I can do this.”

Then I get good enough that other people start treating me like I know what I’m doing.

THEN I learn enough to discover an entire basement full of things I didn’t know existed.

This is where I am with writing a middle-grade book right now.

I finished the book and felt fantastic because I did the impossible. Then people read it and liked it. I got encouraging feedback. I placed in writing contests and got other external validation. For a while, all of that reinforced the idea that maybe I really can do this.

Then I started learning more.

I read more books in my category. I learned submission rules. I got editorial feedback. I started seeing all the things experienced writers are paying attention to that I didn’t even know existed when I started.

The end result for me is that, instead of feeling more qualified because I know more, I somehow feel less qualified because now I can see how much I don’t know.

It’s particularly strong now while I’m reading my comps. I’m comparing a manuscript I’ve stared at through drafts, edits, comments, cuts, query letters, synopses, contests, and formatting hell to a finished book that has already survived agents, editors, copy editors, proofreaders, designers, and publication.

Of course, theirs look more legitimate. They arrived wearing pants.

Mine is naked, shivering in a towel.

Who the F**k Put Me in Charge?

Apparently, me.