No matter what age we are, it seems we never lack for well-wishers who understand just what our faults are, just what we’re doing wrong, and just what we need to do to set our lives aright. If by chance we should suffer no such lack, then our own consciences may tell us that we’re on the wrong path, that others like us have done better or achieved more, and we should follow their example. As writers, we may judge ourselves by which magazines choose to print our work, or whether the book we’ve spent so much time on has found a publisher. Ever and always, some well-traveled road beckons, the thickets of standards and convention narrow our view, and the woods rising beyond look dark and dangerous.
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