For any kind of get-together with friends or family where food is to be contributed, I almost always make deviled eggs. I do this because it's one of the very few things I can make and possibly the only thing I can make well. Everyone says my deviled eggs are great and I wouldn't necessarily believe it, except that I see them devoured in large quantities by large numbers of people.
So this year for Easter I again made deviled eggs. You probably saw the pictures sent around facebook of the deviled eggs that were made with the filling shaped smoothly and decorated with bits of olives and carrots to look like little chicks popping out of shells. They were cute and like lots of friends who commented on fb, I decided I would make my Easter deviled eggs to look like that.
What I forgot: I am not Martha Stewart. Or even remotely talented in the kitchen. Best described as cullinarily challenged. Something that looked so simple was not simple for me. Neither is making macaroni and cheese, which any six year old can cook. My eggs didn't look like chicks, cute or otherwise. They looked like deviled eggs made by someone who read the directions upside down from a cookbook in a foreign language.
So after a few failed experiments, I made my deviled eggs like I normally do and was briefly disappointed that they weren't unusual and cutesy. But they were still great and everyone loved them.
Often when I read other writers' work I wish I could use language or description well. Some writers make it look so easy. But when I try it, it isn't easy at all. (And I do recognize that things others struggle with are easy for me.)
Even without the talent for language and description that I admire in others, I know that my writing is basically good. Like my deviled eggs - while it doesn't hurt to try different things and it's imperative to always work at improving your skills - if what you can do is good, appreciate it for what it is and don't worry about what it isn't.